Four Roses
When the guy approached, he asked, “Had a fight with your boyfriend?”
She said yes. She said, “Is it that obvious?”
“No,” He answered strangely. “It isn’t obvious.”
They drank whisky. He talked about various kinds that he had drunk whilst in America, but she could tell that he didn’t know what he was talking about. She ordered two of the same type of Bourbon, one with ice and one without. The whisky made her begin to look at his face closer, for longer. She couldn’t say he was handsome. His eyes were very pale, very blue. That was the most interesting thing about him. That and a kind of bitterness that came from him. She asked him whether he was sad and he said that he was just tired. He was a pilot. He’d been flying all night. Where from, she asked. He said New York. But he didn’t spend any time there. He got on a train to Poughkeepsie. She asked what was in Poughkeepsie. He replied with a shrug.
Some men have a problem with smart women. They don’t know whether they want to fuck them or put them in their place. Maybe that’s the way they feel about smart men, too. But with smart women the two desires can get confused.
The pilot talked about his broken marriage, and his son, Gus. She listened, but she was thinking about something else. In fact she was bored. His tiredness had made him drunk and he kept sinking lower. He wanted to leave. No, she said, I want to stay here. After a while she got up and went to the jukebox. She picked a song that was very familiar to her. She didn’t dance, she just stood there by herself, while the sad pilot watched her. He had tap water in his whisky. That’s how she could tell that he wasn’t serious.
