"I'm lonely, I'm lonely.
I've got no one to hold
And I'm lost in the cold
And I am freezing.
Slowly, I am freezing."
~Jim Boggia, "Slowly"

October 1994

Maybe if she drank enough, she could wipe away this feeling she had inside of her that she was settling for the sake of having a relationship.

Will had invited her over to dinner, just the three of them. Michael was even the one to suggest it, he said. Any other night, it wouldn't have bothered her. She absolutely loved Michael, thought that Will couldn't have found a better guy. But tonight was one of those nights when all of Danny's imperfections and shortcomings came full force into the blinding light she was trying to hide from. He's forgetful but at times kind. He's an overgrown frat boy but serious on occasion. He could say a million varieties of "I love you" but take them all back with some selfish act for which he won't apologize. And so begins the ongoing fight between her head and her heart. She could do better—it becomes obvious on nights like these—but she still loved him…she thought.

Over dinner, she could see, hear, god, even feel, the love between Will and Michael. She should have been happy for them, and in all honesty, she was, even if it didn't exactly come off that way. She always had been. But it only reminded her of the fact that she hadn't felt this with Danny in a long time. It made her feel completely miserable.

She wasn't alone; in that aspect, she succeeded. But she was lonely. God, was she ever lonely.

And even though she's tried to stop feeling this way, she begins to freeze into ice, keeping the cynicism inside her cold. And it's gotten to the point where she can't find a way to melt it.

God, she wished she could stop crying. She came to this dive bar to take her mind off of everything, only to start crying about a predicament she was responsible for, a predicament she put herself in. She disgusted herself. Be happy for your friend, deal with your own problems. It's that simple.

Yeah, simple. Maybe it will be once she can get someone to refill her glass. Well. Even if it isn't, she can toast to the happy couple while hating the fact that she waited around for some spark in her own relationship that was probably never going to light up.

"Here." She heard a voice beside her as she saw a hand place three cigarettes on the bar in front of her. Wasn't it customary to only supply one? Wasn't it customary to ask if you smoked first? It was as though they just dipped their fingers in the pack and picked out some random number to give away. "It looks like you'll be needing these."

Grace looked up to find a woman sitting down next to her; she looked like she had no business being in a place like this, dressed in a sleek black dress and heels that no doubt came from one of those upscale uptown stores that Grace could only dream about being able to afford, but she didn't think to ask about her presence here; she was more taken aback by a seemingly generous offering. But the first thing she finally focused on was this woman's lips, such a crimson red that she had never seen before. It took Grace a moment to finally find her voice and respond.

"Oh, I appreciate the gesture, but I really don't…" she said, attempting to turn down the cigarettes.

"Come on, honey. Live a little. These aren't going to kill you." She took out a lighter and slid it on the bar next to the cigarettes before flagging down a bartender. "Get me a martini…and a refill on whatever she's drinking," she said as she pointed to Grace. "Figured you might want another."

"Thanks. Why three?" Grace asked about the cigarettes. She put one in between her lips and fumbled with the lighter until the woman took it out of her hands and lit it for her, watching the glow of orange at the tip. The smoke was surprisingly smooth as she let it linger in her lungs for a little before lightly blowing it out. She instantly felt a little calmer after exhaling; why hadn't she done this before?

"I learn from experience. The first one is to stop the tears, and don't tell me you haven't been crying. Once you feel something inside you other than the sadness, the tears will slow. The second one calms the nerves. It's something to relax you, after all. And the last one…that's the one that makes your problems disappear in the smoke. It may not solve everything, but it sure as hell helps."

Grace focused her eyes on the smoke slipping from her lips, the way it curled in the air around her before disappearing. She sighed. "I'm just sick of trying to make something fit that doesn't. He and I have absolutely nothing in common. And I know that there's something about him that makes me want to stay with him. But lately I can't for the life of me remember what that is. It's almost as if I'm just in it merely to have a relationship." As soon as she said that, she winced, wanting to take it back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have unloaded that on you. You don't even know me, it isn't fair."

"It isn't fair for you to keep it in. We all need someone like that in our lives. Someone to commiserate. Not to assume that you don't already have someone like that."

"My someone is currently in a blissful relationship and I know he's unable to grasp the concept right now. It's one of those things."

"So try me. I've had more than my share of heartbreak before. Perhaps you can find something in me to relate to."

Maybe it was the drink; maybe it was the fact that someone was willing to listen. Maybe it was the fact that she was a complete stranger to Grace. Maybe it was something about a late night bar that just makes you want to open up to someone you don't know. But it was so easy to talk to her. So easy to let everything go. And in turn, this woman let Grace in on the fact that she was in the same boat, not sure how serious this man was that she was with. But when Grace looked down at the bar, she saw a diamond ring on the woman's left hand.

"Then why did you say yes?" she asked, taking the woman's hand in her own to examine the ring a little closer. Her touch was so soft, smooth; she wanted to keep her hold on it, but knew she would have a hard time explaining it, and she didn't want to lose this connection now, not so quickly. Not when it felt so right.

"Because I thought I could overlook that. Because I thought that despite all the signs pointing to our downfall, he actually loved me if he took the time to pick out a ring and slip it on my finger. It's a huge commitment. It just made me think that he would have thought it through. But I don't think he really did."

"So is that why you're here tonight? You can't tell me this is one of your regular haunts."

"Stan's regular haunts are my regular haunts. His circle of friends is my circle of friends. Somewhere along the line I erased the division between his life and my own. I can't remember doing it, and that's what scares me the most. So consider this my first act of rebellion." She let out a laugh as she said it, as if it were a ridiculous notion. Trying to save face. But Grace could see that deep down she was as tormented about things as she was.

It only became one more reason she was so intrigued by this woman. There was torment there, but there was no way it would fully make its way to the surface. It was as if she was so jaded that nothing surprised her anymore. So jaded that it turned a once full and beating heart to stone. And Grace immediately wanted to find a way to change that. But she always considered herself a little jaded too, not by choice, but by Danny's actions, or lack thereof. And she realized that she probably couldn't warm this other soul when hers hasn't even begun to thaw out.

But it didn't mean she didn't want to try.

The woman looked down at the watch around her wrist, breaking the spell that had so transfixed her. "I should probably go. I've got to get back home sometime." She started to get out of her seat as she fished through her purse, pulling a few bills out. "This should cover your tab, too," she said and put the money on the bar with a definitive motion before Grace could even protest. She started to walk away.

"Wait," Grace called after her and watched her turn around. "Can't I at least get your name?"

A smirk began to play on the woman's lips and she let out a quiet little laugh. "You're serious? Well, at least someone thinks I'm interesting…" she trailed off, an obvious jab at her fiancé. She gave Grace's request a bit of thought. "Later. Might as well leave some mystery about me."

Grace merely stared, open mouthed, unable to process the fact that she had poured her heart out to this person, and supposedly vice versa, but not even give her name—it hadn't occurred to her that she didn't even fill this person in on the same thing.

"I'll be back here," the woman said, breaking the silence that Grace had left alive. "Promise. As long as you say you'll be here for me to find."

All Grace could do was nod.

As she watched the woman leave, she looked down at the bar and realized that she was already on her third cigarette. The third one, the one to make her problems disappear in the smoke. Well. They did disappear, but not in the smoke.

They disappeared in the promise of something new, the promise that she was inadvertently given by the woman with the crimson lips.