Going Home

I handed Colleen my glass and gazed out across the river. She had nice legs, but I made the rule for myself long ago- never take a barmaid home: just one more bar you can't go back to. I watched her firm ass walk slowly inside, then turned back to the river.

It was a good bar. Cheap, stiff drinks and few customers. You could see the lights from the village houses in the valley across the river on clear nights and it made you wonder.

I pulled a cigarette out of the pack on the hardwood table and lit it. It was a nasty, black tar creation of French lung-haters. What I wouldn't have done for a Marlboro. That was the only thing I missed about the States. The stupid ones either thought they could change it or didn't care. The smart ones packed their bags.

She returned with my drink and a smile, bending over me as she sat it on the table, exposing her breasts through the neck of her shirt. As she turned slowly around and walked across the balcony toward the door, I saw a group of three young, earthy girls enter the bar from outside. A few seconds later they came through the balcony door, laughing and smoking. Americans. I was the only one on the balcony, probably the only one at the bar. They walked over and sat at my table.

"Hi! How's it going?" the one with the curly brown hair asked, annoyingly.

"Fine," I replied quietly.

They sat down and introduced themselves. They had just graduated from college and were hitchhiking through Europe. Wonderful. As they talked I stared off into space and put myself in conversation mode, smiling and agreeing with them, and laughing when appropriate, all without comprehending a word they said.

"What's taking Alison so long?" I made out through the droning nonsense. Perfect, there’s more.

"I don't know, she's probably still talking to the hokey villager guy in that wagon," one of them replied.

After about five minutes more of their mindless rambling, I decided it was time to go and tried to think of some graceful exit.

The door from the balcony opened and the girls shouted "There you are!" in chorus.

She was dressed in tight, faded jeans and a button-down checkered shirt. She threw her head back and her long blond hair was tossed back to reveal a beautiful smile and striking blue eyes that instantly met mine. All thoughts of graceful escape did just that.

I stood up and offered her my chair, grabbing another from the adjacent table without taking my eyes off of her.

"I'm Jake," I said, taking her hand and kissing it, still holding the chair.

"Alison. Pleased to meet you Jake."

She took my hand, kissed it and offered me my original chair, taking the one from my hand and sitting in it. I stood awkwardly, raised my eyebrows at her in a playful way and sat down, not taking my eyes off of her.

"So, where are you from Jake?" she asked, smiling.

"Downstairs, I rarely make it up here," I said, taking a drink.

As I sat my glass down, she picked it up and took a drink from it. Her eyes opened widely and she shook her head.

"I see you're not into mixed drinks," she said.

"Sure, whiskey and ice."

"Oh," she said, taking another, smaller sip.

The other three girls sat quietly and listened to us. Alison turned and looked at them.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," they hastily replied, again in chorus, and began talking amongst themselves.

"So, what brings you out here to the countryside," she asked, turning her chair to face me.

"Escaping the rambling banter," I said with a slight nod towards her friends.

"Know what you mean."

I lit another cigarette. She took one out of my pack, took the cigarette out of my mouth and lit hers with it. Before I could say a word, she stuck my cigarette back in my mouth.

"So, come here often?" I said, taking another drink and waiting for my punishment.

"Californian, I presume?"

"Very good," I replied. "And you?"

"Oregon. Can't stand Californians," she said, smiling.

She took another sip from my glass.

"They do serve drinks here, right?"

"You sure you’re not from New York?," I said, waving through the window at Tom, the bartender.

Colleen came through the door with a dour look on her face.

"So, girls, has Jake here told you how much he hates Americans?," Colleen asked with a sarcastic grin.

"Vraiment? Moi, aussi!" Alison excitedly replied, winking and rubbing my arm.

"A round of Guinness for my friends, Colleen."

She turned stiffly and walked through the door. The other three girls looked confused, but a glare from Alison got them talking amongst themselves again.

"So you hate Americans," Alison asked.

"So you hate Californians, " I retorted.

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from my drink.

"I think your waitress friend is a little upset," she said.

"She'll get over it."

"Is there something to get over?"

"Not that I know of."

"Good. So, do you live in this little town?"

"For now. Where are you and your friends staying?"

"We've got a room in a little house down the road."

"Just one room for the four of you?"

She smiled and made a sarcastically concerned face.

"Just one little room for the four of you?" she snidely replied.

"I suppose you could put one of us up for the night to make our little room more comfortable?"

"You know, I hadn't thought of that, but yeah, sure, I could do that," I laughed.

"How kind of you," she said with exaggerated gratitude.

"You can take Jennifer, she snores like a bear."

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind."

"Oh?"

Colleen arrived with the round of beers, leaving in a huff. Alison picked up her glass and stood up.

"I'll see you girls tomorrow morning, Jake's going to take me for a walk along the river."

I stood up, took her outstretched arm and walked her toward the balcony door as her friends started whispering and giggling. We walked through the bar and Tom waved good-bye, smiling and shaking his head.