You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This

The music echoed around her with a haunting familiarity. A sharp pang of nostalgia hit, followed by bigger waves of sadness and regret. “My song”, she thought, nearly whispering the words aloud, “well, really, his song.” After all, he had been the one to choose it on that windy, snow filled night nearly four years earlier.

The bar was quite full as Cora stepped into the midst of her liquor filled sanctuary. She had been walking on this old hardwood floor for years. It was littered with peanut shells and used up paper napkins, once white and now covered in rib sauce. The faint trace of lemon scented wood polish and spicy flavored seasonings hung in the air. Making her way over to the usual table, Cora felt eyes upon her, yet denied herself the satisfaction she knew would come if she turned around.

She wasn’t naïve enough to have not guessed the reason this song was now playing in what had finally become a safe haven for her. It was because he was here. Braden had come back. For the past few months, Cora had spent her lonely nights here in this bar, not where they had originally met (that is a whole other story) but where Braden had taken her on their first date.

A small hole in the wall, on the first floor of a rundown hotel, smack in the center of Gaven Street, Andy’s was known primarily, and rightly so, for its ribs. Braden, being a huge fan of ribs himself, had brought Cora hoping to impress her, if not with the atmosphere, than definitely with the food. Cora was a vegetarian. Not as strict as most, yet she would rather jump off a bridge into freezing cold water than touch a rib or piece of steak.

Despite her lack of interest in Braden’s food choices, Cora begged him to take her to the bar nearly every other weekend for the next three years of their relationship. She had fallen in love with the feeling of relaxation she felt when she entered Andy’s at the end of a long day. Moving to the back of the room towards a round table in a far corner, she would remove her jacket, slip off her shoes, and settle into the cushioned bench. Sipping her usual cherry soda (without the cherries which she removed and placed on her napkin for later) Cora would watch the people around her as she waited for Braden’s subway train to arrive.

Fifteen minutes later he would walk in, letting a short draft of the frigid air inside with him as he opened the door. Quickly shaking hands with the bartender and ordering his usual light beer, Braden would make hurried but polite conversation with the owner and upon the arrival of his drink stride to the back of bar to find his girlfriend waiting patiently. He too would remove his jacket and slide into the booth next to her, never across, and lay one arm around her while kissing her forehead. He would stretch out his legs put down his glass and turn his attention to Cora asking about her day, and her job, and her students. He listened attentively, enchanted by her voice and the small delicate motions she made with her hands as she talked. Sometimes Braden would talk just as animatedly to her, but he preferred her stories and sparkling chatter on most nights. And sometimes neither one of them would talk at all. Cora would lay her head on his shoulder and slowly sip the wine he ordered her as he sat holding her hands in his lap and silently watching whatever game was blaring from the many small televisions hanging about the tavern. Countless nights had been spent in these ways; Cora and Braden together.

Right before they would leave Braden would leave a few dollars tip while Cora cleaned up the scraps of whatever they had ordered for dinner, placing them at the edge of the table. She would then accept Braden’s help with her coat and present him with her napkin full of cherries on miniature swords from all of her evening’s sodas. He would smile, put them in his inside pocket and save them for his walk home.