Chapter 3 From Across the Bar

Jennifer rushed away later that day, eager, and yet at the same time not, to get home. Karen had set her up with a friend of hers, and she was supposed to meet him at the Astoria restaurant by 7pm. The entire day she had pushed the blind date out of her mind, trying not to let the decision over what to wear and how to do her hair and how much to avoid talking about work distract her from what she was supposed to be concentrating on. It meant though that by the time she got home, she had less than an hour to make all those decisions she had been putting off all day. She stood in front of her closet, not knowing what to pull out and put on. She didn't even feel energised about going on the scarily exciting blind date – an experience which in the past – meaning only two other times – had always made her giddy and excited at the prospect of maybe randomly meeting her Prince Charming. But that feeling wasn't with her tonight. It was a chore to put on make up and blow dry her hair, but she did it because she couldn't bare not knowing if maybe he was Prince Charming, and because she knew Karen would never let her forget it if she piked on her.

Many streets away, Matt drove home slowly, feeling drained from a day which hadn't even really been that draining. But it was not a feeling that he wasn't used to – many days lately had felt like this, and it wasn't work. It was Emma and something he had so little experience in - relationships. The thought of breaking up with her had never entered his mind, but he still wanted desperately for something to change – just in everyday life – so that he wasn't leaving work everyday longing to just stay there and so that when she asked him to meet her at a work function in the city the way she had tonight he wasn't so incredibly tempted to be a no show.

By 8pm he had been home and changed and driven back into the city and ventured into a room full of people he didn't know from a bar of soap. He got himself a drink, but even with this usually comforting and ice breaking instrument in his hands the night did not get off to a good start. He looked around for his blonde other half and after many minutes of scaling the room he saw her flitting effortlessly between groups of people, so deep in conversation with each and every single one of them that he knew he would only be a burden if he was to stand beside her and do the boyfriend thing. He stood at the bar waiting for her to see him, but it took her a good twenty minutes before she did. She bustled over, a wide smile on her face as always, so happy to see him. She kissed him hello and he responded back with as much energy as he could muster, but even he was aware that it wasn't very much. She didn't notice though, possibly high on a bit of champagne and finger food. She pulled him into the crowds and held his hand in hers as she introduced him to her colleagues and friends. He was polite and friendly, but engaged in nothing longer than three sentences with any of them.

By 9pm he couldn't do the small talk anymore, and could no longer bear pretending to be interested. The only person he felt comfortable around in the room was Emma and she continually flitted off to talk to other people, leaving him alone and feeling self conscious. So with one last swig of his beer, he put his glass back on the bar and left without saying goodbye – he couldn't find Emma to say goodbye anyway – so he left without letting her know he had done so. And as he wandered out into the street he wondered how he would explain it to her tomorrow.

He was in the mood for another drink, but didn't want to venture too far from where he had parked his car. He was totally unfamiliar with this part of the city – it was very upmarket and not really his type of place, and he was worried for a while as he walked if he could actually find a place nearby that he could feel comfortable in and just have a quiet drink, even if it was on his lonesome. He strolled up and down and finally settled on a place dimly lit and sparsely occupied. He walked into the lobby, discovering it was actually a hotel. His eyes searched for the bar and when he saw the sign he headed that way, eager to just sit and drink quietly, lost in his thoughts. He pulled up a seat at the sprawling dark wood bar, rubbing a hand over its shiny surface.

"What can I get ya mate?" the bartender asked as he approached.

"Just a beer thanks," Matt replied, not even caring what type he was given. He took the cold glass appreciatively and took a contemplative sip from it, feeling the chilled amber liquid slide down his throat slowly. Swallowing, he looked around the bar at the other patrons. They were mostly dressed up older couples, relaxing with a drink or a coffee after trips to the theatre or the nearby restaurants. It was a Friday night after all. Matt wished he had some place better to be, that was for sure.

Several snugly booths made up the corner of the room, looking out onto the Melbourne skyline through floor to ceiling windows. The view was breathtaking to Matt, and he thought it a shame no one but his was appreciating it by sitting close to these windows. Except for one person. Huddled into a booth all alone was Jen. She sipped at a glass of white wine, her legs crossed and her eyes staring out at the night sky. He smiled. It was good to see her after the night he'd had. He got up from his place at the bar and walked over to her.

I love it in the city when two worlds collide

"Can I join you?" he asked quietly, standing at her table.

She turned around, slightly startled. "Matt," she breathed just as quietly. She grinned up at him. "Absolutely," she said. "Sit down, sit down!" she motioned with her wine glass. She shuffled over in her seat so that they could sit and face each other around the tiny circular table.

Matt shook his head at Jen, smiling as he did so. "I can't believe I'm seeing you here on tonight of all nights."

She chuckled as she shook her head in equal disbelief. "Ha, neither can I! But it certainly makes tonight better," she confessed, looking back at her drink and avoiding his eyes, embarrassed.

Matt nodded, understanding. "Yeah, it sure does mine too," he said quietly.

"Why, where were you supposed to be?" Jennifer asked, this time not letting the uncomfortable subject slip the way she had earlier in the day.

Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked out at the view, toying with the rim of his beer glass. "Emma has this work thing on and I met her there," he admitted softly. "But I didn't stay long."

Jennifer leaned on the table, looking closer at Matt's drawn face. "Why not?" she probed.

"It just wasn't my thing," he explained. "Emma was in her element, but I didn't belong there." It almost pained him to admit it out loud.

"What will Emma say?" Jennifer asked.

"I dunno," he replied sadly. " Probably: Why can't I be the perfect boyfriend?"

"You don't always have to be perfect Matt," she said soothingly in a low voice, keeping the conversation between them.

"When I'm sitting next to a flawless Jennifer Mapplethorpe I do!" he replied, half serious half joking.

She blushed a little as she swatted him on the shoulder and they shared a chuckle. It was true, he did feel unworthy in front of her, and she would never have described herself as flawless, especially not in this establishment, and further, she would never have expected anyone else to describe her in that way. But through all the embarrassment and awkwardly honest compliments, it suddenly just felt like the silent 'click' had flown through them both. They were past a hurdle. Whether it was the first, the last, or one somewhere in the middle, they didn't know, but they were past it.

"So why are you sitting at a table all by yourself on a Friday night?" Matt asked, hoping to take the attention off his own self conscious issues.

Jennifer blushed an even deeper shade of red. "Blind date gone wrong I suppose," she confessed. "He didn't even show!" Inside she was genuinely hoping this was because he'd had a family emergency or got hit by a train or kidnapped for ransom – not just because he didn't want to waste his Friday night on someone he didn't know, or because he'd come, seen her waiting for him and decided not to approach her. That would be the ultimate kick when she was down.

He laughed a small, sympathetic laugh, not to chide her, but to comfort, saying without words that he too had been there, done that, and that it had worked out for the better, because now they were sitting there together, talking honestly and openly in a way they never had before. They had escaped their terrible circumstances for just one night.

Still though, Matt knew – escaping was not the same as being free.