She ordered a vodka and cranberry; I stuck with Grand Marnier. Sam delivered both a minute later. Carolyn lifted her drink and sipped at the straw with her eyes closed, giving me the opportunity to view her more closely. She had a single piercing in each ear, and chapped lips so that tiny bits of skin hung raggedly, waiting to be picked away. She didn’t look a day over twenty. There was a small hole the size of a dime in the pit of her sweater; had the sweater not been black, and her undershirt white, I doubt I would have noticed. I looked away then, hoping to stay oblivious to any other imperfections I might find. Furthermore, I wanted to protect myself from asking questions to which the answers might bother me, because, truth be told, I really did like her.
“So what do you do here?” I asked.
“I work at Starbucks.”
“No kidding. Where? I’m at one coffeehouse or another nearly every day.”
“In Bucktown.”
I shook my head. “No idea where that is, either.”
“West of here, off the Blue Line. Next to Wicker Park. Do you know that area?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“So what do you do?” she asked.
“Well, I’m supposedly an editor, though the title is a bit of a stretch. I’m actually trying to be a writer, working on a novel right now, which is why I’m always in cafés.”
She perked up. “Oh yeah? That’s really neat.”
I looked down at Gene. The stool beside mine had just opened.
“Would you like to join us at the other end of the bar? We’d love the company,” I asked, holding my breath against possible rejection.
“Sure,” she said with a shrug, and at the moment I felt like pumping my fist in the air in celebration. I worked hard to suppress a smile as Carolyn gathered herself and stood. She was three or four inches shorter than me, and now that I could see all of her, she appeared a little unkempt, had a somewhat dirty quality to her, but in a naive way as though a subject as mundane as wardrobe selection was something she never thought to consider. I found her even more attractive by virtue of this innocence, or rather, what I perceived to be innocence.
We sat beside Gene and he shook Carolyn’s hand. He bought another round though we each held full drinks. Seeing this, Sam gave us two wooden tokens we could exchange when ready. Then Gene stood and said it was time for him to leave.
“This one has gotten me drunk tonight,” he said, gripping my shoulder. “But it was a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps I’ll see you again.” He shook her hand a second time, clapped me on the back, then turned and pushed through the door and was gone.
“He didn’t leave because of me, did he?”