“Civil engineering.”
“Wow, nice. I’d always wished I’d had the brain for a STEM degree. Decent job security and good money.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she told me, “but who knows how it’ll really turn out. What about you? What line of work are you in? Or, what degree are you going for, if you’re still in school?”
“Not in school.” I shook my head. “Never was, actually, and I have no plans. I’m a musician, actually. Yes, a starving musician, the stereotype holds.”
She looked me up and down. “Don’t look starving to me.”
“I guess you can thank my ex for that,” I told her. “She had the money. She kept me well-fed. I was the heart in the relationship, she was the function.”
“And that’s what killed it, I take it?” she asked.
“Pretty much. Eventually someone working at a big fancy corporation making ridiculous amounts of money isn't going to have interest in a failing musician, no matter how creative and loving she may be.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be,” I said, trying to play it off. “I’m really looking for a change of scenery. And I’m excited to be a little more independent. Where my ex and I used to live, there was no opportunity to do street performance and earn a little cash.”
“Is that how you make money, street performance?” she asked.
“Oh, that and other things. I plan to start offering guitar lessons pretty soon here, and I’d love to get a paying gig now and then. But, honestly, street performance is a love of mine. I love the bare-naked interaction you get with other people, you know? It’s just so raw and real. If I could get paid to do that for the rest of my life and just make enough money to get by, I’d be happy.”
She nodded, seeming to take all this information in slowly.
“I really admire that,” she finally said. “I’ve never been the kind of person who’s comfortable without security. I’m not really one to want a lot of money or luxury in life, so I’d be fine just getting by and paying my bills, but the uncertainty of it all would drive me crazy.”
I smiled. Usually, when I talked about my career ambitions or lack thereof, I felt like people were judging me. She seemed to genuinely appreciate my point of view. It was a nice change of pace.
“It certainly isn’t for everyone, but I’ve always been naturally spontaneous. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but something about a scheduled and certain life bores me to death.”
She laughed. “I’d bore you to death, then. Everything about my life is scheduled and certain.”
I looked at the way her mouth wrinkled softly in the corners as she smiled, and I was in awe of just how beautiful she was.
“I don’t think you could ever bore me,” I said, rather boldly.
She started to blush and smile but didn't say anything in return.
“Hey, I was going to order a shot, do you want one?” I asked her.
She paused, thinking on this for a moment. “Well… yeah, sure, that sounds good.”
“Perfect,” I said, trying to hide my enthusiasm. When I flirted so boldly like this, I really preferred to play it cool, to a degree.
I was about to wave over the bartender, who was out on the floor wiping off tables, when Emily’s phone vibrated. I glanced over at her and watched her read a text message. I knew it wasn’t good news for me when her face fell.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry… I can’t take that shot, I actually have to go.”
“Really? Right now?” I asked, hoping she could stay at least a few more minutes.
“Yeah, right now, sorry. Emergency with my roommate. But it’s been lovely chatting with you!” she said, as she grabbed her keys and stood up from the bar counter.
“Right, yeah, nice talking with you, too.” I nodded at her as she started to walk out of the bar. “Have a good one!”
“You, too!” she hollered back, as she left out the front door.
The second she did, disappointment and regret washed over me.