Scareship_Issue8

and relieved. When she finds out it’s nothing, that will get this
ridiculous situation out of her mind.
Some sports team has won something big, so the customers
are tippling and tipping like mad, and she’s too busy smiling,
laughing, serving, and slipping out of hugs. She declines the offer
of a wet shirt to general laughter and the casual closeness of Ted to
the would-be soaker. She moves quickly away before she gets wet
and he gets in trouble, and the night goes by in a blur, like she’s a
train and all the customers are stations. And tips keep hopping on
board, and this is the best she’s felt in a long while. So she is
surprised when Jen, the other barmaid, asks her as they’re leaving
the bar, if she’s OK.
“On a night like this? Oh yeah,” she answers, and they both
laugh.
“Was it the guy the other night?”
Cheri is startled. “Guy?”
“The wet one. I saw the way he looked at you. Then I looked
away for like, a second, and he was gone. And you were shaking.”
“He was gone.”
“Like whoosh, into thin air. He was cute though.”
“Yes, he was,” Cheri admits, then laughs. “But not enough to
distract me that much.”
“Maybe you need to get out more.”
“Maybe I need to get out at all.”
So somebody saw him. Or Jen is as crazy as she is. Lunacy
loves company.
On the way home, and getting ready for bed, she reflects on
Jen’s final comment. How long it’s been since she’s had a
relationship. Or sex. “Long time between drinks,” her uncle used
to say at the infrequent family get-togethers. But she doesn’t think
that’s it. She’s not exactly a raging sexual or emotional cyclone.
Breezy with occasional gusts is more like it.
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