At the Jukebox

Rachel leaned against the jukebox. Keith’s eyes had followed her there from the table. She searched the lists of songs for anything without the word love in it. Rachel could feel Keith’s eyes on her backside. Her eyes burned as she looked down into the shiny glass box.

“ You know I couldn’t find one song without the word love in the title.” Rachel said as she returned to the table. Keith looked at her blankly saying,

“I’ve got three gigs lined up next month.”

“Which days?” Rachel asked him as she wiped the salt from the rim of her glass.

“The last three Saturdays. Leave your door open for me. I’ll be thinking of you all night.” Rachel sipped her drink and swallowed a throat full of crushed ice. Empty bottles hung over Keith’s head. The way his collar was turned up tonight made her think of W.C. Fields or Humpty Dumpty.

Rachel put her feet up on the seat next to Keith. For days her feet had ached. She had been working in a photo lab for months, a late shift, with staggered days off. She was trying to sort things out, trying to save enough money to get her camera out of the

repair shop. No one was allowed to sit down during shifts at the lab and she worried she’d never think things through at the rate she was going. Rachel just hurt all the time and was too tired to think, too broke. Keith took one of her feet onto his lap and rubbed her ankle. He slipped off her shoe and said,

“You have the prettiest little feet Rachel.”

He kept looking at her foot and then asked, “What did you wear today?” “

“I don’t remember, Keith. But I was thinking about something you said a while back and it’s been bothering me. Remember the time I called you, that time my car broke down. Sure we’d just met, but I needed a ride. I called you and you said ‘sorry, you’re stranded out there baby.’ I ended up taking the bus Keith, but I called you first, because I thought we had something good going. You wouldn’t come and you weren’t even doing anything else. I put it out of my mind but I shouldn’t have, I mean, what kind of a thing is that to say to a person, that’s what I want to know.”

“I never remember saying that Rachel. I wouldn’t say something like that.” Keith protested.

“Well you did. I remember distinctly, I remember the phone booth I called you from, I remember having to look for change, and I remember thinking that I could call you.” Rachel clenched her teeth. Keith wriggled her big toe and said

“Oh your memory is fuzzy, like these furry little yellow socks.”

The waiter came to their booth at the back of their favorite restaurant, their usual spot. They both ordered another margarita and something to eat. Rachel moved her feet back to the floor, flat on the floor, where they’d been all day. She kept looking at Keith, watching him. He looked back at her now as they ate but it wasn’t as if they’d just had the conversation she thought they’d just had. After a few minutes of silence, Keith dared Rachel to take a bite of a hot red chili, saying that it would make her feel better. Then he asked her again what she had worn that day, reminding her how much he likes to think of her when he can’t be with her, how he imagines what she has on.

“I wore those black pants you helped me pick out, the ones you insisted on buying for me, the ones that are so tight they’re uncomfortable.”

They didn’t talk much about anything during the rest of the evening except Keith’s gigs and how things were going with the new material. They were getting really good, the band was ready. He’d be thinking of her when he was up there playing. He wished she could be there. He would think of her, what she wore that day. He’d come by afterwards. His words were rolling out polished, like his songs. He was glistening.

Rachel looked down at her empty plate and noticed how hungry she still felt. Keith was still talking about his latest love song and how he’d have a tape for her in a few days. Rachel just sat there opposite from him, noticing a crack in the red leather seat near his shoulder. Finally folding her paper napkin over on itself into a tiny little square.

Rachel dropped it like a coin into the shiny clear glass on the table and watched as it bloated with water, wondering what it would feel like to drown.