I sat at the bar by myself.
I hadn’t ever done it before. I was alone in the tavern, trying to look as if I was comfortable with my elbows awkwardly resting over the lip to the thick, sticky bar.
The bartender tossed his towel over his shoulder and leaned toward me.
“What can I get you?”
“Pinot Grigio.”
I always get Pinot Grigio.
He brought my glass without much fanfare and set it down.
“Anyone joining you?”
I laughed out loud in my mind, but instead I blurted, “My divorce was just finalized.”
As I said the words, a thousand thoughts raced through my head. I had wondered how the moment would feel, hoped there would be more relief than sadness, imagined being excited rather than dreading what my life would be like. I was a thirty year old, single mom. Holy shit.
I felt every feeling.
I must have been saying everything out loud without even realizing it, and when I snapped out of it, the poor bartender was just standing there looking at me, like he wanted to be sad for me but couldn’t help laughing.
What the hell had I told him?
Damned wine.
Whatever it was, I had blabbed more than I probably should have over glass number two.
I decided to finish up my very cliched, post divorce bar scene and thanked the “keep” for listening.
“You’re going to be fine.” He said. “You’re a funny girl.”
Hmph.
I hopped off the stool and headed out. I immediately tripped on the cobble stone street, but recovered before completely face planting. My life was mine to live. Decisions were mine to make.
I looked up and noticed the sign right away.
‘TATTOOS.’
...
