I looked up again, recognition slowly dawning. The face, it was older; the mouth drooped in the corners which it hadn’t used to. The glasses looked about the same as they had fifteen years ago, though the prescription now made the eyes look tiny and small. I waited a moment for the name to return to me while my face played with the idea of a smile, never really committing.
I felt a foreshadowing pang before I really remembered everything. She was standing with her arms crossed. I wasn’t sure if she was frowning or if her face just rested like that now. We stared.
“Yes,” I prompted.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Lifting my glass, I said, “Working up the nerve for a speech I’m giving on the benefits of temperance.”
Uninvited, she sat down at my table.
“I mean,” her voice was hushed in the way only the deaf consider hushed, “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” I said, “I come here every week.”
She threw up her hands in a grandiose display of frustration. I, in turn, sipped my drink.
“Put that thing down,” she commanded.
Pulling the glass from my lips, I said, “Actually, I prefer to sip. Drink lasts longer that way. Get to enjoy it more.”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “I don’t have time for this. Are you done with whatever this is?”
Glancing at my watch, I say, “No. Not even remotely.”
“We haven’t lost track of you.”
“Nice knowing someone cares.”
“We have a job for you.”
“I think you’re looking for someone else.”
“Lora is in trouble.”
I watch her face as a coy smile fights with her sagging cheeks. Setting my glass down, I smile back at her.
“She better be careful then.” The old bat’s brows furrow. Before she speaks, I continue, “I left. She could have left too. I’m not going to play your little games. She chose to live under your thumb, and I chose to give you the finger. I’m not crawling back under your yoke because she preferred your stables to freedom.” Taking a breath, I add, “Now get out, or stay; either way, don’t push me. You and I still share the same high moral standards, and even with the extra pounds, I can still haul your fat carcass and dump it in some godforsaken hole nobody will ever find.”
I felt a small thrill watching her fume. It was the one thing I found I had missed since leaving, the one thing I missed besides Lora.
There was a tune playing overhead, and I heard a boyish voice belt, “I am not the ghost that you want of me.” He went into the chorus, and I went into the bar.
Tale Told 