Every other day, lining up would be a personal hell... but today was different. I was in no hurry to get home... home wasn't even on the agenda as of yet... The familiar smells, the noise, the shouting, the muttered swearing, the cracked streets and the inhumane conditions kept me grounded for yet another night -- keeping me in a state of indifference, which I desperately needed.
And upon arrival at my destination, the most crucial thing of all came unexpected... it was Jazz Night.
I could not recall her name but she moved like a housecat with the saddest eyes and sang with a heartfelt emptiness that echoed my very own.
No sabĂa que buscaba amor hasta que le encontrĂ©
This business is no place for the meek, but tonight, I was genuinely humbled by the house band's musical prowess... and so I kept myself glued to my seat in admiration. Eight songs later, I would swallow the last drop of my current bottle, head for a table where the lone evening star would settle in and ignore the rest of her entourage... this was no place for the meek.
No, I will not remember her name... but to me, she had the beauty of a Ria... and that is who she will be forever. No pressure, no tomorrow or yesterday to judge us. This will probably be the last time I will ever see this woman again... and so, let it be the best. For tonight, I will be Rex, which is ironic because I would feel like a slave for the rest of the night.
The casual conversation would lead me peering into another soul's window... while my own was boarded shut... in any case, she did most of the talking and although her smile kept forcing itself into the universe, her eyes will betray a sadness that no word in any language I am familiar with would be able to describe.
And she would talk... a lost love, a drunk father, a hollow bank account, a dream... and I would absorb all these things that I'm sure would evaporate in the next few hours... but for tonight, Rex and Ria would be the only people in existence... if only for a few more minutes.
Her next set would commence and I would grab the bill, pay our tab, take my hefty sack of law books, zip my jacket up and just leave. And just like any other night, there would be no goodbyes. I would not look back as she called out my one-night monicker through the substandard microphone. I did not see it, but I felt the first real smile for the night... only to be followed by the usual sadness in her eyes. My last sensation was catching the start of familiar tune, long left unheard:
Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
and think of you
caught up in circles confusion--
is nothing new
I walked down the steps in a straight line, only be suprised by an old friend who recently left the priesthood. He would introduce me to his companion (girlfriend, i presume) and proceed to have a few seconds of small talk.
"You're alone", he said in an almost questioning tone.
Then you say -- go slow --
I fall behind --
the second hand unwinds
"Yes, I am", I replied. And I just left.
It was Jazz Night.
