The wild blond hair was gone, replaced by a burgundy bob that was so dark it looked purple.
My heart raced.
I was scared that staring too long might make her glance up. But I also couldn’t look away. Part of me wanted to run. To go back down the stairs. To grab Eric and get out.
But I couldn’t move.
I watched her laugh as she mixed drinks.
I admired how womanly and feminine she looked.
Her body was tight as ever. Her shirt was cut to show it. She had added a rather intricate tattoo down the entire length of her right arm – a sleeve of roses, plants, and trees.
On her wrist was a turquoise bracelet.
***
Henri looked bright and full of life.
She poured three liquor bottles into a single shaker, mixed it, and emptied the concoction into several shot glasses. The people at the bar seemed to know her. Henri toasted with them and they all drank.
She walked to another spot and leaned across to kiss a strong-looking black guy. He was clean-cut and dressed sharp.
My heart deflated.
I again wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
Before I found the courage to, our eyes met. Hers flickered rapidly between hot and cold.
I smiled.
She smiled back. At first, it was the kind of look you give a stranger out of courtesy. Then her face brightened. Her eyes too. She pursed her puffy lips to one side and shook her head. It wasn’t lusty. It wasn’t the kind of look that begged me to rush forward. It wasn’t the look I wanted to see. Only the look of an old friend.
The guy she had kissed noticed it.
He turned around and seemed annoyed.
***
I started pushing my way through the crowd, toward the bar.
Henri got my attention and put two fingers to her mouth, mimicking a person smoking a cigarette. She raised her eyebrows to show it was a question. I nodded and she pointed toward the front of the club.
She went over to the other bartender and said something into his ear. He didn’t seem to hear her over the music, and she again made the smoking motion.
As Henri walked out from behind the bar, the guy she’d kissed reached over and grabbed her arm.
She gave him a dirty look.
Henri pulled her arm free and disappeared through a door marked Employees Only.
The crowd had somehow become even thicker. It felt like I would never get through.
I ran right into a guy. His drink went all over his shirt. I started to say something, but I didn’t really care and kept moving.
Finally, I forced my way onto the street.
The club was on Santa Clara Avenue – the main drag of downtown San Jose. The street was packed with cruising cars. The sidewalks were just as full. The sound of the metal band playing upstairs mixed harshly with the various hip-hop beats emanating from at least a dozen different car stereos.
The club’s bouncer sat on a stool and checked IDs. The guy must have weighed three-hundred pounds. He had a tough, squishy face.
I lit a cigarette and stood with the bottom of one foot propped against the wall.
A thick Latina walked by, holding one arm in the air and yelling to a group of guys in a suburban.
They hollered back and honked.
***
Henri came out of a door marked Deliveries.
She smiled and opened her arms when she got close.
“Hey stranger!” she said, wrapping me around the neck.
Her body felt exactly as I remembered.
I leaned in and smelled her hair.
The hug lasted a long time. A lot longer than I’d expected.
She stepped back and I breathed her in. Her blue eyes sparkled against what I could now see were purple highlights.
The streetlights made her lips look like ripe plums.
I smiled.
She smiled back.
She turned away and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket.
I laughed.
“I know, I know,” she said and rolled her eyes. “But only when I’m at work. Well, usually. Or if I’m drunk. Something to do, I guess.”
There wasn’t anything I could think to say.
We stood there.
A homeless guy stumbled by, telling no one in particular to watch out for the orange peels. He looked at Henri and she smiled politely. He moved on.
“Well, tell me how you’re doing!” she said.
“I’m good . . . I guess. I’m alive.”
“I’m good, I guess?” she repeated. “I haven’t seen you in three years, and that’s all you have to say?”
She punched me playfully in the arm.
“How’s Eric? How’s your mom?”
“Everyone’s good. Eric and I live together. He’s here, actually. Mom is OK. Still working at the diner. She met some guy too. Seems pretty serious. I don’t know, he’s cool, I guess. I’ve been working construction.”
My life is so empty.
“I like the hair,” I said. “And the tats.”
Holding the cigarette, Henri ran her hand down the length of her arm. She paused when she reached the bracelet on her wrist.
“Thanks, Nick.”
I wanted to kiss her.
She looked down at her cigarette.
“Almost time to get back. It’s crazy tonight. It was good to see you, though. Really good.”
She crushed her cigarette on the ground and put her arms around me again. I squeezed her tight and put my hand on the back of her head, pulling it into my chest.
It was another long hug, and this time letting go hurt.
It made me feel like I was back in that motel room in L.A.
When Henri pulled back her face, I could see she was feeling something too.
“Can I see you again?” I asked. The street noise made it hard to sound sincere.
I thought she hadn’t heard me, and I started to ask again. She held up a hand, the one with the bracelet. Her face stared off at some point in space that only she could see.
I let her search.
She peeked over my shoulder at the big bouncer.
She pulled out a pen and quickly scribbled on the inside of my hand.
She mouthed the words, “Call me.”
I nodded and winked sarcastically.
She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“You take care of yourself, sir.”
***
I was shaky as I lit another cigarette.
I had no idea what was going through Henri’s head.
Or mine, really.
Part of me wanted to wash her number off my hand. Most of me wanted to go back upstairs, punch her man in the face, jump across the bar, and kiss her. One big passionate embrace that would make up for three years of missed opportunity.
I ended up staying and got blackout drunk.
Somehow, I managed not to go back upstairs.