An Old Fashioned Lady

The setting sun tries hard to get her attention, to turn her around, to give him one more look before he fades away into the night. She has just sat down on the deep red leather stool the hugs the copper topped bar, and the sun can’t stand that she is here now, coming into the place that he now has to leave. He warms her back, a coy way of trying to tap her on the shoulder, to get her to turn around and give him a glance, as she sits quietly, looking out to the direction where the sun will be tomorrow morning, not where he is now. She ain’t one to look at the past, to the wild west show behind her shoulder. No sir, she is focused on where things are going to be, right in front of her, for she got no time for the sun right now and his crazy ways.

Her smile will keep the room warm now that the sun is leaving and the shadows start to form. The people noticed her as she walked slowly and confidently to the place she now home for the evening, away from the crowds and the chaos. She is wearing a plain t-shirt and faded jeans, but she might as well be wearing a crown and dress the way the men glance her way. They notice her because she notices herself, the ability to be present in the moment, to take in her surroundings and call out any bullshit that may be getting in her way. And there is always a lot of bullshit in her way, always has and probably always will be. The price you pay for confident. But every once in a while you can’t help but step in it, the nasty mess that someone else causes in your life. She doesn’t seem to care, she merely takes off the old shoes and tosses them away like the other bad things in her life, the experience gives her a reason to buy new ones anyway.

Golden is the theme in the bar this evening, the sun’s fading lights and the girl’s flowing hair. Both have the ability to light up the room, the only difference is the girl isn’t on a time schedule like the passing sun, so she will be here for a while. With the sun and the past both behind her, she looks angelic, the sun’s own rays piercing through her locks of blonde hair, causing it to glow almost a bright as the buzzing neon sign hanging up behind the bar. 

She sits there, making love to a drink that warms her spirits just as much as she warms the room. Her fingers outline the rim slowly as she takes her index finger and dips it into the potion, and then to her lips. She teases the drink, a little kiss here, a sip there, all the while not letting it forget who is actually in control of this relationship. She has always been in control of things, even when the world doesn’t think so. She is where she is because she refuses to be anywhere else. A lady like her doesn’t fade easily.

She grabs the glass and lifts it up, admiring the muddled universe of contents inside, bringing it up to her nose and inhaling the sweetness. If this drink were a man, he would have no control of the situation, no control of her and certainly no ability to decide his own fate. And so the drink will just sit there and enjoy the ride, knowing damn well that he too will be gone like the setting sun, it’s just a matter of time, but what a hell of a way to go. 

The drink is simple. The girl drinking it is not. Not to say she doesn’t enjoy the simple things in life, she does, but she has seen her fair share of setting suns and the the crazy days that preceded them. Like the cherry in the drink, life has muddled her down at times, but like the sugar, she has found her own way of making it sweet. It is not lost to irony that her favorite concoction has three parts bitters in it, a small giggle comes over her when she thinks about it. She has every reason to be bitter, but she allows her bitterness for the world to die in the drink, and she will consume it slowly and methodically, bad into good. Bitterness into happiness.

The vibe in the room is chill, the music cool, but not like Jazz, more like a Lionel Ritchie song from the past. She is the song that men sing when they work, the one that they hum when they are happy and don’t even realize it. She is the reason men write songs and she is certainly the reason why they sing them. She is the itch they can’t scratch and the wind they can’t rope. Try and tie her down and she simply slips away, moving back and forth like a slow dance, punishing you with those eyes that remind you of the ocean. She is a teenage crush that you just can’t get over, even though you are older now and you should know better. There is just something about the way she moves, and tonight she is remembering just how powerful she has always been as she moves slightly back and forth in her chair to the rhythm of the music she has created for herself.

She can be yours you know, but you best not push her around. She has seen the bad that humans are capable of, especially men, and she doesn’t plan on letting that foolishness into her life. The bourbon is the only madness she will accept at this point of her being, and much like her, it does have a kick, but damn that’s good stuff. 

“Orange you going to have another?” The funny bartender will ask, referring to the orange peel that remains in the empty glass sitting in front of her now, trying his best to seem charming. She sees his efforts and she gives him a smile as a reward, the kind of smile that will make him think he has chance, but the also the kind to let him know she is way out of his league. He is simply happy to see it.

“It’d be rude not to,” she quickly chimes, giving him a quick wink that causes the boy to retreat with a smile of his own now. For the few minutes before her next lover arrives, she casually looks around the room and takes it all in. The young couples on first dates, the old ones out for their usual dinner. She sees the things people don’t, the memories happening right now that the people making them won’t even realize was a moment. All these beautiful moments these beautiful people are doing, enjoying their lives, and none of them will think back and remember this night as special, just a normal night if they remember it at all. She knows all the little things make big things, from her drink to her life, it all adds up to one wonderful thing, and she is here for it all. She ain’t trying to stop this train, she is merely learning to enjoy the ride.

The sun is finally gone, hurriedly trying to make his way back around the world in hopes that the lady will be in his sights in the morning. She will make her way home soon, the moon now her new companion, but only after she has a chance to make love to the next glass coming her way. She knows her limits, with men and with alcohol, so she will pleasantly decline the third lover when the bartender offers, like the way she will decline the men that come up to her desiring to be her next as well. 

The second glass is just as smooth as the first, her belly and her spirits now on fire. She slowly brushers her hair out of her face, teasing the glass and the boys in a way that causes them to be on fire as well. She doesn’t mean to cause such a commotion, she is merely doing her thing, but then again, the moon doesn’t mean to cause magic. Perhaps it’s the shiny things in dark places that cause us to take notice, that give us direction.

With the last sip, she simply lets the dance be done. Her lovers now consumed, she too must go. She reaches down to grab the money to pay for the pleasures that she just danced with only to find out the debt has already paid, by a person that wanted to remain anonymous. Could it have been the sun she thinks, or the moon? Maybe the group of mad men at the other end of the bar sad to see her go? She pays no never mind of who paid for her dance, she accepts the kindness and moves gracefully back to the door where she came in. Back to the life that lives outside the bar, where she is the neon sign that buzzes and lights up space and where she is the potion that warms the lives of all that dare to come around and consume her.