by Geoff Gouveia

The crowd at the bar orbited round the bartender, a conductor in front of a pulsing full orchestra. Those holding drinks edged to the perimeter after looking to the conductor, sucking back when the gravitational pull of the alcohol emptied. Pairs spiraled off together though from afar the choir became one, swaying and contracting, rising and expanding in unison.

Away from the bar, on the quieting outskirts of it, the tables sprawled against the wall. Booths for duet couples talking, singing close together with small lit lamps above their personal recording studios. Further off from the crowd, a figure sat silent in the dark. The light above his booth was not on but an iPhone painted his chin light gray blue. A ghost storyteller in the dark, the electric light halted against hard cut edges of a jaw. The light faded as it reached the top of his head, contrasting him against the wall in the faintest of muted grays.

George noticed the blue-lit jaw first. A square jaw that reminded him of someone he knew in the past, a familiar jaw he made fun of in college. The jaw in his mind returned fire against the mole on the top of George’s head because everyone had something. The memory back in college had a jaw that sat perpendicular to the long cigarettes it smoked straight in the middle of flat lips.

Was that him? George squinted through the dim light.

The man was still, very still, against the noise of the crowd. He sat with indifference to the activity, looking up only when the phone light dimmed. His thumbs scrolled against the empty glass phone, the quiet activity alone against a rising musical scene.

Back in the choir mass, a woman’s blonde hair bobbed away from the bar, a refilled mojito in tow. Alone, holding his rum and coke in hand, George pressed the drink to his face in combat against the body heat of the exaggerated attendance. When he sipped the drink through the tiny red straw the rum coated his tongue like velvet before the sweet syrup of Coke refreshed his palette. When the woman approached him with swirling mint leaves in her clear cylinder, he kissed her on the cheek and then yelled into her ear.

“Where are they?”
He dipped backwards and let her return the volume.
“I thought they were over to the left.” Mint escaped her drink into his nose.
“I haven’t seen them in a bit, Katie. We should make our rounds before we head out.”
“Head out? We’re celebrating!”
“I know, I know. But I’m tired. Besides, there’s only so much of an engagement you can celebrate.”
“Oh, come on. Just a little longer.”
“Fine, fine. While you were getting the drink, did you see him?”
“Who?”
“Jaw-remy.”

The swirling mint leaves stopped and the smile from her face flattened. The ice chilled through her hand and into her voice.

“Really? How did he find out? Why would he come here?”
“Don’t know.”
“Where did you see him?”
He spun her delicate shoulders round and leaned to the right of her neck. Her skin smelled, like it always did, of vanilla.
“Over there, in the corner...well he was there. Or maybe it was someone else?”
“I hope it wasn’t that coward Jeremy. What’s his problem?”

His wife stirred her cocktail, the ice clinking below, well below, the music of the crowd. George felt the subtle sound inside his chest, the source coming near the metronome that regulated their relationship.

“No I can’t be sure. He was sitting over there and now it’s empty. Where’s Ray and Alexis? I hope Alexis didn’t see him.” Even when he spoke about the new couple, he couldn’t get his mind off his wife’s vanilla neck. He smiled at her though she frowned, distraught over the situation. In his mind, the matter with Jeremy and Alexis had finished. What had happened, had happened. He’d much rather dwell on taking a small bite out of the sweetness Katie’s neck emitted.

“She’s talking over there, near the bar.”
George shifted his eyes towards the direction of Katie’s finger, stopping when he recognized the bone-straight brunette hair. Her slender neck held the hair above prominent collarbones before sliding into a slim shoulder frame, packed tight by years of silent emotional burden. Tonight, Alexis’ posture elevated, she looked ready to begin another duet after taking time away from the stage. When she spoke with her hands they didn’t look as thin, unhealthy thin, as they had when she first dialed the police three years prior. Now they looked strong and nimble, artful and dedicated like those of a violinist. This was the first time George had seen Katie interacting with others as if she had given a performance moments prior, basking in the light of acceptance and love and support and fresh possibilities.

“She’s happy. It’s good to finally see that in her.” He mused to his wife.
She sipped her mojito and lost her frown. George loved how small her eyes were when she smiled.
“Yes- you’re right. Let’s make our way over there and say goodnight.”

They wound through the crowd, Katie pulled George by the wrist between talking members. Around them the music pounded in different beats according to the status in the relationship. High-pitched trumpet squeak laughs came from nervous first time dates that stood near soft, melodic jazz smiles from comfort-seasoned marriages. Terse, harsh worded snarls from pipe organ relationships drawn out and ready to close bumped against light, effervescent searching flutes, eager to start a winter fling. George heard the surrounding nonsynchronous music but the pull on his wrist kept his pace constant; Katie drove the rhythm like all good percussionists.

Arriving at the destination, they hugged while the music near Alexis drowned out their congratulations. George looked at Katie’s lips. He knew they wanted to mention his sighting, but she held back like one who protects a small child from knowing the ruining truth. Alexis could not pick up on the subtle cues from Katie’s face, the celebration clouded her mind with new beginnings. Katie and George kissed Alexis’ cheek, smiled and then exited. The brisk December air chilled their breath and stung their arms in a silent attack. Their ears stung as if headphones ripped out from them, the sudden muted reality of the outside world deafening them. Looking into his wife’s eyes, George felt a pulse, and his head bobbed to a rhythm they had set years ago in a park after eating ice cream.

George hugged his wife’s shoulders and helped her towards the car. Without the support of the crowd, her walking swayed. She laughed about the stumbling, laughed loud because she always laughed loud when her face flushed and the alcohol pumped through her veins. George’s eye closed at the corner as his grin lopsided. He looked left and saw a figure smoking under the stop sign at the end of the street.

The evening air was crisp and transparent and everything the smoke was not as it held above the figure in a spiral that began from a right angle set cigarette. A hand reached from near his waste to ash out his cigarette, a hand that looked clunky in the distance. The blocky hand was one that attempted to play an instrument and gave up, a hand destined to ponder silence after inept actions. George helped his wife into the car, careful to close the door not on her leg.

Katie leaned back into the seat as George drove towards the stop sign before turning. She lifted her head to adjust her seatbelt and slapped the window with an open palm.

“That was Jaw-remy!”

George nodded in agreement as the silence that memory creates expanded in the car. Katie looked back in the rear view mirror as the car picked up speed. Above the red sign the smoke rose like lonely petals from a lover’s flower stem in reverse. When Katie spoke, the words tumbled soft as notes from a piano as the alcohol gave her hidden truth.

“Don’t ever cheat on me, George.”

She stared out the window. George grabbed her hand and lifted it towards his cheek, warming the flesh with hers. He breathed deep the vanilla, widening his eyes as it blitzed his senses. The silence in the car disappeared as the beats of their hearts drummed faint thumps, soft consistent thumps.

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