Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow... (Excerpt from 'The New Story')

  

3

Moonlight Serenade, or: "Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow..."

 

We go back to our table after our dance. The Swinging Millers are playing their encore, Moonlight Serenade. The dance floor is nearly empty now, and most of the patrons are either sitting at their tables or getting ready to go. Maddie and I sit in silence, listening to the music. She looks gorgeous in her sky-blue dress. It contrasts nicely with her hazel eyes, which sparkle in the dim light. There's a matching jacket in her bag from Book Culture, along with some books she bought earlier. I wonder what they are, but I don't ask. I don't want to spoil the mystery.

The song ends, and the band thanks the audience for their applause. Maddie looks at her watch and sighs.

"It's late," she says. "I should get going."

"Me too," I say.

Before we go, Maddie snatches a napkin and a pen from our table, flashing me a mischievous grin. We head to the coat check, where I wrap her jacket around her shoulders and take her bag. We step out of the club and into the chilly night. The street is alive with lights and sounds. I flag down a cab for her and hold the door open. I give her the bag from Book Culture, filled with her newly purchased books. She sets it down gently in the cab, then looks at me with a smile.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," she says.

"Thank you for the dance," I say. "And for not minding my clumsy feet."

She laughs and says, "You did just fine."

She writes something on the napkin with the pen. She hands it to me with a confident flourish.

"Here's my number," she says. "Call me."

 

"I will," I say.

She smiles and leans in to kiss me softly on the cheek.

"I'm busy this weekend, but I'll be free the next," she says.

"I'll be waiting," I say.

She gets in the cab and closes the door. I watch as it drives away until it disappears into the traffic. I feel a mix of emotions: happiness, sadness, hope, fear. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know one thing: I want to see her again.

I look at the napkin in my hand and smile. I fold and tuck it carefully into my pants pocket; it might slip out of my suit’s jacket pocket if I put it there instead. Then I turn around and walk to the subway station. As I walk, I hum the tune of Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.

I can't shake off the feeling that there's something mysterious about her. Something that draws me in and makes me curious. Maybe it's just the beer, or the way she looks from certain angles, or her perfume of jasmine and orange blossom. Or maybe it's something else.

Something I can't forget.