I'm sitting at my bar, working on a crossword puzzle I do not intend on finishing. All this time and I still don't speak or read the local language. Looking over the half wall, I smile. A couple of the local "moms" came in earlier to start cooking for tonight's get together. Already I can smell the slow roasted smell of pork. I pick up my drink and swirl the ice. "Hey James."
"Hey Kid."
Indie just walked in from the front. She went into town to pick up some fruit and vegetables, and a few other things. A pack of rolling tobacco slides next to me as she sits down at the bar with me. "So is she still coming in this weekend?"
"Last I spoke to her she was."
"How you dealing with it?"
The woman she is asking about is someone I haven't seen or spoken to in 6 years. The last time I saw her, was also our last attempt at making it work out between us. She called me three weeks ago to tell me she was coming out to see me. On that last night we agreed that if the time ever presented itself we would see eachother again. At the time it was the promise two people make when the believe that they will never see each other again. I never meant for the promise to be put to the test, nor did she. When I picked up the phone I didn't know how to respond, not that it would have mattered she was coming anyways.
I take a small sip from my glass and swirl the glass, "I'm doing fine with it."
Indie gives me a small smile and a laugh, "You're so full of shit." She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes lightly before turning and heading towards the kitchen.
I open the pouch and remove a small amount of tobacco. Placing it in the center of the paper and spreading it out I start to think about times past. As I roll the cigarette, without thinking about it, I remember I didn't tell her when she called, that I didn't want her to come.