DUTCH COURAGE

She is there. I am looking at her through the gaps between the bodies of drinkers. She looks lost…alone.
I drink back my double Jamesons and attempt to make my way towards her. I freeze, turn and order another double.
“Ice?”
“No ice”
She seems uneasy. She looks at her watch. I gulp down half of my drink.
She fumbles inside her handbag and brings out a mobile phone, checks it, then returns it to her handbag. I check mine. No signal.
I finish my Jamesons…and order another.
A man speaks to her. I feel my neck hairs prickle. She dismisses him with a hand wave and gentle shake of her head.
I should go over there. But not yet. I sip my whiskey.
She walks towards the door. Is she leaving? I drain my glass but then notice she has sat down on one of the armchairs.
I order one more double and drink half of it down.
A man turns and succeeds in not only knocking my drink out of my hand but also in spilling his Guinness down my white shirt. He apologises. I say, it’s ok. I button my jacket closed, covering the brown stains. He buys me a double. I down it in one.
It is time. I walk a little unsteadily towards her.
The door opens and a man walks into the bar.
I am circumnavigating the other patrons but I am getting nearer. So is the man.
I quicken my pace, clipping a young waitress and almost sending her spinning.
The man is approaching the woman. She smiles and stands as if to greet him.
I realize I am staggering.
They kiss. I trip…and fall…and land on my back at their feet.
They give me a look of disdain. Then they leave together.