She said she didn't need a relationship. Hadn't had one for nearly 10 years. Oh, she has friends, they get together and party and drink and play dress-up, but a committed relationship with a man? Not for her.
She was finishing her second martini. Early fifties, big laugh, flashy silver jewelry, neither attractive nor unattractive.
She's had relationships, just never managed to make one last more than a couple of years, and she's sure that she could never have a lifetime relationship, even at this stage of life. “I'm too high maintenance, I know what I want and I know how I want it done.”
She worked her way down the row of olives on a long cocktail skewer. “I've had a same-sex relationship once or twice. But they were just sex, you know, friendships but not really relationships.”
“Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have somebody come along and take care of me. I've always had to get my own car fixed and figure out the taxes and pay the bills. When I had my son I was a single parent, so I had to do everything – buy his clothes, get him to school, get him to the doctor – everything.”
She finished her martini and motioned for another.
“I had a relationship that could have worked,” she said. Her eyes began to glisten in the dim light. “He was younger – nearly ten years younger than I was, but it was good. It could have lasted, but then my son died – he was just 18 and I went someplace else, I just went into another mode.”
Her voice quavered and she took a quick sip of her fresh drink and composed herself. “He said he could handle it, but he couldn't. I don't blame him; I couldn't handle it. It's not the way life's supposed to work.”
She touched a cocktail napkin to her nose and smiled, fighting a losing battle with her tears.
“Anyway, I just don't make myself available for relationships right now. Men can sense that I wouldn't be receptive, so they don't even try.” She shook her head and took a big drink. Her mouth came away from her glass smiling.
“But I'm okay, I have lots of women friends, and I have family. I like being near family. My mother's going to come stay with me awhile – she's 75 and we still get along great. She got divorced when I was young and hasn't been in a relationship since then. My father was abusive and she didn't put up with that. She divorced him."
"I used to ask her why she didn't go out, go down to the bowling alley like the other mothers did, but she said she had enough foolishness taking care of us. But she used to sit up late reading. She'd read those romance novels, she loved romances.”
Her eyes were shiny again. “I've got to go smoke a cigarette,” she said. She picked up her coat and her purse and told the bartender to keep her tab open, she'd be back after awhile.
Then she looked at me and said, “Maybe you'll be here when I come back, maybe you won't.”
I wasn't.
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