“Four nights in a row, you working on becoming a nightly thing Mike?” Eric asked me as I slid into my seat.
“Jen wanted to meet up again, and for some unknown reason, she likes this place.”
“Women, they’re attracted to my pretty face,” he responded.
“That would explain why I see so many in here tonight,” I said.
“Hey, Tina is here every night just to see me, isn’t that right Tina?” he asked. Tina, a sour faced older woman who was a permanent fixture in the bar, gave him the finger. “She loves me.”
“As usual, I’m minded that love is something only idiots pursue.” Also as usual, my timing was shit.
“Still on the ‘love is for fools and children’ kick eh?” Jen said as she sat down next to me and scowled, “I’d have thought you might have grown out of that.”
“Unless I’m right and it really is for children, in which case I’d have to regress to get away from that stance,” I said and sipped my beer. I hadn’t wanted to start the evening off with this sort of conversation, though I knew well I couldn’t avoid this sort of talk forever.
“And if you are wrong?” she asked, freighting the words with heavy import.
“Oh wait! I know this one,” Eric said as he set Jen’s drink down in front of her, “Hell freezes over, am I right?” He winked at me. The man had just earned every dime I’d ever tipped and then some.
“Well, bar rules state that arguing with the bartender is not allowed, and since I haven’t heard of a ski resort down below yet, I guess the question is settled.”
“You don’t even believe in a hell,” Jen objected.
“Well that only solidifies my position,” I stated and gestured at Eric to pour one for himself. “To a pretty face in the bar once again,” I toasted, gesturing at Jen. Flattery is better than conflict for placating a woman if done right. Jen flushed slightly and ducked her head a bit while Eric and I drank.
“You two think you’re pretty clever.”
“I’m a fan of Descartes myself,” quipped Eric with a little wave as he excused himself. I confess, I laughed.
Distracted and mollified for the moment, Jen sipped her drink and asked, “So what have you been up to since I saw you last?”
I strained a muscle to keep myself from rolling my eyes, “Mostly the same old shit, working in the studio, taking internet orders.”
“Only mostly?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I seem to have picked up a student, or perhaps an apprentice, I’m not really sure.”
Jen looked puzzled, “Since when are you into teaching?” she asked, “Last I knew your teaching style consisted of berating people and declaring them incompetent fools.”
“Hell, I don’t even know how it happened, wounded pride I think, but she wandered into my shop and expressed an interest in the productio...”
“She?” interrupted Jen, “Who is ‘she’?”
“Again, I don’t really know, aside from her name and that she can kick my ass in pool, and she’s far crazier than your average woman,” I said. The number of emotions that crawled across Jen’s face told me I could have picked better words.
“Mike, I don’t even know how to untangle the crap you just said. Start from the beginning.”
I sighed, “Ok, quick and simple, Ron and I were playing pool the other night, got challenged to doubles by a couple women, got our asses handed to us, the next day, one of them showed up in my studio, I showed her the working side, she pretty much sneered at it, so I gave her a sort of working lesson and it sort of snowballed from there. Now she shows up and tinkers around in the studio. It’s fucking bizarre.”
“She must be some sort of special woman to coax patient instruction out of the Mighty Mike,” she snapped.
“Actually, she pretty much irritates the hell out of me, and that’s how it all started. Since then, I’ve been my usual asshole self, she glares at me and then does whatever I told her anyway. I never really wanted a student, nor an apprentice, but if I have to have one, she seems to be able to handle it.”
“Do you? Have to have one that is,” she asked.
“Have to? Probably not, but the demand for the stupid little shit I sell has jumped in the last six months and if it keeps up, I will need someone to help to keep up or...” I trailed off as I ran scenarios in my head.
“Or what?” demanded Jen.
“Or I go full time making stupid whirligigs, with no time for what I want to do, or I let the orders pile up and maybe business suffers, or I start working ten hour days, seven days a week, or... I don’t know, things are kind of changing and I’m not entirely sure how to handle it. I’ve been a starving artist for so long that I don’t think I quite know how to handle the idea of actual success, or that I even want it in the form it may come. World famous whirligig maker? I could probably market my shit to some catalog company, set up a mass production facility and make a decent living, but I don’t know anything about that sort of work, and I’m not sure I wouldn’t hate it.” I sipped my beer, “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to unload on you, I’m just a bit unsure right now, and I know you are familiar with my usual reaction to that.”
Jen wrapped her arm around me and put her head on my shoulder, “I’m here for you Mike, you can unload if you need to and I’ll offer whatever support I can, and I hope you know that.”
“I’m glad to hear that, and I like knowing that I’ve got you and Ron around to support me, but I’ve still got to do the decision making myself.”
“We all have to make our own decisions Mike,” she said.
“To be more correct, we all make our own decisions, one way or another, but it’s whatever. I don’t want to talk about my problems any more tonight, new subject, let’s talk about you,” I said. “You found a job? A place to live?”
“To borrow your style of answering, yes and yes,” she responded. “I interviewed this morning with the paper and I’ll be covering community events and local politics, pretty much the same thing I was doing in Florida, only with slightly better pay, which is good because the place I found is slightly more expensive than the one I had back there in the swampland.”
“So where is the new place?” I asked.
“It’s over on the east side, Riverview apartments, they’re decent sized and the place I got is a two bedroom so I’ll have an office to work in. The big downside is that I won’t be in walking distance from here anymore.”
“That is a tragedy if I ever heard one,” Eric said, “Another round kids?” he asked.”
I nodded and he poured.
“This will have to be my last round tonight,” Jen said, “I start tomorrow morning at the new job, and I’m sure a hangover won’t be impressive to the new bosses.”
“That’s understandable,” I said, “and it is a crying shame you won’t be so close to here anymore.”
“Well, you’ll just have to walk me home tonight, because after this weekend, you won’t get to anymore.”
“You’re moving this weekend?” I asked.
“I’m headed back to Florida to see things packed up and sent this way, and when I get back I will be in the new place. I’ve got an air mattress and enough clothes to get by for now.”
“Well if you need any help, or anything, call me, I’ll do anything I can.”
We finished our drinks mostly in silence, the both of us weighing the import of the words we’d spoken. When Jen set her glass down a last time she smiled at me.
“An escort home?” she asked.
“Of course my dear,” I said and paid the tab.

The night was warmer than our last walk home and we walked closer and slower with our arms linked. I smelled her hair and fought with nostalgia. The rose colored lenses of the past are bedeviling and I tried to remind myself of that. At her door, the kiss, like the walk, was slower and longer. I bade her goodnight and headed back towards the bar. Halfway there I stopped under a streetlight and leaned against it. Idly kicking a heel against the pole and listening to the dull ring of it I wondered why stupid ‘truisms’ seemed to apply to my life so often.