CHAPTER 4
Chapter song list: Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift, Attention by Charlie Puth
SARA BETH
Inside, a group of 20-somethings are playing pool on the lone pool table. Music fills the space and people are dancing but there is no designated dance floor. Just a good old dirty bar that looks like someone decked it out in junk they found at your grandma's garage sale. An original Ms PAC Man machine stands alone against one paneled wall and the bar stools, over tufted blue pleather 70s High top stools stand mostly empty in front of the bar. They look overly high end when compared to the 70s wood and brown retro floral velvet sofa that Heather plops herself on as we walk in the door. The plastic covered cushions remind me of my great grandmothers living room and crinkle as she make her claim. The bar, without question, wouldn't look out of place in an episode of CSI and I immediately fall in love.
"They nailed 'divey atmosphere," I yell to my friends over the music blasting from the jukebox speakers. Giving them a thumbs up as I spin around to inspect the back of the bar.
"If this doesn't leave you with Courtney Love vibes I don't know what will," Heather chimes in as she makes her way to the bar. She returns with four cans of PBR and huge grin.
"We are all definitely leaving with an STD or two,: Colleen mocks.
"Nothing on tap just $2 PBR cans. And the bartender...holy fuck..." Heather gestures behind me as she makes her way back to us from the bar.
I turn around half expecting to spot some overly greasy and tatted hipster but instead my eyes land on what is surely one of the hottest men I've ever seen in the flesh. Dirty blonde hair and facial hair to match. His all-American face and well sculpted 20-something body can't be hidden by his carefree attire. Well worn jeans and a tight nondescript white T-shirt have never looked that good on anyone before. He is a walking sex god. The thing wet dreams are made of. The girls burst out laughing when I turn around and they see my expression.
"We need a fire extinguisher for her parties!" Colleen yells to a group behind us.
I swat at her and laugh.
"Hello, there stranger," Rachel purrs at him from across the bar.
"Holy hell..." I exclaim, fake fanning my face and chest while laughing. Before I can look away, he catches my eyes from across the room and a smile creeps across his face.
"Shit he caught me oogling," I spit out, flushing from embarrassment.
"From the looks of him, he's probably used to it."
"Pool tables free! Let's play!", Heather shouts as she peels herself from the plastic covered sofa and heads toward the pool table, staking her claim.
"Rachel, you rack 'em," Colleen barks.
The four of us each grab a stick from the rack and chalk the tip. Several times my eyes drift toward the bar. The male bartender has been replaced with a young female counterpart and is nowhere to be seen. Must have been the end of his shift, I think to myself. Placing both hands on the edge of the table I lean forward and raise my voice.
"Losers buy the next round," I challenge.
"$2 PBRs? This is the highest stakes game of pool that's ever been played in the history of pooling," Rachel giggles.
"You're on. Break!" Heather motions to Colleen.
The first game is a hot mess but full of laughter and inside jokes. Heather and Colleen sink the eight ball half way thru the game and stride to the bar in defeat to buy us another round. When they return, PBRs in hand, Colleen leans across the table to hand me my can.
"Sara Beth, truth or dare," Colleen smirks.
"Oh dear is this really what the night has dissolved to already?" I ask grimacing. I'd rather not play and instead try to avoid eye contact by by focusing my attention on the brown stain on the pool table.
"Okay fine, Rachel you go first! Sara Beth is ignoring us. Truth or dare?"
"Truth," Rachel responds quickly.
"Which of your kids do you like better?" Colleen breaks out in obnoxious laughter.
"That's easy, Alice. She doesn't pee on the floor like Henry does." Her blunt response has us all laughing until we cry.
"Okay, back to Sara Beth. Truth or dare?" I roll my eyes in annoyance.
"Fine. Truth."
Heather, Colleen and Rachel huddle at the far end of the table whispering to each other.
"You can't gang up on me like this," I laugh waving my stick at them.
"Tell us a secret you haven't told anyone? Your life can't truly be all roses like it appears from the outside," Rachel chides as she stares at me from across the table.
I'm not sure if it's the fact that I'm drunk or that I'm in a dive bar so far from home, possibly both, but before I can stop the words from pouring out of my mouth I yell, "I've never had someone give me an orgasm".
All three of the girls who clearly were waiting for a more PG admission freeze and their heads whip in my direction in horror.
"Never?" Heather stares in horror.
"Ryan has never made you come?" Rachel asks in disbelief.
"But you've been together since high school...for almost...oh my God Sara Beth. How? Why?" Colleen demands putting her hands on her hips.
When I spin to my left to grab my beer, I see the handsome bartender picking up our discarded PBR cans from the high top tables. My face flushes and I cast my eyes to the floor as a wave of nausea washes over me. I throw up a silent prayer that he didn't just hear me admit to never orgasming at a man's hand. I want to melt into a puddle and disappear. Thankfully he doesn't let on that he heard my admission and makes his way back to the bar with our empties. I turn around and face my girlfriends.
"I could kill you all," I threaten as they burst out laughing. Instead I focus my attention at straightening my dress and playing with the hemline.
"But seriously, Sara...what the hell?" Heather redirects the conversation.
"Okay. Okay. Enough. I've orgasmed...just, well...Ryan hasn't ever given me one," I divert my attention to to racking the pool balls.
"Ever? You've been together for what, 20 years?" Colleen asks leaning on the table.
"Twenty-four actually. We got together our senior year."
"So in 24 years he's never once shown issue that you haven't orgasmed?" Rachel asks in astonishment, hands on her hips. "Is he seriously that self-centered?"
"No. No...he well, I started faking them when we were dating because I didn't want to hurt his feelings and well, I guess I just never stopped". I feel silly as soon as the admission is out in the open.
"Wait, you have been faking orgasms for 24 years? Girl, how have you not turned into a serial killer with all your pent up sexual tension?"
"How can he not tell you are faking them?" Heather demands. "I mean, I faked an orgasm or two over the years just to wrap up horrible sex but this..."
"Does he just not do it for you, you know...that way?" Rachel nudges.
"It's not like that. I mean, I guess sometimes it is. I can't stand it when he drinks," I sigh. The irony of me complaining about him drinking too much while I've had too much to drink isn't lost on me. But, admitting it out loud feels like a weight has been lifted so I continue. "If he comes to bed after having too many he's sloppy and rushed and uses far too much tongue", I inwardly cringe while mentally imagining him licking my chin and bottom lip. I stare at the floor and for the first time realize that I am physically repulsed when being intimate with Ryan when he's been drinking. I hesitate for a moment before continuing. "And other times I just feel, obligated? You know. Marriage with kids is busy. So I find myself waiting for it to be over. But he wants to make sure I'm satisfied too so I just, well, fake it so he finishes."
Rachel, Colleen and Heather are stunned into silence. By the looks on their faces I have said far too much. Did I seriously just admit that out loud? How much have I had to drink? I shift from foot to foot and clear my throat silently praying that one of them changes the conversation.
"Sara, I'm glad you say you are happy but there is zero shame in admitting that you aren't fulfilled. Sex is a big freaking deal," Rachel says adding more chalk to her stick.
Unfulfilled. Unfulfilled. I lean back against the wall processing Rachel's words. Is that it? The piece that's been missing? The nagging voice in the back of my head? I just need Ryan to give me an orgasm. Spice up our sex life. Is it that easy? My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of shots from the bar.
"Here you go ladies," the bartender says as he places a round of shots on the table in front of me.
"Oh thank you but we didn't order those," Rachel admits. Colleen elbows her for trying to deny the free drinks.
"She meant thank you," Colleen corrects her, smiling.
"No, these are from the guys at the end of the bar," he says motioning to the stools closest to the door. The guys sitting in them begin waving and giving us come hither looks.
"Enjoy the shots but steer clear of them", he says as he lowers his gaze, smiles and steps back from the shots he placed on the table.
"We knew we liked you!" Colleen shrieks.
"You're not just a pretty face. You're street smart too! What's your name handsome?" Rachel hollers giving him a high five and a hip bump.
"You're welcome. It's Luke," he says smiling as he walks back in the direction of the bar without another word.
An hour of drinks, pool and truth or dare later, and I feel like my bladder might burst on the spot. I jump down off the stool and cross the room to the bar bracing myself with furniture along the way. My inner monologue begins to chastise me for the drunken mess I've turned into tonight.
"Excuse me, Luke? Where's the bathroom?" I ask with puppy dog eyes.
"Oh geez, you aren't suited for our bathroom," he chuckles, throwing the rag he was wiping the bar down with on the back counter. "Follow me, you can use the one out back." He motions for me to step around the bar and I follow him behind the curtain. The weight of his words begins to sink in to my cloudy mind.
"What do you mean not suited for?" I ask defiantly, a bit drunk and a bit more offended. I puff out my chest and narrow my eyes in anger.
He chuckles again and stops in front of a closed door. Grabbing the door knob and pulling the door open, he turns and leans in to me.
"This bar is below you. Our bathroom is covered in graffiti and bumper stickers. You deserve better than a dive bar. Period," he says softly. I'm lost in the depth and his eyes. Deep, striking blue eyes. I break the connection and close my eyes, breathing in his scent. A mix of laundry soap, sandalwood and hints of beer that he's been serving all night. Trying to center myself, I reply, "You don't know anything about me," I say in defiance.
"Well you've obviously been with the wrong men," he declares. My eyes pop open in surprise. How much of our conversation did he hear? All of it? I'm both furious and embarrassed. A part of me wants to turn around and slap him for his comment.
But a much larger part of me just wants to be near him. Without realizing it, he has walked behind me and whispers just loud enough for me to hear, "Sara, don't be embarrassed. That's on them not you". His breath moves the hair by my ear. Leaving goosebumps on my arms and neck. I close my eyes again and hold my breath as his hand slowly moves to the side of my face and tucks the loose hair behind my ear. He exhales loudly and his arm slowly falls to his side brushing mine. Electricity vibrates through my body screaming for him to touch me again.
I stand unmoving in the doorway of the bathroom fearful of what I will do if I move even an inch. I'm married. I'm married. I mentally repeat to myself. You're just drunk. Don't do anything stupid. I turn towards the bathroom.
"Him. Singular. It's only been him," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I bite my lip and roll my eyes. Thankful my back is to him. Why did I just admit to this gorgeous stranger I've only ever been with one man.
He doesn't let on that he even heard my admission and instead reaches past me and turns on the bathroom light.
"I'll be at the bar," he says and turns on his heels, leaving me alone. Internally I'm both relieved and disappointed with his retreat. Without another word, I step into the bathroom and turn the lock on the door. Staring into the mirror over the sink I look back at the reflection in the mirror. The reflection seems foreign. How did I get here? How did I waste 24 years of my life going through the motions of an unfulfilled marriage? Why did I just admit that to a complete stranger? I don't want to be drunk anymore. I close my eyes and the tears begin to fall as reality sinks in.
I'm not sure how much time has passed but it's obviously longer than anyone should spend in a bar bathroom because I hear a knock on the door.
"Sara Beth. Sara...are you in there? The bar is closing. We've gotta go!" It's Rachel. She sounds concerned.
"Yeah, I'll be right out," I say, wiping the rest of the almost dried tears from my cheeks and splashing cold water on my face.
"Okay, we already settled the tab and we'll be outside waiting for you," she says.
I give myself a few minutes to dry my face, touch up my make-up and wash my hands. Somehow, despite too much alcohol and slightly red eyes, I don't look like a complete train wreck. I take a deep breath, unlock the door and slowly make my way to the exit.
The only light inside the bar is coming from the pendants above the pool table. I keep my eyes straight ahead, glued on the front door as I make my way through the empty bar. No more awkward interactions with handsome strangers. No more embarrassing admissions. One foot in front of the other. Straight ahead to my girlfriends.
Just as I reach the bar door, I think I hear someone say my name and I pause momentarily. My step falters for half a second but I throw my chin up, push the door open and step on to the sidewalk. Taking a left out of the bar, I spot my friends that have gathered at the intersection and slowly walk their way. They are huddled at the cross walk waiting for me to catch up. Colleen catches my eye and waves at me. I wave back and she turns back to her animated conversation with Rachel.
"Sara wait," I hear over my shoulder.
I freeze and turn to see Luke, the bartender, rushing towards me.
"You forgot your jacket," he says as he walks closer, holding it out for me. I reach to grab it from him but he motions for me to turn around. Without thinking, I do as he instructs, sliding my arms into the sleeves as he slowly lifts the collar up my back to my neck. Straightens the collar of the jacket and in one swoop, gathers my hair at the nap of my neck and lifts it out of my jacket, fanning it down my back. Far too intimate a gesture for a stranger to perform.
"Thank you," I spit out, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach and the sexual tension in the air.
Before I can turn around, Luke runs his hands down the arms of my jacket and gives my wrists a squeeze before leaning into my hair to speak.
"Let me walk you home," he whispers. "You've had a lot to drink and it looks like your friends aren't ready to call it a night yet." His chest is now leaning against my back while his hands are still holding on to my wrists. I glance up at my friends at the corner who, for reasons unknown, are now doing the YMCA. I smile at them and gently shake my head. He gently squeezes my wrists again, getting my attention.
My breath catches. My eyes close and a jolt of excitement runs through me. This gorgeous stranger, who is at least ten years younger than me is asking to walk me home. I'm not sure if it is the pheromones, alcohol or fact that I spent at least 20 minutes in the bathroom crying over the realization that I am in an unfulfilled marriage but I turn into him and do the exact thing I would have never imagined myself doing. I step back and turn to face him.
"I'd love that," I say looking up into his face. The moonlight accentuating his chiseled jaw and cheek bones.
He smiles and squeezes my left hand with his. With his right hand he brushes his thumb roughly across my cheek and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
"Hold on one second," I take my hand back from his and pull my phone out of my bag to text Colleen.
*Go on without me. Luke is going to walk me home.* I hit send before I can think twice about what I have agreed to. Dropping my phone back in my bag I look up to meet his stare.
"Ready," I tell him.
He smiles and nods, and tucks my arm in his, allowing me to lean in to him and steady myself as we walk on the uneven sidewalk. Taking a right out of the bar we walk away from my girlfriends and maneuver around the never ending piles of garbage on the East Village sidewalks. It's always trash day in New York, I chuckle to myself.
From somewhere behind us I hear my name yelled followed by hysterical laughter and cat-calling. I giggle out loud and hear Luke do the same. We continue to walk up the street together. Not saying a word. Colleen obviously shared my text with the group and approves of my poor life decisions. What the hell am I doing? NYC 1-Sara 0.