Barstool Couples Counseling

She didn’t want to believe it, but it really was just an unfortunate coincidence that we both wound up here. It shouldn’t have surprised her, though. I wasn’t surprised. Where the hell else is there to go on a Saturday night in Monroe County?

I was there early, not just arriving before her, but before most anyone. It wasn’t right of her to say that I had crashed this party out of spite, even if she wanted to think so. Was it my fault she hadn’t even noticed me sitting there past those stars in her eyes? I was right there at the bar the whole time, had she bothered to pay attention. I was minding my own business (mostly), drinking away a memory that followed me around everywhere, anymore. One minute that memory was down where it belonged, drowning in the dregs of a bottle, and then the next minute that exact same memory was reflected in the mirror behind the bar, wiggling on the dance floor and looking hot as hell. No one was any more surprised to see her reflection there than I was. No one was as unhappy to see it either, at least to see it out there dancing with him. But like I said before, it was just an unfortunate coincidence.

It was my fault we weren’t married. I knew that. I couldn’t blame anyone else, not even him, bad as I’d like to. I never did ask her to marry me. A real man would have asked her, but it hadn’t seemed necessary. Some day sure, but there didn’t seem to be a rush. We were in love, or so I thought. She even said it. We were together, everything copacetic. She never even pushed for marriage, or I would have done it. After all, were married in deeds if not on paper. But then “he” showed up, a new boss at work from up north somewhere; mature, flashy, college educated, monied. Not having that ring gave her all the excuse she needed, although truth be told it might not have mattered anyways.

But how does someone like me counter all of that? Comparing him and me in the mirror, I seemed to come up short even by my own calculations. He wore pretty, slicked-back hair, me a beat-up ball cap. He had on a suit coat and slacks, I was in my jeans and that work shirt with my name embroidered on the pocket. His pocket held the key-fob to a Lexus, mine had a smooth-worn Chevy key. Any way I looked at it I came in a pretty poor second.

Something had died in me that day Raini drove away, something I thought was love.

But it did not feel like love was dead when I saw her reflected though the mirror behind the bar. Love felt very much alive in that moment, but what does a man do? Does he crawl? Does he take the high-road? Does he make a scene, and whip ass? Or does he slip out the back door to forever wonder if one of those other tactics might have turned the tale around? They were too many options to choose from for a high school drop-out a half a dozen beers in.

For sure though, “Dude” was a horrible dancer, but she was good enough to prop them both up. Imagine, not knowing how to two-step? As good as Raini looked to me (and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her), she looked exactly what she was beside him, a country girl grasping at straws. Her hands were all over him as she be-bopped around his “trying-not-to-look-stupid-on-the-dance-floor” ass. What a dick. Her legs looked great in that short skirt and those tall boots that all the girls were wearing, while her curls hung like fire against a lacy white top. A short time ago I would have cut-in… and she would have welcomed it. Everyone always said we looked great dancing together. But now? Even if I tried to cut-in it could hardly go over well.

I should have left, but to get out would have meant walking right past them, so I sat like a fool, sucking back long necks and thinking (something I never was the best at, even when sober). A slow song came on, and she pressed herself up against him. When his hand settled on her hip it was all I could do not to come off my stool. There was a boiling up inside me then that wasn’t at all healthy. I tried to look away, to peel the label on my bottle, to read my phone, to look at anything else, but my eyes kept finding the mirror and that hand on her hip. I knew that if that hand moved one inch further I would be spending the rest of the night with my hands cuffed behind me while trying to explain what the hell had just happened.

But it didn’t move, and I didn’t either.

Boo came in just then. I’d known Boo most of my life. As someone who grows up rough will, Boo had her antennaes primed at all times for ticklish situations. Those antennae were a necessary trailer park survival skill. Boo saw right away what was happening and came on over to test my temperature, and to talk me down off the ledge if it became necessary. Her voice sounded loud, even in the loud room, “How y’all doing over here, Dale? You mind if I sit?”

“Nah, Boo. I don’t mind.”

”I see you got your eye glued to that mirror, see something interestin’ in there?”

“You know what I’m lookin’ at.”

”She looks good, don’t she? Almost happy.”

”Almost.”

”Whach’a gonna do?”

”Ain’t decided yet.” Boo downed my beer in a swig, ever-ready for a freebie, so I motioned to the bartender for two more.

”You gonna kill him?”

”Don’t know. Ain’t decided.” They were smashed into the same side of a booth now, her on the outside but scrooched over against him.

”Hmmm.” Boo got quiet then, which was not her nature. She turned on her stool so that she faced the dance floor and them, her bottle’s long neck kept close to her mouth. Habit, I guessed. “You know, he don’t look like all that to me.”

”Turn around Boo,” I asked. “I’d rather they didn’t know I was here.”

She spun around on her stool like a kid in an ice cream shop. “Dale Colby! Do you for one minute think she don’t know you’re sitting here?”

“I’m sure that she doesn’t know, but she will if you holler out my name again!”

”Well, you Colby’s always was a tad slow.” Her eyes grew excited. “You want me to show you something?”

“Sure, I guess.”

Boo grabbed hold of my knee then, spinning me around until I faced her. She hopped off of her stool, wedged herself between my legs, grabbed me with both hands by the shirt collars and laid one on me; a hard, almost violent kiss that smashed so hard against my lips

that it hurt in some wild, unexpected, exciting kind of painful way.

What came next was even more unexpected, at least for me it was. Boo was snatched from my legs, and hurled onto the dance floor. They were rolling down there together then in a snatch of hair, and teeth, and tops. It was shocking in it’s fury and violence and sexuality. Raini was angry and determined, but she was no match for Boo, who’d spent her life fending off the attacks of grown men, and so had little trouble with Raini’s like. She soon had Raini pinned on her back on the parquet dance floor. Raini’s tiny skirt was hiked up around her waist, revealing very little in the way of panties, while one of Boo’s boobs hung pertly from under her bra-less top. Boo was bleeding from a lip, but was smiling tauntingly down at the helpless Raini. Raini spat up at her, landing it on Boo’s cheek, but Boo only reached for it with her tongue as if to lap it off.

I caught hold of Boo then, but she refused to let go, so I lifted them both back to their booted feet while prying them stiffly apart. Her hands free, Raini pulled her skirt back down where it belonged, but Boo seemed unconcerned with her exhibitionism. I yanked them both by the upper arms from the dance floor. The crowd parted in front of us as I pulled them towards the door.

Once outside Boo fixed her top. Raini walked stiffly to my truck, letting herself in on the passenger side.

”Did you really think she didn’t know you were in there? Damn Dale, you’re an idiot!”

I shrugged helplessly and started for my truck. “Thanks Boo, I owe you one.”

“Forget about it, Babe! And thanks for the beer.”

Boo always did have a knack for making a guy feel inadequate.