5

"You must have me confused with someone else," I said with my best bartender smile. If I was nice enough to these guys, I might break fifty bucks in tips for the night. "My name is Christine. What can I get you guys? You made it just in time for last call."

The shorter one in the middle chuckled as he slapped the guy on his right, the one with the dark beard, on the shoulder. "She's a funny one…." He turned his gaze back to me. His eyes were blue; blue like the sky. I felt weird. I felt like I knew this guy from somewhere but couldn't quite place where.

I tried to keep the confusion from my face. I might not have to serve this guy at all; it seemed like he had had enough to drink already. "What can I get you guys?" Suddenly the idea of an extra twenty bucks in tips didn't matter so much anymore. Something wasn't right; I wanted to leave.

"Asking for your hand in marriage is too forward?"

I simply stared at him; what am I in for?

He laughed. "Three whiskey sevens, please," he finally said. Why could I not shake this feeling of knowing him from somewhere?

I busied myself making their drinks; while I was doing that, it felt like I was being stared down. Sure enough, when I looked up, the one in the middle was staring holes through me. There was something about his blue eyes and the way he was looking at me—head slightly turned to the side—that calmed me for some reason. I gave him a small smile as I felt my face start to turn red.

I brought the drinks over to them, making sure to serve the two on the ends first and the one in the middle last. "Here you go….Anything else I can get you?"

He shook his head. "No, my dear, Abigail. This is perfect. Thank you. Say thank you, boys."

The two large men on either side of him mumbled their gratitude.

He called me Abigail again. Why? He must have me confused with someone else. "Sorry…my name is Christine….Have we met before?" I blurted that last part out before I could stop myself.

He laughed. "Christine, huh? They warned me that you might go by something different," he said softly. "They warned me about a lot of things….." The last sentence was spoken so quietly I might have imagined it.

"Yes…my name is Christine. My friends call me Chrissy…Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"In this life, no. But darling, we have met before a long, long time ago," he said in a raspy voice as he brought his drink to his lips. "You don't know who I am?" he asked as he reached over and touched my hand. Something happened. My entire body went completely warm.

I shook my head as I allowed him to keep his hand on top of mine. Something strange was happening. Strange visions quickly flashed through my mind. I saw myself briefly with this man. Where did I know him from? Why did I have that picture in my head for a split second? They were too fast for me to grasp them. "No….I don't…..I should, though, shouldn't I?"

The smile on his face grew wider. "Yes, darling! Yes! You should know me… You do know me, don't you? Somewhere in that beautiful head, you know me!"

I shook my head. "I….." I was about to answer him when the door swung open and let in a blast of cool air. John stumbled through the door. The two men on the end turned and glared at the drunken intruder. "Chrissy!" he shouted as he made his way over to the bar. "Babe…."

The two men stood up and made their way to stand in front of me so John couldn't see me. "John, what are you doing? You have to be up for work in a few hours!"

"Babe. I had to come down here and tell you that I'm sorry for earlier; I shouldn't be such an asshole…." he slurred as he took in the three men standing in front of me. "Hey boys….move on over," he said as he sat himself down on a stool next to the man with the dark hair and beard. "Babe, can you get me another beer?"

I shook my head, "John, it looks like you had enough already. You didn't drive yourself down here, did you?" I noticed that the man in the middle had now stood up and was fishing around for his wallet in his pocket. I didn't hear John's drunken ramblings because I was entranced with watching this man count out several twenty dollar bills and a small card. He set them under his glass and then without another word, he and the two other men, made their way out the door. They were gone before I could stop them. I knew that guy from somewhere.

John continued rambling on and on about how sorry he was and how he promised not to be a jerk to me anymore. I wasn't listening. I counted out the money he left and rang the three drinks into the cash register. He left me a one hundred dollar tip. I slipped the card into my pocket. I didn't want to read it in front of John.

I went through the motions of closing out my register and cleaning up. I waited until John got up to use the restroom before I took the card out of my pocket and read it:

"North End Hotel and Suites, Room 101. Join me, my beloved."

Did he just try to pick me up by leaving a card behind? Normally when I get hotel room numbers and phone numbers written hastily on pieces of paper during a shift, I just toss them away in the garbage and laugh. This one? This one I folded very carefully and put into my pocket.