From the Desk of One JR Stanton

Across the street from a fenced-off park bench belonging to a defunct local Missouri wine company, Joe from work walked by. Each of the small, backless wooden bench’s occupants turned their heads to and from Joe, making furtive glances to one another and then quickly back to Joe. Out of courtesy (for one another; Joe never knew he had been perceived), each pretended Joe was interesting in that moment. It was a strange dance.

They sat, talking about everything and nothing, when he quickly turned his head to make an audible note of it. Joe’s companions—two attractive, late 20s-to-early-30s blonds and another man walked quickly ahead of him.  Joe was checking emails. 

The brewery they met at roughly four hours ago was just two blocks away. They’d taken the scenic route back to their cars. 

They went down a back alleyway, making sure to course-correct as they approached two homeless sentinels at the end of the alley. Still, they looped around to get to the gas station.

Providence was a green Sinclair Gas Station promising fried chicken, sandwiches, and gas unleaded gasoline for $3.59 a gallon. They walked walked past the sentinels, coming at them from a different angle. 

And he wondered how Joe could do that in his moment. He knew Joe wasn’t on-call.  What could be so important that it necessitates Joe remove himself from that moment with a woman who appeared to be his girlfriend. 

He stood at the front door under the gas station’s glowing green trim. He was uneasy that his date went into the gas station by herself while he waited outside with her dog. Soon, she emerged triumphantly carrying a mini-bottle of sauvignon blanc. They opened it and passed the bottle back-&-forth as they strolled through the midwestern downtown.

Then they arrived at a bench. A cheap, iron link fence roped off the benches (and the rest of an outdoor patio-top), which once belonged to the defunct Missouri winery. They decided to live dangerously.  Besides, the winery no longer needed them. They pulled the chain link over their heads while stepping under it and took a seat.  

He’d lost track of time entirely. They talked about their friends growing up and what they did day-to-day. She told him about recent stomach troubles she’d had that eventually developed into a serious issue that had hospitalized her. He talked about growing up with his mom.

“Was that an overshare?”, he asked himself. She also told him about college boyfriend’s infidelity and how she’d been in a fight with her gay roommate earlier in the day. He had accidentally let the cat outside. As he understood it, that cat is never to go outside. The why was unclear; the rule was not. 

He had been very careful since his last relationship.  Last time, his relationship soured like grapes on a vine.  And he stayed for another eight (8!) months. Sour grapes don’t age into a fine wine. 

Eventually, they’d talked enough nonsense, and he walked her to her car: a newer model Jeep. Her car was in the shop. 

“It’s been pretty fun, honestly.”, she said of the red rental. 

The two guys from the brewery were still sitting in front of it. The Jeep was a rental. She put her dog in the backseat. She had two weddings this weekend and was going to a DJ’s concert on Friday, but she was available everyday next week. 

It’s unclear how or when they’d gotten so far into each other’s space. What was clear is that this was the moment. Well, not the moment; the moment happened outside of the brewery an hour earlier. 

They pulled each other in, pulled back for a breathe and lingered. His hands moved from her hips to her low back with graceful purpose. His hands ran along her body until they reached her face and pulled her in. Some time later, the two dudes from the brewery were whooping and hollering. 

He thought about flipping them the bird, but it seemed a far worse use of his hand than what he was already doing. Her hands moved through his hair. She pulled herself closer to him—all of herself. This is the moment that keeps running through his head.

And, at some point, there was space between them again.