Between February and November

To say I was stunned when I saw them as they made their way through the throng of people would have been an understatement. As my sight adjusted to the neon haze, I watched wide-eyed as they bumped through the crowd to snatch an empty table. Their heads were huddled close together as they sat. Why did they look like such close friends? What was Alan doing at the bar? I had no idea who that woman with long blonde hair was, but she sure looked happy to be on my husband’s arm.
They perched on their chairs, close together, and she laughed at something Alan said. My face flushed. I didn’t realize I had balled my fists until I tried to run a hand through my short brown hair. I immediately hated everything about the little blonde Barbie doll, but I hated even more the way he looked at her. The expression on his face. He looked completely intoxicated by her.
Did he ever look like that when he was with me?
I stood in front of the bar, my mouth hanging open. Alan was supposed to be working. Of course, I wasn’t supposed to be at the bar either; I should have been working too. My full-time job as a home health aide kept me out of the house nine hours a day, and today had been brutal. My day started off shitty and just got worse. I needed to be left alone, and I needed a bourbon.
I inhaled the sickly sweetness of cheap liquor and stale air and exhaled through my nose as I shook my head. Shock was replaced by a hot ball of anger as it grew in my gut. Alan lied to me when he’d called me a little while ago and left me a message saying his boss asked him to cover the next shift. I was either giving my client CPR or at the hospital when he called. I had no idea. Time and the sequence of today’s events were fuzzy. But it didn’t matter. Either way, I couldn’t pick up.

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