Meet me in the City

The kids packed into the hall. They were nearly shoulder to shoulder, throughout the bar. Relaxation after a long week of work was in hot demand.
Near the corner of the bar, Martin leaned beside Pac. Martin watched the kids grab their drinks and smiled as he sipped his beer. He looked on at the stage. The bar’s band would be playing any minute from now. The collective stresses of every patron would soon be melting away with each strum of the guitar and kick of the drum.
“Linds is in town tonight.” Pac said.
Martin raised his left eyebrow at the words. She couldn’t be. Just this morning he saw Brooklyn images broadcast from her Instagram account. The headache of being too on brand, of using Hootsuite to schedule perfectly curated photos for your personal Instagram feed shook Martin. She couldn’t be.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Martin texted her. She replied with ferocious speed. Sure enough, Linds was over by the Rum Room, near the second pool table. Martin found her quick enough. She sat in the center between two friends on a leather couch bookended by lamps. He asked her if she wanted to grab a table to see the band.
“Of course.”
Martin was stunned to see her. He kept looking back at her to make sure she was really there. The band started to play after they grabbed a table close to the front. Dreamy tunes floated across the room and the tables.
“Do you still love me?” she asked.
She cut to the chase. Before answering, Martin took a sip of his beer. He looked over at the shaggy haired guitarist. The man played his guitar with precision and skill. Martin felt sick. But he swallowed some more beer and turned his head towards Linds.
“Yes.”
A smile stretched across her face. Martin could see her dimples. He leaned back against his seat and crossed his legs. Martin wanted to play it cool. He hoped he was. Linds took a sip from her beer and leaned in closer. She wanted to put the heat on Martin.
“You’re a silly boy, Martin. I think I hate you.”
Now it was Martin’s turn to smile. The music was still playing and a cocktail waitress was taking orders behind Martin. He could hear their order: two IPAs and three shots of rye whiskey. Martin wanted to order the same thing. It sounded like a good idea.
“You’re just saying that,” he told her.
She didn’t reply at first. She tilted her head slightly until it was facing the stage. Martin thought she wouldn’t say another word to him. She’d draw it out, until he budged. But instead, she was just testing the waters.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asked.
The air was hot outside. Vagabonds were washing their feet in the fountains. Martin looked up at the great big abstract art in the sky and wondered if it would still be here in a thousand years. Linds told him her flight was long, but she was glad to be back.
“What are we doing?” Martin asked. There was bite to his voice.
“I wish I knew,” Linds said.
They sat on a bench in front of the school. Cars drove by on the street, headed south. Both of them hung on the edges of the bench, unsure if they should sit back. Martin finally leaned back further into the bench. He put his arm on the rest. Linds did the same on the opposite end. Another car drove down the street, hanging a left at the end of the block. The car disappeared behind the post office.
“Maybe you aren’t just saying that.”
“I know what I said, and I want you to know I meant it.
“But you didn’t say it as an absolute. You just suggested it as a possibility.”
Linds shook her head for a moment. She wanted to shrug her shoulders and walk away. Instead she let the silence linger for a little longer. She hoped it made Martin squirm in his seat. She wanted to see him nervously shift, anything, but he pulled out his vape pen. He drew in a large plume of smoke. She could hear that irritating noise of the liquid turn to vapor. She felt sick.
“I just don’t know,” Linds said. “I feel like I might, but maybe I don’t.”
Before he spoke another word, Martin exhaled the pale clouds. Linds rolled her eyes. She sat up straight, feeling her spine stretch along the metal bench.
“Well,” Martin said, with smoke lingering in his mouth. “I love you.”
“But you don’t think you’re at fault. When you are.”
“True.”
The train made its way past them. They could hear the steel wheels clatter against the sides of the rail. The horn echoed across the facade of the buildings. Passengers looked back at Linds and Martin through the windows.
“I just wish you weren’t such a damn jerk,” she said.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You should really lighten up.”
“Hmm, me?”
“Is that all you can say?”
“Yes.”
“Ok.”
More silence. Infinite amounts of emptiness was spontaneously willed between them on the bench. They were an entire Universe apart. Linds noticed it first, and got up from the bench. She looked down at Martin.
“I don’t ever want to see you again, Martin. Ok?”
“Ok.”
