Deandra stomped the snow off her boots as she walked in to The Standard Tap and simultaneously pulled the scarf from around her head. Warmth greeted her amidst the laughter and conversations. She spotted her friends in the corner throwing darts, and her eyes immediately hovered on the roaring fire.
Oh, how wonderful, she thought as she made her way toward the warmth. Maybe I can linger here a bit longer.
What she wanted to do was grab a book and a soft cover and curl up in front of the fire instead of making small talk with coworkers. It had been so long since she's been out, and she knew the break from her normal routine would be good for her; but the only time she'd been to the Standard Tap had been years prior when she spent a week in the Poconos with Jarvis. They had ducked into the bar on the way to the airport, and it was the last real conversation the two had shared.
An echo from her past whispered from a corner of the old building, and she held her breath as she forced the memories from her mind. She made her way to the bar and ordered a hot buttered rum. When she felt chilled, she always craved a warm drink, and the buttered rum reminded her of home in Texas. Although it never got this cold there, Deandra's parents would make warm drinks to ward off chills. Buttered rum had been her favorite since she was a young adult.
As she waited for her drink, he eyes caught a glance of a man watching her from across the room. Even before her mind could register, her heart lurched. When recognition flashed into her eyes, he smiled and began to cross to her. Heart racing, she could barely believe the irony. Quickly, she extended her hand to establish distance between them.
"Mr. Williams," she said coolly. "It's a surprise to see you here."
He took her hand. Instead of shaking it, he placed his free hand over hers and gently caressed her still gloved hand. Embarrassed, she withdrew her hand and fumbled with her gloves. "Sorry," she muttered. "I just walked in."
He smiled and pulled out the bar stool in front of her, signaling for her to sit down. "I noticed." he offered.
Confused, she glanced to the corner where her friends were, and then made a mental note about the time. "Only for a few minutes; I'm meeting friends."
"Of course," he said as he slid into the bar stool next to hers. He signaled to the bartender who slid over and took his order.
"I'm not pulling you from anything, am I?" she asked.
"No, not really. I stopped in after being out with friends. I just needed a nightcap."
She wrapped both her hands around her steaming mug when it arrived and allowed the steam to sweep her chilled face. Closing her eyes, she drew in a breath and allowed the smells to register. Butterscotch, she thought. They need to learn how to make this without the flavoring.
"Butterscotch," she said. Jarvis looked at her quizzically. Noticing the expression on his face, she continued, "Probably butterscotch liquor or candies. I wish they would've used real butter instead."
This made Jarvis laugh slightly.
"You said you were meeting coworkers," he began. "Are you doing a job here?"
She laughed and turned her head slightly. "You are so funny," she said. She took a long drink of the buttered rum enjoying the feeling as the warm alcohol slid down her throat.
He eyed her intently.
"What?" she drawled, amazed how easily her Texas accent returned.
"How long has it been?"
Deandra knew the answer and didn't need to calculate the time in her head. 6 years.
Although she wanted to retain control, to be the professional she had managed to become, it amazed her easily she reverted to a flirtatious and coy woman. Keeping her glance sidelong, she looked out of the corner of her eyes at him and drawled out her response, "How long since?"
The effect was immediate. Jarvis felt a yearning deep inside himself, and he longed to reach out and touch her hand. Normally, he kept his professional face on at all times. Deandra was one of the only people who ever could make him want to show a softer side. He shifted gears.
"Do you remember when we came here?" he asked.
Yes, of course, she thought.
"Dee, seriously, let's get a drink and just talk this through," he sighed as he maneuvered the car through the snow covered streets. They had been arguing all day, and as he headed toward the airport, all he really wanted was to talk it out. Jarvis reasoned in his mind that a solution was possible, and he didn't want Deandra to cut her trip short out of anger.
"There's an old pub on the way that I think the historian in you would really enjoy."
She shrugged. "Fine," was all she said. The next plane out for Austin was not for four more hours, but she was prepared to relax in the airport and catch her breath before heading home to uncertain questions and the realization that things with Jarvis were finally over.
She looked out the window at the passing cityscape as Jarvis continued to analyze all the words that had passed between them. What had started off as a romantic weekend in the Poconos ended in heated explosion of anger from both parties and Deandra leaving the B&B alone in the middle of the night.
He wanted to reach out to her, to curl his fingers into hers. She had grown strong and more independent in the year since he had left Austin, and some part of him longed for the woman he had met. This thought made him laugh to himself. He had explicitly told Deandra she needed to be more confident and assured, to be able to know exactly what she had to offer a relationship.
And she had done just that. On her first trip to Philadelphia, Deandra allowed Jarvis to control every decision, and he had felt like a tour guide instead of a boyfriend. This time, Deandra came prepared with a list of expectations and ideas, and she stood her ground when he tried to overrule her. She had become exactly what he thought he wanted, what he did want. He just wasn't prepared for how well she could debate him.
As he parked the car across the street from The Standard Tap, this realization comforted him. He got out of the car and waited for Deandra to also get out, but she didn't. He went around and opened her door and took a long look at her. She still took his breath away.
Deandra extended her hand and carefully stepped out of the car. She had never walked in snow, never walked on snow covered sidewalks. The effect of the extremely cold air and snow falling made her feel disconnected from herself, and she took a deep breath trying to hold onto the feeling.
The street was virtually deserted as they crossed. Deandra glanced down the street and marveled at the effect of the store front lights glistening in the snow. It was everything she had always imagined, and she longed to extend the moment. She thought of a line from a movie she had seen once about a whole lifetime lived in one magical second, and for the first time, she completely understood why she had tried holding on to the strained relationship with Jarvis Williams. "It's not him; it's what he represents," she thought.
Inside the warmth of the pub, laughter echoed. Deandra immediately noticed the roaring fireplace in the corner of the main bar area. It drew her, and she left Jarvis' side. She wasn't concerned about his feelings at all, so focused on her own desires to linger in the magic.
She knew he had slid next to her, and she could almost feel his impatience. She refused to acknowledge him. Instead, she turned toward the bar and slowly removed her gloves and hat. "I think I would like a strong Irish coffee," she said to the bartender. She removed a ten dollar bill from her wallet and placed it on the bar as Jarvis slid in next to her. She turned to him and asked, "Would you like to sit here or at a table?"
He eyed her with a look almost of contempt, but she didn't react. Instead, she turned back toward the fireplace and said, "A table might be more private."
He started to object, but Deandra had already moved away, her back to him, leaving him to order on his own.
When she found an empty table not too far from the fireplace, she set her drink down and took off her coat. She rubbed her hands together toward the fire and then wrapped them around the warm steaming mug. When Jarvis finally sat down, she began, "I always imagined what it would be like to sit in front of a roaring fire and have a drink. I honestly can't think of anytime this could've happened in Texas. It's beautiful."
Silence hung between them. Deandra sipped at her drink. It's warmth and rich coffee flavor comforted her, and she was surprised at how much she missed Texas. She had already decided not to initiate any conversations, so she allowed the silence to linger like an unwelcome guest. She tuned her ear to the conversations around her and imagined herself a part of those happy moments instead of the dour one before her.
Finally, Jarvis began, "I wish you would change your mind about leaving early."
Lost in part in the alternate possibilities of her life and part in anger, Deandra didn't take the bait. Instead, she looked at him with her saddened eyes and smiled with a coyness she rarely used anymore. She looked deeply at him, his brown eyes and rugged jawline. She could still feel the touch of his lips against hers only hours earlier before the day's tension began, and she longed to feel them again. For the first time since she had met him two years earlier, she realized the touch of a man's lips on hers would happen again and that she would survive when she left here. Slowly, she removed her phone from her pocket and glanced at the time.
"One more drink and then I should be headed to the airport," she said as she left her chair. She flirted with the bartender as she waited, never looking back at Jarvis. When she tried to pay for the second drink, the bartender told her it was on the house. She smiled and set a five dollar bill on the bar. "Well, this is for that great smile of yours," she drawled. "You ever get to Texas, you come see me."
"That took a while," Jarvis said when she returned. Again, she refused to engage. "It's never cold enough, really, to have warm drinks like this back home," she drawled instead.
"Deandra! Can you please talk to me and stop the small talk?"
"I am talking to you," she responded coolly. "You were very clear that anything more than friendship between us was not possible. This is exactly the type of conversation I would have with any of my friends."
Jarvis wasn't expecting this. He expected Deandra to plead with him, to question him. For her to take a position was not what he expected.
"What do you imagine is the story of that couple over there?" she asked, beginning a game she often played with her best friend Stephanie. "She is probably completely in love with him, but he has already decided to move on."
"I am not playing this game with you," he started.
"Then what do you want? You sounded pretty final when you told me we could not continue our romantic relationship. Why are we having this discussion?"
She took a long drink, almost finishing the warm beverage. It burned going down, and she steeled her spine. "It's useless, really, to drag this out any further."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it!" she almost screamed.
Jarvis looked around nervously, hoping no one heard her raised voice.
"For God's sake, who cares who hears? No one here knows us. I need another drink." As she got up to leave, he grabbed her hand.
"Please sit down," he said. "I'll get it."
During his absence, Deandra imagined again what a life here in Philadelphia would be like for her and for her daughters. She imagined that life with and without Jarvis. She thought about the life she was tentatively building in Austin and about the life she abandoned in her small hometown. All the possibilities blurred together as the fireplace sparkled and warmed her face.
When he returned, Jarvis handed her the drink and said slowly, "Do you even notice how people look at us?"
"What?"
"Do you ever notice how people look at us?" he started again.
Deandra took a slow drink and sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's your white privilege. You don't ever think about how people perceive you," he stated so matter of factly that Deandra almost laughed.
"Seriously? People don't look at us any differently than they do anyone else. Why is this such a huge deal?"
"My job..." he began.
"Oh my, I am not even going there," she scolded. "I refuse to buy into this."
He took a breath and pushed forward, "In my life, I have to work harder than others. People do judge me more harshly. Any woman I date must be able to live up to that scrutiny. I don't think it is something you can handle."
At this point, Deandra had heard enough. "You think I am not judged? You think I have had it easy?" she demanded. "Life is not easy for anyone, not even for a girl from the trailer park. I've had to work even harder than most of the people I grew up with. Don't presume to think you are the only one who has struggled."
"It's different," he stated, finishing off his drink. "The fact that you think we are talking about the same thing illustrates my point about your privilege."
Deandra stood abruptly. "Unlock the car so I can get my luggage," she demanded as she pulled on her hat. "I am going home. If you want to believe this lie you are selling, find another audience for it."
Jarvis was embarrassed. As he glanced around the pub, he noticed several people staring at them. "Deandra, please," he begged. "Sit down."
She began to walk away, and he tried to grab her hand. She pulled back and said loudly, "Never mind, I have all I need in my purse." She continued out of the door. She was on the phone with a cab company she had located in the yellow pages earlier in the day when Jarvis caught up with her. She ignored his pleas and continued to walk down the street toward the next main through street.
Jarvis finally reached her and placed his hand on her shoulder.
All her anger and disappointment surfaced as she whirled around to face him. "Don't, Jarvis!"
"This is ridiculous. Come back, and I'll take you to the airport."
"Dee! Over here," came the voice of her coworker, breaking her reverie. She glanced at Jarvis and politely excused herself. "It's been nice seeing you again, Mr. Williams. Happy holidays." Before he could comment, she left his side and moved to the other side of the room, slowly wiping a tear from her eye.
Oh, how wonderful, she thought as she made her way toward the warmth. Maybe I can linger here a bit longer.
What she wanted to do was grab a book and a soft cover and curl up in front of the fire instead of making small talk with coworkers. It had been so long since she's been out, and she knew the break from her normal routine would be good for her; but the only time she'd been to the Standard Tap had been years prior when she spent a week in the Poconos with Jarvis. They had ducked into the bar on the way to the airport, and it was the last real conversation the two had shared.
An echo from her past whispered from a corner of the old building, and she held her breath as she forced the memories from her mind. She made her way to the bar and ordered a hot buttered rum. When she felt chilled, she always craved a warm drink, and the buttered rum reminded her of home in Texas. Although it never got this cold there, Deandra's parents would make warm drinks to ward off chills. Buttered rum had been her favorite since she was a young adult.
As she waited for her drink, he eyes caught a glance of a man watching her from across the room. Even before her mind could register, her heart lurched. When recognition flashed into her eyes, he smiled and began to cross to her. Heart racing, she could barely believe the irony. Quickly, she extended her hand to establish distance between them.
"Mr. Williams," she said coolly. "It's a surprise to see you here."
He took her hand. Instead of shaking it, he placed his free hand over hers and gently caressed her still gloved hand. Embarrassed, she withdrew her hand and fumbled with her gloves. "Sorry," she muttered. "I just walked in."
He smiled and pulled out the bar stool in front of her, signaling for her to sit down. "I noticed." he offered.
"Of course," he said as he slid into the bar stool next to hers. He signaled to the bartender who slid over and took his order.
"I'm not pulling you from anything, am I?" she asked.
"No, not really. I stopped in after being out with friends. I just needed a nightcap."
She wrapped both her hands around her steaming mug when it arrived and allowed the steam to sweep her chilled face. Closing her eyes, she drew in a breath and allowed the smells to register. Butterscotch, she thought. They need to learn how to make this without the flavoring.
"Butterscotch," she said. Jarvis looked at her quizzically. Noticing the expression on his face, she continued, "Probably butterscotch liquor or candies. I wish they would've used real butter instead."
This made Jarvis laugh slightly.
"You said you were meeting coworkers," he began. "Are you doing a job here?"
She laughed and turned her head slightly. "You are so funny," she said. She took a long drink of the buttered rum enjoying the feeling as the warm alcohol slid down her throat.
He eyed her intently.
"What?" she drawled, amazed how easily her Texas accent returned.
"How long has it been?"
Deandra knew the answer and didn't need to calculate the time in her head. 6 years.
Although she wanted to retain control, to be the professional she had managed to become, it amazed her easily she reverted to a flirtatious and coy woman. Keeping her glance sidelong, she looked out of the corner of her eyes at him and drawled out her response, "How long since?"
The effect was immediate. Jarvis felt a yearning deep inside himself, and he longed to reach out and touch her hand. Normally, he kept his professional face on at all times. Deandra was one of the only people who ever could make him want to show a softer side. He shifted gears.
"Do you remember when we came here?" he asked.
Yes, of course, she thought.
"Dee, seriously, let's get a drink and just talk this through," he sighed as he maneuvered the car through the snow covered streets. They had been arguing all day, and as he headed toward the airport, all he really wanted was to talk it out. Jarvis reasoned in his mind that a solution was possible, and he didn't want Deandra to cut her trip short out of anger.
"There's an old pub on the way that I think the historian in you would really enjoy."
She shrugged. "Fine," was all she said. The next plane out for Austin was not for four more hours, but she was prepared to relax in the airport and catch her breath before heading home to uncertain questions and the realization that things with Jarvis were finally over.
She looked out the window at the passing cityscape as Jarvis continued to analyze all the words that had passed between them. What had started off as a romantic weekend in the Poconos ended in heated explosion of anger from both parties and Deandra leaving the B&B alone in the middle of the night.
He wanted to reach out to her, to curl his fingers into hers. She had grown strong and more independent in the year since he had left Austin, and some part of him longed for the woman he had met. This thought made him laugh to himself. He had explicitly told Deandra she needed to be more confident and assured, to be able to know exactly what she had to offer a relationship.
And she had done just that. On her first trip to Philadelphia, Deandra allowed Jarvis to control every decision, and he had felt like a tour guide instead of a boyfriend. This time, Deandra came prepared with a list of expectations and ideas, and she stood her ground when he tried to overrule her. She had become exactly what he thought he wanted, what he did want. He just wasn't prepared for how well she could debate him.
As he parked the car across the street from The Standard Tap, this realization comforted him. He got out of the car and waited for Deandra to also get out, but she didn't. He went around and opened her door and took a long look at her. She still took his breath away.
Deandra extended her hand and carefully stepped out of the car. She had never walked in snow, never walked on snow covered sidewalks. The effect of the extremely cold air and snow falling made her feel disconnected from herself, and she took a deep breath trying to hold onto the feeling.
The street was virtually deserted as they crossed. Deandra glanced down the street and marveled at the effect of the store front lights glistening in the snow. It was everything she had always imagined, and she longed to extend the moment. She thought of a line from a movie she had seen once about a whole lifetime lived in one magical second, and for the first time, she completely understood why she had tried holding on to the strained relationship with Jarvis Williams. "It's not him; it's what he represents," she thought.
Inside the warmth of the pub, laughter echoed. Deandra immediately noticed the roaring fireplace in the corner of the main bar area. It drew her, and she left Jarvis' side. She wasn't concerned about his feelings at all, so focused on her own desires to linger in the magic.
She knew he had slid next to her, and she could almost feel his impatience. She refused to acknowledge him. Instead, she turned toward the bar and slowly removed her gloves and hat. "I think I would like a strong Irish coffee," she said to the bartender. She removed a ten dollar bill from her wallet and placed it on the bar as Jarvis slid in next to her. She turned to him and asked, "Would you like to sit here or at a table?"
He eyed her with a look almost of contempt, but she didn't react. Instead, she turned back toward the fireplace and said, "A table might be more private."
He started to object, but Deandra had already moved away, her back to him, leaving him to order on his own.
When she found an empty table not too far from the fireplace, she set her drink down and took off her coat. She rubbed her hands together toward the fire and then wrapped them around the warm steaming mug. When Jarvis finally sat down, she began, "I always imagined what it would be like to sit in front of a roaring fire and have a drink. I honestly can't think of anytime this could've happened in Texas. It's beautiful."
Silence hung between them. Deandra sipped at her drink. It's warmth and rich coffee flavor comforted her, and she was surprised at how much she missed Texas. She had already decided not to initiate any conversations, so she allowed the silence to linger like an unwelcome guest. She tuned her ear to the conversations around her and imagined herself a part of those happy moments instead of the dour one before her.
Finally, Jarvis began, "I wish you would change your mind about leaving early."
Lost in part in the alternate possibilities of her life and part in anger, Deandra didn't take the bait. Instead, she looked at him with her saddened eyes and smiled with a coyness she rarely used anymore. She looked deeply at him, his brown eyes and rugged jawline. She could still feel the touch of his lips against hers only hours earlier before the day's tension began, and she longed to feel them again. For the first time since she had met him two years earlier, she realized the touch of a man's lips on hers would happen again and that she would survive when she left here. Slowly, she removed her phone from her pocket and glanced at the time.
"One more drink and then I should be headed to the airport," she said as she left her chair. She flirted with the bartender as she waited, never looking back at Jarvis. When she tried to pay for the second drink, the bartender told her it was on the house. She smiled and set a five dollar bill on the bar. "Well, this is for that great smile of yours," she drawled. "You ever get to Texas, you come see me."
"That took a while," Jarvis said when she returned. Again, she refused to engage. "It's never cold enough, really, to have warm drinks like this back home," she drawled instead.
"Deandra! Can you please talk to me and stop the small talk?"
"I am talking to you," she responded coolly. "You were very clear that anything more than friendship between us was not possible. This is exactly the type of conversation I would have with any of my friends."
Jarvis wasn't expecting this. He expected Deandra to plead with him, to question him. For her to take a position was not what he expected.
"What do you imagine is the story of that couple over there?" she asked, beginning a game she often played with her best friend Stephanie. "She is probably completely in love with him, but he has already decided to move on."
"I am not playing this game with you," he started.
"Then what do you want? You sounded pretty final when you told me we could not continue our romantic relationship. Why are we having this discussion?"
She took a long drink, almost finishing the warm beverage. It burned going down, and she steeled her spine. "It's useless, really, to drag this out any further."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it!" she almost screamed.
Jarvis looked around nervously, hoping no one heard her raised voice.
"For God's sake, who cares who hears? No one here knows us. I need another drink." As she got up to leave, he grabbed her hand.
"Please sit down," he said. "I'll get it."
During his absence, Deandra imagined again what a life here in Philadelphia would be like for her and for her daughters. She imagined that life with and without Jarvis. She thought about the life she was tentatively building in Austin and about the life she abandoned in her small hometown. All the possibilities blurred together as the fireplace sparkled and warmed her face.
When he returned, Jarvis handed her the drink and said slowly, "Do you even notice how people look at us?"
"What?"
"Do you ever notice how people look at us?" he started again.
Deandra took a slow drink and sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's your white privilege. You don't ever think about how people perceive you," he stated so matter of factly that Deandra almost laughed.
"Seriously? People don't look at us any differently than they do anyone else. Why is this such a huge deal?"
"My job..." he began.
"Oh my, I am not even going there," she scolded. "I refuse to buy into this."
He took a breath and pushed forward, "In my life, I have to work harder than others. People do judge me more harshly. Any woman I date must be able to live up to that scrutiny. I don't think it is something you can handle."
At this point, Deandra had heard enough. "You think I am not judged? You think I have had it easy?" she demanded. "Life is not easy for anyone, not even for a girl from the trailer park. I've had to work even harder than most of the people I grew up with. Don't presume to think you are the only one who has struggled."
"It's different," he stated, finishing off his drink. "The fact that you think we are talking about the same thing illustrates my point about your privilege."
Deandra stood abruptly. "Unlock the car so I can get my luggage," she demanded as she pulled on her hat. "I am going home. If you want to believe this lie you are selling, find another audience for it."
Jarvis was embarrassed. As he glanced around the pub, he noticed several people staring at them. "Deandra, please," he begged. "Sit down."
She began to walk away, and he tried to grab her hand. She pulled back and said loudly, "Never mind, I have all I need in my purse." She continued out of the door. She was on the phone with a cab company she had located in the yellow pages earlier in the day when Jarvis caught up with her. She ignored his pleas and continued to walk down the street toward the next main through street.
Jarvis finally reached her and placed his hand on her shoulder.
All her anger and disappointment surfaced as she whirled around to face him. "Don't, Jarvis!"
"This is ridiculous. Come back, and I'll take you to the airport."
"Dee! Over here," came the voice of her coworker, breaking her reverie. She glanced at Jarvis and politely excused herself. "It's been nice seeing you again, Mr. Williams. Happy holidays." Before he could comment, she left his side and moved to the other side of the room, slowly wiping a tear from her eye.
Comments
Post a Comment