It's just a bad day not a bad life. It's just a bad day not a bad life. It's just a bad day not a bad life. That phrase seemed to have been on his mind since the start of the break in his relationship. It's a reminder of sorts, but what do you say to yourself when that one bad day blends into the next day and then the day after that and the one after that? There's always the possibility of tomorrow bringing about the good in the day. All he can do is hold onto hope that it'll happen tomorrow; or eventually, he just had to get there. This day couldn't come to an end fast enough.
With a lifetime of bad days behind him, he thought that now they would be scarce and far between. It was her birthday, -Abby's birthday. Yet, they were two hours apart with more than 90 miles separating them. He should call her –maybe wish her a happy one. She probably wouldn't answer. She hasn't answered one call from him since his big move to Chicago. He doesn't blame her though. He's brushed her off during the days leading up to his big move. So it's only right that she treated him just the same. This relationship is going downhill and he doesn't even know if it's worth the effort to try and stop it.
It was a mutual decision to go on a break, to put their relationship on pause. It wasn't technically a break up; it was more of a mutual separation where he moves to Chicago while she stays in Milwaukee and the two test out the waters to see where life brings them. It's not a break up. It's their time apart, a time where they can reconsider their relationship, to see if the feelings were true and to see if they could truly live without one another. This was her stupid idea and like the guy he is, he gave in without too much of an argument and now he finds himself regretting that.
He needed an ear to listen when he vents. He needed advice; he needed comfort. He needed support. He needed someone to take his mind off the pressure his boss is placing on him; off the hell his boss is putting him through as the new guy. He needed a friend; he needed someone who actually had his best interest in mind.
Taking a break in their relationship is all they're doing. It's not necessarily a break up. She still sends him good morning messages and goodnight texts. It's mixed signals she's giving out. He tries to respond when he can but his new job has him on crazy hours. When he does find the time to text her, she never responds. She simply wishes him a good morning and then says nothing to him the rest of the day until it's time for her to wish him a goodnight. Taking a break in a relationship is ambiguous; it means what they want it to mean and Jay had wished he spoke to her about the terms in their break, but he was too frustrated with her and eager to start his new job that it slipped his mind.
And now he's in Molly's pub; the one place he's been trying to go to all week but his schedule and work load never permitted it. But he's here now and that's all that matters. He's nursing a glass of whiskey as he tries to ignore his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. It could only be one of three people –Abby, Will or his father- and since none of those possibilities are his boss, he doesn't bother checking to see which one. If it's Will or his father, he didn't feel like hearing another lecture; he's a grown man capable of making decisions for his self. If they're bad decisions then he'll find that out on his own. That's life; it comes with bad and good decisions, taking chances, making mistakes and lessons learned from them. And besides, they'll leave a voicemail. Neither of them will ever pass up the opportunity to remind him just how much of a failure he is to them. He's always been a disappointment to them. The bar is set low. And then there's the possibility of it being Abby and he feels a little bit guilty about not checking his phone just in case it is her but ever since his move, she's been playing games and he's not going to entertain it. He's not going to respond. He debated about wishing her a happy birthday but just the thought that it could be her calling him, helped him settle that debate; he's not going to wish her a happy birthday. Maybe he is the figurative pot calling the kettle black because now it seems like he's playing games?
In the almost one year they've been together, he had fallen for her reserved nature. He wasn't in love with her, far from it actually, but he liked her a lot. She was cool. She didn't drink beer and she wasn't into sports but relationships were about compromise. She wanted to move in with him a few months after they started dating but he wasn't ready for that type of commitment, yet now that he sits alone at a bar in Chicago, he wouldn't have minded if she joined him, but he knows that's only a temporary feeling that'll pass once his spirits are lifted. His thoughts are all over the place. Sitting at a bar, reflecting, will do that to you. One second he doesn't want her around and then the next he wouldn't mind her company. A large part of him was happy she said no. She was his safety net, his type of comfort zone that his previous relationships never afforded. She was passive and non-confrontational –typically-, but it only reduced their amount of arguments and lessened the passion in their sex life. Still, they had a good sex life, -considering all that she was willing to do was missionary, but he never once described their sex life as exciting. She was boring but she was consistent. He needed consistency.
The last time he saw her was a little over two weeks ago.
And now, here he was, sitting at the counter of this bar that his new coworkers recommended, Molly's, drowning his sorrows in a glass of whiskey.
Technically, he was on his second glass with every intention of ordering a third. The bar had a discount on Wednesdays for law enforcement.
The sleeves of his Henley were pushed up to his elbows. The top three buttons of his Henley are undone. His leather jacket was draped over the back of the stool beside him and his hair was a tousled mess as he constantly ran his hand through it.
Jay sighed as he finished the last few drops of his drink and he looked up from the empty glass to search for the bartender. He caught her eye –Dawson, his partner's sister, as she introduced herself the first night he walked in- and he waved his hand to signify he needed a refill. His eyes zeroed in on the counter as he weighed the significant changes in his life. He got the job of his dreams; he was no longer going to be a traffic cop pulling people over and writing tickets. He got the job he's always wanted in a city that truly needed his level of commitment. He accepted that at the expense of losing his girlfriend. Technically, they're on a break –he reminded himself. A woman who was perfect on paper, -she graduated from college, she's an accountant with a standard nine to five job, only child who grew up in a two-parent household. She didn't care for the vices in life and because of that some called her a saint and an angel and others called her boring and a prude. She was perfect on paper but she wasn't perfect for him.
No one saw their relationship happening. He knew her for a year before they started dating and her crush on him had been obvious, and when she gained the courage to ask him out, he couldn't find it in himself to say no. They've lasted this long because they don't venture out of their comfort zone, they're a boring couple to be honest and she's a safe option. And he didn't find anything wrong with that. They made each other laugh, Abby challenged him intellectually, she followed a strict routine that left no room for spontaneity and the sex, well; the sex was alright.
After this break was over, would they be continuing their relationship? Did he even want to continue it? He rubbed his face with one hand as he felt the frustration of making that inevitable decision rise within him. He didn't want to be the bad guy but at the same time he honestly didn't know if he still wanted to be with her. She was going to be perfect for someone, just not him, so was he just stringing her along? Was she stringing him along? Every time he's ever brushed upon the topic of parting their separate ways, she practically begged for him to stay with her. She acted like she was incapable of being single, of being alone. She was clingy, constantly checking up on him and he was a grown man, he didn't need her clocking his whereabouts. She was emotional, regularly forcing herself to cry to get her way. She can be temperamental at times, jealous, unable to handle rejection or being turned down and her self-esteem is on the low side but no one's perfect despite the fact that she pretends to be and the fact that on paper, she appears to be, but once you get to know her, you get to know those flaws.
The stool next to him, the one that his jacket was not draped around, made a sound as it scraped against the floor. He then felt the presence of another body settle onto it.
Jay didn't turn around; he didn't look to see who had sat beside him because he really wasn't in the talking mood. He preferred to ruminate alone. The person who had sat next to him –a woman based on what he could see in his peripheral and the smell of her intoxicating perfume- had ordered a drink after calling out the bartender's name as if they were old friends. The raspy undertone in her voice, the gravelly nature of it had enthralled him, it intrigued him enough to take a quick glance her way, -and it was one that he hoped was fast enough that she didn't notice.
A brunette, with her hair parted down the middle and braided back in two braids, had sat down next to him, wearing the most interesting choice of attire, -a black leather jacket, a gray pencil skirt and a white button up shirt that was tucked inside of it. She had shimmied out of her jacket and partially turned to drape it around the back of her chair, but when she turned back is when she caught his eye, "Hey," she grinned and those dimples attracted his full, undivided attention.
Instead of a verbal response, Jay chose to tip his beverage in her direction in acknowledgement of her greeting. She turned forward to watch Dawson prepare her the drink of the night, and as she waited, she kicked off her shoes and Jay's eyes found itself gazing down to her navy blue painted toes. When he looked back up, he found himself caught staring. Her beautiful hazel eyes latched onto his and she spoke to him again, "I always heard that if you take a picture, it'll last longer," she quipped just as Dawson slid her drink towards her, "Thanks Gabs."
The small smile he cast her way was the only indication he gave that he had heard her. He turned back to stare down at his hands as they cupped his cold glass. The two of them –him and her- sat in silence as they both nursed the drinks in their hands. By the time her second drink came, she had ventured from the drink of the night and settled on a nice, cold beer, he found himself sneaking another glance at her. A beer drinking girl, now that's sexy. He cast a look her way again to find her eyes drawn towards the television, "Damn," she uttered into the glass rim of her beer bottle before she took another sip. She's a sports fan, or more specifically a football fan, that's even sexier. Jay shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needs to get it together, he needs to stop staring at her, but it's something about the way she has one leg crossed over the other making her already fitted pencil skirt tighten even more that has him hooked. And her legs, they were flawless, spotless and he found himself physically attracted to the muscle in her calf.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to stare?" She was glaring at him and her voice was stern but Jay picked up on the teasing tone underlying her speech.
"I don't remember," he remarked.
"Oh," she says with mock surprise, "he speaks," the sarcasm is on a whole other level.
"She died when I was five so I don't remember much of what she told me," he clarified his earlier statement. And he saw her trying to mask her sympathy, gulping down the last remaining sips of her beer before slamming it down, "I…I'm sorry. That was rude of me."
"Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?"
He meant it as a joke but the look in her eye said something her mouth wouldn't speak. It's obvious she didn't take it as one. She turned her upper body around so she could face him, so she could see him better –it's only right considering how much he's stared at her- and she rested her left arm on the bar top. Her legs were still crossed and her feet were still bare. This was a bar predominantly filled with regular customers that consisted of law enforcement, firefighters and paramedics and he can tell based on everything about her that she was neither of the three, but she was here, sitting comfortably and relaxed as if she's a regular too. Maybe she is? And maybe he'll see her more often if he keeps coming back?
"How about I not mention your mom and you not mention mine?"
Jay smiled softly at her before silently nodding in agreement. He found this woman seated beside him hot and beautiful; her confidence is attractive. And he could see that much just based on the way she sits, she speaks and carries herself. She appeared to be the complete opposite of Abby and that was something his body yearned for right now. He needed a release and his hand was no longer cutting it. They never listed the terms of their break; they never said whether or not they'll be able to go out with other people, sleep with other people, and flirt with others or something else that is typically taboo for a committed monogamous relationship. But, he found himself wanting to venture out, wanting to seek a release because the tension that is built up within him cannot be healthy and drinking himself into an early grave isn't the healthiest way to handle the warring his mental state is going through right now. Even before they went on their break, he and Abby hadn't slept together in weeks. He didn't realize how much he wanted sex; how much he craved it right now until she sat down next to him. It'll be a way for him to release the pent up frustration ruminating within him, the tension constantly present in his shoulders and a chance for him to take his mind off of the stress that comes from the job and the pressure and grief his boss gives to him on a daily basis. Abby wasn't here. And the two of them weren't talking. And he needed an escape, a way to release all the energy and emotions built up within him. He wanted unbridled, wild, passionate sex and by the way she's looking at him, biting upon her bottom lip as if she's trying to read his mind, he starts to think that maybe she wants the same thing too; maybe she has an itch that needs to be scratched.
"So," she leans forward, eyes sizing him up as she gave him a once over, -he's already done the same to her, "what brings you into a bar this late on a Wednesday night?"
This time, he turned to face her and instead of resting his arm on the counter, he sat his hand on her knee, "How about we add that to the list of things we shouldn't talk about?" He didn't want to talk about work or Abby and those were the main two reasons why he's at the bar tonight.
"I didn't realize it was going to be a list." Her petite, soft hand covered his, yet it made no move to push his hand away, to shut down his obvious advancement. They're both on the same page. It's obvious they both want the same thing and it's not a relationship, it's not a date and it's not a commitment, it's just sex, that's all, plain and simple, with no attachments and no names or numbers being swapped. This night is only going to end one way.
"Yeah, well, I didn't really come here to talk anyway."
He saw her raise an eyebrow and he witnessed the slow stretch of her lips and those beautiful dimples start to make an appearance again, "What did you come here for then?"
A pregnant pause sounded in the loud, crowded bar. It was unusually crowded on a Wednesday night. His eyes briefly flashed towards his empty glass, "…it was the alcohol."
"And now?"
He takes a metaphorical page out of his earlier handbook, in the way he doesn't respond. Instead, he slips off his stool, tosses enough bills onto the counter to take care of both of their drinks, grabs his jacket off the seat next to him before extending his hand towards her. And she didn't waste a second before slipping back into her heels, grabbing her jacket and accepting his hand, allowing him –this attractive man, this stranger- to lead her out of the bar.