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Alpha Bar was loud and crowded, boisterous as always on a Friday night, but there was one person who did not appear to be enjoying herself at all.
Jane Crocker sat at the counter and stared at the drink in front of her. She couldn’t remember what it was. She couldn’t really think much at all.
Getting dumped sucked. Getting dumped with no forewarning, when you thought things were pretty okay, sucked. Getting told you were being cut to part-time at your job that was awful anyway sucked. Getting dumped with no forewarning when you thought things were going pretty well on the same day as getting told you were being cut to part-time at your job that was awful anyway really, really, really sucked.
Can this day get any worse? Jane thought morosely, contemplating how weird she would look if she just lay down on the floor and stayed there forever, and whether it was worth it anyway. Could it possibly get worse? No, don’t think that. If you do, then you’ll get home and your house will be broken into, or it’ll be on fire, or you’ll get kidnapped by a serial killer, or the taxi will crash on the way home, or –
“Can I get you a refill on that?” A bright voice interrupted Jane’s morbid thoughts. She looked up.
The bartender was perhaps the skinniest person Jane had ever seen, bony almost to the point of unattractiveness, but somehow still beautiful in a strange, skeletal way. She had white-blond hair and really weird eyes that looked almost pink in the dim light of the bar.
“Uh,” Jane said intelligently. What the heck. Why not. “Sure.”
“What did you have?” the girl asked.
Jane frowned. “Actually, I have no idea.”
Pink-Eyes laughed. “I’ll just get you my favorite, then!” And then she was gone, weaving between the other bartenders in the cramped space and pulling an assortment of brightly colored bottles off the shelves.
That was kind of weird, Jane thought. She was kind of weird. Oh well. I could use some nice weird in my life.
Moments later, the bartender was back, carrying two martini glasses filled with something so violently pink that ordinarily Jane wouldn’t touch it. But today was not an ordinary day, and so she drank the thing. It was sweeter than she had expected, but with a bite.
The bartender tossed the other glass back as if it was water. “Are you really supposed to be drinking on the job?” Jane asked with a smile.
“Not really,” the girl stage-whispered. “Don’t tell anybody, ’kay?”
This said when they were surrounded by people – Jane just had to laugh. “Okay,” she said. Something about this girl just made her smile, made her feel happier than she had in a long time, happier than her job ever made her, happier even than he had made her in a very long time, even before today’s nightmare of a breakup.
The bartender’s name was Roxy. She was twenty-three (Jane’s age), had a little sister who was studying somewhere fancy to become a writer (Jane’s cousin was at Julliard for piano), she liked computers, alcohol, and cats, and the pink eyes were real.
They talked and talked. Roxy handled other patrons when they came up, but otherwise she was fixated on Jane in a way nobody had been in a long time. She listened to every word with wide rose-colored eyes, laughing or sighing or growling at precisely the right moments. She was sympathetic about Jane’s job, outraged at the boyfriend, and Jane felt more comfortable with her than she had with anybody since… since she didn’t even know when. Roxy was a missing piece that Jane hadn’t even known she was missing.
Hours passed, and suddenly Roxy looked up. “My shift’s over,” she said. “I’ve gotta go.”
Jane’s heart sank, but she tried not to let it show on her face. “Okay then,” she said brightly, but even she could hear the falseness in her voice. “I guess I’ll see you around sometime?” I hope. I hope, I wish, I want –
Roxy was staring at her pensively, rosy eyes thoughtful. “So this is probably going to sound way creepy and maybe I’ve had too much to drink, but do you want to come home with me?”
Jane stared at her.
Roxy’s face turned a very strong shade of red. “I mean, I’ve really liked talking to you, and it feels sucky to make you go home all alone after the shitty day you’ve had, and…” she smacked herself in the face. “You know what? I’m just going to shut up and go home quietly. I am so sorry, I’m such an idiot –”
“No,” Jane interrupted. “Wait. Actually… I would like to. Come with you. If – if you really meant it.”
Roxy looked up again, shining with joy. “Really?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve just met me, and I know I’m kind of weird – lot of weird, actually – and I don’t want you to feel like you have to –”
“But I want to,” Jane interrupted. “It’s strange, because I’ve only just met you, but I feel like I know you better than anyone else right now and I don’t really care if it’s a good idea or not. I like you, and if the offer still stands, I would like to come home with you tonight.”
It did still stand, and so Jane went home with a blonde bartender she had met only a few hours ago but felt like she had known for years.
***
Roxy’s apartment was tiny. She explained that her and her half-sister Rose’s mother was extremely wealthy, but neither of them got along with her and so they had both left as soon as they could. Thus the tiny apartment and bartending job at Alpha, plus freelance coding and computer nonsense during the day if she was awake and sober enough to type properly.
They talked more, and the time passed even faster than at Alpha, without the distractions of other bar patrons. When it did finally come to be bedtime, Jane took the couch despite Roxy’s protests, and fell asleep easier than she had in months in her own bed at home.
And when she woke in the morning, sunlight streaming through the dusty window and a pink-eyed girl wearing tattered shorts and a gigantic t-shirt with the ridiculous band logo almost completely worn off of it barging around in the kitchen and swearing at inanimate objects, Jane could not remember a time when she was happier.