Blurring

I texted C. to find out
if it was true about M.
She texted that it was.
I asked if M. was ok. As good
as she was going to get, she said.
C. and I were meeting that night
in downtown to get some drinks.
I always thought she was amazingly
beautiful, the kind of beauty
you couldn't help but think about
over and over. There was never
any real chance for the two of us
to go beyond our established norm
and that was fine. I loved her company.
We ended up meeting an hour later
than we had planned but given
the circumstances, understandable.
I told her I would be sitting out back
when she arrived.

She set her purse on the table.
Are you ok, I asked.
Yeah, she said as she reached
for my pack of cigarettes.
I pulled out my lighter
and flicked it to life,
just below the tip.
C. and M. were very close,
they were family.
M.'s life was inversely
proportional to her beauty.
She was never content until
the candles were a melted
waxy mess.

I don't know what else I can do
about her. I love her so much
but she keeps doing this.
I worry but I don't know if I can
keep this up. It's exhausting.

She looked away and took
a long drag and held it in.
I told her I'd be right back,
that I was going to get us
some drinks.

As I waited for the bartender
to bring me my pint of beer
and her whiskey coke (her drink
of choice), I thought about
all the times I had been around M.
I first met her at a birthday party
for C. a number of years back.
She wore fishnet stockings
that rode up under a clinging
leopard print dress.
We both got drunk that night
and chatted away.
I was smitten. I asked
for her number, she gave it.

I took the drinks back to our table.
C. was fidgeting with her phone.
Any new news, I said.
No, she said.
We held our drinks and I said,
to better days.

M. and I eventually wound up
going out not too long after.
I remember picking her up
from her apartment
and seeing her walk out
in a beautiful mod dress.
I had never had a woman
carry herself with such determined
confidence. She would tell me
soon after that she was not ready
to date anyone so soon after a breakup.
It may have been true
but I think it was her way
of rejecting me without having
to be unkind. In any case,
I appreciated the lie.

After a few more drinks
and a few more hours
C. asked me,
do you think M. will be ok?
I mean, not just after this,
but in the long run,
do you think she'll be fine?

I looked at her, too drunk
to be anything but honest.
I don't know
but I hope so, I said.
I hope so.