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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.’

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