The neat thing about the internet is you can publish something that no publisher would touch,  In the last year I have gotten back to writing; something I used to do a lot before the "net" came along.  Thus, I have (actually still am) written a novelette.  And since I am altruistic (and I really really DO want someone to read it) I'll publish it here.

You can comment but remember, I am fragile:

If you tell yourself something long enough, it becomes true.   When you tell someone you love the same thing, just once, they will believe it in their heart, without question or reservation.  It’s a matter of perspective.

It may not even be malicious.  In fact, it may be altruistic in many aspects.  After all, what can a small piece of information, minute really, do to a loving relationship?

1.

It was just a bar in a no name, urban center.  Every city has those.  A narrow bar where people who work in the area go after 5 to unwind, surrounded by multi-floor concrete cookie cutter office buildings.  Between the two martini lunch crowd and the after work crowd, there are just a few people.  They are hiding in booths, where the high padded backs shield them from anyone who may wander in.  They may be hiding from a boss,  they may be meeting that illicit affair…or they may be hiding from themselves.

That would be me.  Over here, at the bar, the one with the Manhattan slowly twirling the cherry in the bottom.  Staring down at the amber liquid, watching the bubbles come and go around the ice cube.

Every few minutes the bartender would come and ask if things were alright, even though the glass was still half full.  I like attentive bartenders.  Especially bartenders with dark hair and sexy smiles.  I liked this bartender.  Well everything except his hands…his left hand specifically and the silver band on his finger.  Mostly he stayed over at the end of the bar, polishing glasses that looked clean from where I sat anyway.

I wasn’t alone, a man in a grey business suit sat in one of the booths, writing on a pad and checking his smart phone.  Gin…Gin and tonic.  I had nothing better to do than listen to his order. 

A giggling couple, sat two booths away from him, nuzzling on occasion and speaking softly to each other.  They were white wine all the way.

“Doing alright?”

I was staring at the glass and it took a second to register that the bartender was checking again.  I looked up and smiled.

“Another, in a few minutes, if you would.” I said

“You got it” he tapped the bar in front of me and walked away.  I watched him walk down the bar…if it wasn’t for that damn left hand I would…

Would what? I asked myself.  I would stare at his ass, just like I was doing now and order a drink.  I had to face it, I wasn’t one to come on to anybody.  And it must show, considering I was alone,

at a bar,

downtown,

drinking a Manhattan, at….

I looked up at the clock…3:30 in the afternoon.

A cell phone rang.  One of those silly videogame melodies that everyone has.  Mister Business suit answered, loudly, “Hey, Bud, how ya doin’?  Can we meet about the account in say 30 minutes…”  I quickly lost interest and besides my new drink was there now staring me in the face, daring me to wrap my red lips around the rim. 

I shook my head.  Am I that desperate?  I downed what was left in the first glass.

“Easy there, sugar.” The bartender chided me.  “That will go straight to your head.”  He pushed the new glass closer to me and took the empty away.  “Let me know if you want more.”

More, what?  I had no idea what I wanted, but “more” sounded good.  More money, more time, more…love.  Even a little love would be good.  Sometimes a little can be more if you have nothing to start with.  Yeah I wanted “more”.

I always wanted more.  And after 45 years I got what I wanted, but at a price.  I lost the “American dream” to get the dream I wanted.  And now here I was, ten years “out”, two years post surgery, drinking alone in a bar.

Oh, that’s right I didn’t tell you did I?  I am post-op transsexual.  Fully a woman in every way.  Well, ways that count.  All the parts in all the right places.   And alone.  So it didn’t fix everything.  I still had my job, but with less respect now.  I had my home and my car.  I want for nothing, material.  I have money.  But companionship and love, they aren’t on my list of haves.   Friday afternoon, 3:37 now and alone.

I stared at the glass.

“Mind if I sit here?” a voice wafted into my head.  It could not be talking to me.  Maybe they are asking the bartender.

“Excuse me,” a soft touch on my shoulder made me look up, “is it OK if I sit here?”

There were 12 seats at the bar; I was the only one sitting there.

“um….” I stalled.  I couldn’t see his face well as the light from outside was behind him and made him a silhouette.  Aw, what the hell.  Maybe he’s lonely too and needs someone to talk to.  “Sure, help yourself.”

He sat down and turned the chair toward me and he offered his right hand.

“I’m Thomas Hughes.” He said.

I gave him my hand and replied “I’m…”

“sitting alone.” He offered.  “Beautiful women should never be alone.  No one should drink alone.” I could see him better now that he was sitting next to me.  He could have been anyone of the hundreds of businessmen in this neighborhood.  Suit, and tie, all business.  But his smile set him apart

I looked down and giggled. 

“You’re right Thomas…” I started..

“Tom…or Trey.  Thomas was my grandfather.  May he rest in peace, the old codger.   Thank God I didn’t get called Junior like my dad” The bartender had made his way over and waited for Tom…Trey…whatever, to order. “Something tall cold and full of whiskey”

The bartender smiled back…”Like your ex-wife?” 

They both laughed

“How ya been  Mike?” Tom asked.

“Good, Trey.  You?”

“Great, looking forward to the weekend.” Tom turned to me, “and keep the lady happy will ya.  My tab.”

“Sure thing, Bro.”  and Mike walked off to get the drink.

“So you were about to tell me your name.  It has to start with Princess I’m sure.” He turned to face me.

“I wish.” I giggled. “No, Cinderella before the ball would be closer.  I’m Susan March,   Susan.”

“Nice to meet you, Susan March Susan.” he laughed a little.  “What’s a nice girl like you doin in a joint like this?”

“I was drinking and who says I’m a nice girl?”

“It’s obvious,” he stated, “You have that nice girl look.”

“That’s probably why I am alone then.” I told him, “Nice girls don’t get asked out.”

“OK, let’s change that rule, Miss March,….Miss March, you could be a centerfold…  how about dinner?”

“We just met.” I chided, “I know nothing about you.”

“What’s to know?” he asked, “I’m handsome, suave, debonair, filthy rich and I have a car.  A 1972 Pinto with a new door, but a car at any rate.”

“Oh…classy.  I was just thinking I would like to ride in a Pinto with a red door.”

“Ah, damn.” He looked dejected, “mine has a green door.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  I almost sprayed whiskey on him.

“That can work, but” I said, “Let’s talk…Tom…I mean Trey.”

He held up his glass and we clinked them together.

“OK, let’s talk.” He said, “I told you about me.  How about you?”

“I don’t have a Pinto.  I have a Prius…it’s a hybrid though.”

“Well, I dunno, tree hugger, probably left wing and I’m a born again Republican.” He turned back to face the bar. “It would never work out. “

I sat there stunned.  He had seemed so nice and then he turned cold on me?

He sipped his drink and looked in that bar mirror.

“Oh what the hell,. I’ll convert.” He smiled.  “Oh, did I tell you I’m Prince Charming, Cinderella?”

He had been teasing and I had fallen for it totally.

“I lied; I am very middle of the road.  I do have a Pinto though.” He told me, “and I am very smitten with you right now.  How is it, really, that you are sitting here alone on Friday afternoon when you should be getting ready for a date?”

“There are things…” I said.

“Bah, nothing worth being alone I am sure.  There’s something about you that intrigues me.”

I almost said “Yeah, I was a dude, dude.” But I didn’t.  I said “Maybe it’s my cologne.”

“Naw…something else.  You sure you’re not a Princess?”

“Positive or my parents lied about the inheritance.”

“I know! Those eyes.  Those deep blue eyes.  They make me want to just melt into you..”

I blushed.  He was smooth I admit and every second made me want to be with him even more.

“Susan…” he started, “No that’s like talking to my sister.” He pondered for a minute “and Susie sounds like a teenager.  You’re not my sister are you?”

“Not that I know of but if your father was a mail carrier….” I teased him.

“Only for a few weeks, then he started an investment company.  Funny how you can parlay civil service wages into a vast fortune.”

Now I was intrigued.  Was he being honest?  He lied about the Pinto, I think.

“No, Princess works.” He grinned. “Can I call you Princess?”

“Sure,” I said,  “Trey and Princess…sitting in a tree…”

“K I S S I N G…” he finished, “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Kiss you?”

“Here?  Now?  We just met.” I stammered.

“OK, maybe later, like Monday morning when we get back from New York?”

“I don’t remember anything about New York.” I told him.

“It was implied, remember dinner?  You said yes, I didn’t say where.”

“I was thinking Olive Garden.”

“There is a nice one in Times Square. “

“Really?  How would you know that?”

“It’s a few blocks from the Manhattan office.”

“Wait, you aren’t kidding are you?”

“Totally honest.” He looked at me seriously.

“New York?” I mused, “but we will never get a flight there in time for dinner.”

“OK, then, tonight we dine down the street.  Nice little bistro.  You like French food?”

“I like French Fries.”

“Such an innocent.” He took my hand and kissed it, “Tomorrow, I will make a reservations for this…Olive Garden you desire.  We can take my plane.”

“Plane?”

“Of course, Princesses don’t fly coach, honey.  Now drink up and let’s go eat.  I’m starved.”

2

“Bon Jour, Monsieur Hughes.” The man at the bistro greeted us. “I will have a table in a few minutes, if you would wait at the bar?”

“Seems you and I are destined to be together at a bar.” Trey teased, “Very good Antoine.  And please, may we have some pommes frites?”

Antoine looked at Trey like he had two heads. 

“You kiddin me Hughes…you want French fries?” he asked, the pretentious French accent gone.

“I am, Antoine.  The lady and I will have a bottle of Château Pichon-Longueville Comtesse de Lalande and a plate of Brie de Melun.”

Very well monsieur.” He bowed, “If you will but follow me.”  He looked at me and said “Madame looks lovely”

As we walked to the bar area , Trey answered him “She is, ain’t she?  I can’t believe someone didn’t snatch her up before.”

We sat at a small table and Antoine brought over the bottle of wine, pouring just a sip into Trey’s glass.

“That’s it?” he stormed, “I ordered the whole bottle!” Then he gave me a wink.  It was an old joke, I know, but it made me smile.  He tasted the wine and approved so Antoine filled two glasses.  Trey held his up to me.

“To the Princess, may she never sit alone at a bar on Friday again.”

We touched glasses.

“You making a permanent offer?” I asked coyly.

“Are you accepting?” he countered.  “So, who are you Princess?”

“Long story and some may not be what you want to hear.” I said staring at the crimson fluid in the glass.  It reflected the lights and made a beautiful pattern.

“Then, who are you…now?” he asked.

“At this moment, I am a fairytale Princess hoping the clock doesn’t strike 12.”

“I can stop time for you.” He smiled.

“Well then, I’m just a woman…” I stopped wondering if I should divulge now or wait…I waited, “who goes to work everyday.  I am in sales.”

“I’ll take two… wait, maybe I can’t afford two.” He said, “Can you show me what you have?”

I stopped and looked at him trying to decide exactly what that meant.

“I could but it’s the weekend, I don’t work weekends.”

“Fair enough, add that to Monday’s list of things to do.  Right after I kiss you good morning.”

“Trey…” I started, “What if there isn’t a Monday?”

“Has to be.  It’s on my calendar.  And so far the calendar has never been wrong.”  He sipped his wine and leaned into me, “There will be a Monday. I will promise you that.”

“But there are things…”I started again.

“I’m sure there are, and they won’t change anything I promise.”

So that’s when the lie really started.  He saw a Princess, I felt like a Princess. It was all a matter of perspective