A Night for Two

He sat at a table set for two, the smoke from the lighted cigarette in his right hand wafted around the quiet bar. There were no fruit machines, no bar stools, no television behind the bar. It was anything but a common ‘pub’, it was a place to relax with a fine wine and perhaps a book. Quiet conversation arose from it’s small corners. The hardwood floor upon which his feet rested was present throughout the bar, as well as subdued wall colours which rose to the white ceiling from where ornate lamps and lighting hung. The air around him was clouded, the smoke engulfed him, and he breathed it in complacently, his dark brown eyes staring tiredly into space. He moved the cigarette to his lips once more and inhaled the last of it, before stubbing it out into the crowded ashtray. He coughed violently while rubbing the stubble around his jaw and refilled his wine glass, leaving the second one empty, and took a sip. Upon the table also lay a packet of cigarettes, a lighter, a notepad, a pen and an opened envelope.

“Hi John.” said a cheerful, feminine voice as she walked up behind the man, carrying her coat over her arm. “Mallorie.” he replied sullenly as she smiled and walked around him and sat facing him. Placing the coat around the chair and the bag down, she poured herself a glass from the bottle. “This is harder than you think, I mean, I’ve been thinking about it all day, and during the lunch break I was lost for something to do.” she said breathlessly. “Perhaps have lunch?”, he suggested with a slight shrug and shake of the head.
“What? In the company canteen? Can’t you remember what happened last time?”
“Oh yeah, what was it…the chicken wasn’t cooked properly?”
“ At all, not cooked at all. Although they still had the courtesy to throw in a few free hairs into the sauce.” she said sarcastically while almost finishing her glass.
“Why didn’t you bring some lunch then?” he asked, arching a brow.
“I’m trying to lose weight.” she said quietly, as if she was in confession and telling the priest that she had just killed twelve nuns and blown up an orphanage. John looked at her in disgust, “Ah for God’s sake, not this crap again!”. She knew what was coming next, he acted like this every time she mentioned the notion of losing weight.
“Look, Mallorie, you don’t need to lose weight, do we have to go through this every time you go on one of these ‘diets’? They’re just fads, Atkins…” he paused for a few moments, his hand unclenched in expression and furrowing his brow, “Only eat lettuce for five weeks… I don’t know, but they’re all useless and you don’t need them.” he finished by taking another long drink. She felt good again, but compliments from John were few and far in between, she frowned, “Oh but you’re only saying that cause you’re my friend…”. She smirked through her wine glass as she drank, watching him. He set down his empty glass, “Yes…you’re my friend, probably my oldest friend, but that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you that you’re letting yourself go just to protect your feelings.” it was his turn to smirk. Mallorie smiled, and then pouted again,
“But John…”
“Don’t milk it.” he interrupted as he refilled their glasses, finishing off the bottle. With his comment, Mallorie sat back in her chair slouched and sighing, she had been on a roll.

They both sat in silence, looking around at the other customers, both with wine in hand, listening to nearby conversations, or having one with their own consciousness. A few people drifted in and out of the bar, past them. It could have been dark outside for all they knew, the area they always sat in had no windows and had dark corners, and was near the back of the building. The perfect quiet hideaway for the literature enthusiast. John’s back was to the entrance of their haven, all that was in front of him was the opposite chair and the wall. As little visual disruption was fine by him, he always wanted to read in peace. Mallorie however, could always see who passed by or went up to the bar, she often wanted to view other people’s clothes and general fashion, she was nosy by nature, and couldn’t help it.

John was oblivious to Mallorie’s various comments, he was too busy thinking to himself. “…State of her hair…” said Mallorie in a zombie-like daze as her eyes followed a woman about her own age around the room. John sighed after a while, “I’m going to get another bottle” he said, lifting the empty one. She may as well have been dead, she was too busy, her gaze analysing every piece of clothing her eyes came into contact with. John quickly sat down again, “Oh no.” he hissed, ducking his head down. Mallorie was kicked back into reality, “What? What is it?” she asked, bemusedly, “Have they ran out of wine?” she laughed at her own joke, somehow, John didn’t see the funny side, “Shut up, shhh.” he glanced behind him, “Damn, it is her.”. Mallorie was interested now, “Who?” she asked, also reducing her voice to a whisper, and making herself small, even though she didn’t know who they were hiding from. He looked over his shoulder again towards the bar, finally, he answered her, “Well, do you remember that girl I went out with? Emma?” Mallorie nodded and replied, “Yeah, I remember her.”
“Well, I sort of broke it off with her after our first date…”
“Ah, well, what’s the problem?”
“Well when I say ‘after’ I really mean ‘during’ and when I say ‘broke it off’ I mean ‘ran away’” he was the picture of guilt. Mallorie looked at him, astonished,
“How could you? I mean…that’s just…”
“Well, we went to the cinema, and during the film I made an excuse to go and use the toilet.” he paused, and felt as if he hadn’t defended himself well enough, “but you don’t know what she’s like, she has the most annoying laugh, and…”
Mallorie interrupted, “And nothing. Your problem is that you’re too picky.”. The tables had now turned, Mallorie continued to reprimand John, “I mean, that’s just one of the nastiest things I’ve heard of, just ditching her like that. You should be ashamed.” John, however, was still too preoccupied in keeping a low profile than feeling sorry for Emma. “Yeah, well, I’ll say a thousand Hail Mary’s” he whispered dismissively and continued, “Is she still there?” Mallorie nodded. “Damn…what if she’s still interested? What if she didn’t get the message?” he whispered anxiously. Mallorie smiled, “Oh well, if she didn’t, you could just say that I’m your girlfriend…” John’s face straightened and looked at her,
“ I wouldn’t let her know that I’ve done worse than her after splitting up.”
“Hmph, you done all the ‘splitting’ during that relationship.” She retorted and looked over at the bar, “Never mind, she’s gone now.”. John exhaled a deep sigh of relief and showed resentment at both of her comments. He squinted his eyes at her, and reached for his cigarettes and lighter, “So tell me…” he began, as he placed one in his mouth and lit it, and as he spoke, smoke streamed from his mouth to her face, “During lunch break earlier, you were lost for something to do? Been thinking about your ciggies all day have you? Tell me…” he exhaled more smoke from another drag, “Finding it hard to give up?” he smirked. She gave a sarcastic smile and replied,
“Thought you were getting the wine? Careful though, are you sure that you haven’t ran off from him without paying the bill once before?” she tilted her head, her eyes opening wide, expecting an answer. His smirk remained as he stood and walked to the bar, ordering more wine. While his back was turned, Mallorie quickly wafted the smoke around her and inhaled it, smiling deeply.

Some time later, they were both silent again Mallorie was viewing others and John was now scribbling furiously on the notepad. She reached for her wine glass and took a sip of air, it was empty. She sighed and got annoyed, feeling left out now that John was doing something. She watched him writing on the notepad, he was completely unaware, her eyes moved to his nearly full glass, and quickly switched it with hers. She grinned, and as her hand slid back across the table, it came in contact with the envelope. She raised a brow, and with the wine in one hand, the envelope in the other, she asked, “What’s this?” Seeing it was addressed to John. He looked up, his eyes flickered down, and then reluctantly dragged themselves back up again, “Read it.” he finally answered, before lifting ‘his’ now empty wine glass, and attempting to take a sip. While John looked bemusedly at the empty vessel, Mallorie read out the letter quietly to herself.

“Dear Mr Bennett, we regret to inform you that your novel is not suitable for us at this time, and herewith return your manuscript. We hope that you are not disheartened by this rejection.
Yours Sincerely,
Kenneth B. Hampton”

She looked sadly over the table at John, who somehow, looked smaller than he had been when hiding from Emma. She placed the letter down,
“Aw… John, I’m sorry. I read that, it was good, obviously the publisher has some sort of problem. If I were you, I’d write a firm letter back to them and…”
She was interrupted by John raising the piece of paper he had been writing on, she blinked for a few seconds and took it from him, and read it to herself as well. She raised her eyebrows as her eyes traced the sentences, John watched her as he poured the last of the wine into his glass. She cleared her throat when she reached the end of it.
“Well, ahem, it’s certainly ‘firm’, you have just seemed to underline ‘firm’ ten times and write it with huge capital letters.” She was getting a little worried for John’s sanity as she read over some of the obscenities he had scrawled on the page. He snatched it back and read it over briefly.
“Yeah…perhaps I shouldn’t have included the death threat…”
“Yeah…” she replied in a soothing tone, noticing that John was a little drunk, and she probably was too.
“I think we should go, it’s getting late…” Mallorie cautiously suggested.
“Yeah…” John replied sullenly, and began to put his items into his pockets. Mallorie’s eyes shot down and saw the piece of paper and quickly suggested, “Could you leave the wine bottles over?” and smiled at him, “Er, yeah, sure” he replied and lifted the bottles, clinking them. She quickly grabbed the letter John had written and stuffed it into her pocket discreetly. She grinned as he returned for his coat, stumbling somewhat, “C’mon, let’s get you home.” she said cheerfully, and linked their arms, turning the corner and walking towards the exit of the bar.