Max was late, again. No problem. The waiter was also late with her drink. “He’s new” she thought. “Look at him, just a kid, frustrated with the barman who was serving everybody else except the tray for the boy.” She tried to catch the bartender’s eye. Nothing. He was serving a young woman with very puffy blonde hair and a nearly there skirt. The waiter was looking at the short skirt now as well.
Max used to be like that, Sara thought. Well, Max used to be many things. But no more. At least not with her. She’d see him tonight, give him what he asked for and then never see him again. Let him become a long lost memory among the forgotten.
The waiter came with an apologetic look and her bourbon, one ice lazy swimming into the golden drink. She looked at him, picked her glass and with one move she drunk it all. The she put the glass down and pushed towards the waiter who was still standing there looking at her in amazement. She tapped the table with her long nail and let him know that she was ready for another one.
“The same?” He asked shyly. Sara nodded; he said he’d be right back.
“Right,” Sara thought, “it took you nearly ten minutes to bring the first one. The bartender was chatting the blond. “No way I’m ever coming back here,” she thought. The bourbon was alright though. And the right portion, no cheating here. “What a strange choice of words,” she thought and smiled.
She looked over towards the door direction to see if Max was somewhere in sight. Nothing. Perhaps he was already there looking for her. As usual she had chosen the darkest corner to sit. Is good to have the wall on your back. That was Max’s words, not hers but they had been imprinted in her mind long time ago. “It’s my favourite place nowadays,” he had said on the phone so she was sure he would find her.
She checked her watch and adjusted her scarf. Dark blue with some invisible to first look flowers. She got it in England long time ago and she bought it because it reminded her the scarves the Queen wears. Something like a memory souvenir she could also use. They had gone for business. Max and her. That was before Inger and Jessica and Maja …and thanks god her bourbon just arrived because she was ready to leave.
Peering out into the dark window a few meters away from her table and supposedly with view to the street, she saw her reflection. Droopy eyelids, soft jaw line, dark red lips and thick black hair. From this distance she could not see the crosshatching of wriggles around her eyes and under her mouth. “Mother Nature laying games on you as you age,” she thought.
She took the little pot of lip gloss out of her purse, dipped one finger in and refreshed the colour of her mouth while looking at the door way. He was late. Where the fuck was Max? She dropped the lip gloss into the small inside pocket and before closing the purse she touched it. It burned her fingers so she snapped the purse close and looked around with fear. Nobody had noticed.
She never realised that she had it and the damn thing was in plain shih all these time. A small black box on the shelf in front of Hugo’s Les Misérables. Thick book, she never read it. One of his. Max was a weird guy and he read weird books, some of them with foreign titles.
She thought of taking out of her purse; put it there on her napkin, where Max would be sure to see it. There was nothing to say, take it and go away. That would have been the message. If there was one.
She lifted her hand to catch the waiter’s eye. She desperately needed another bourbon. Why the hell to leave something so valuable to him in her house for so long? The kid reached with another glass of bourbon one eyes, no questions necessary anymore. By now they knew each other and he was there to keep her happy. Or at least that’s what he thought hoping for a good tip.
She took a deep breath a long sip of her drink and decided that putting the little box on the table was not a good idea. She wanted Max to feel at ease. A relaxed closure. Like good old friends. There was nothing to sign after all. It was over, it was Inger, Jessica, Maja and who knows who else and that was it. The end and all lived happily ever after.
Suddenly she smiled and turned back once more to look at her reflection. What difference Inger, Jessica and Maja make now anyway? Max didn’t want her anymore and nothing else really mattered whatever the name might be and Sara was fine with it. No going back.
Thanos' Pulp Fiction 