The Lonely Position of Neutral

Bittersweet like Wine

It was February 14, 2003, and I slammed shots at Franks sports bar with some friends. I was the only single in the group. We'd go out most Friday nights. And this year, Valentines' Day just happened to fall on Friday. By now, I'd hoped I'd be as happy as my friends. But I graduated from high school four years ago, and there was this girl. Her name was Alicia. I was a farmer's son. Alicia's parents had money. Lots of money. Her father was a prosecutor, and her mother headed a non-profit organization. My mother passed away last year. She refused to get vaccinated, and she found out that a deadly virus didn't care that she had faith in God. I'd pulled Dad through it the best I could, but I could use someone to pick me up.

Alicia's father used to threaten me. It was always vague, and it wasn't what he said; it was the way he said it. Anyway, I'd met Alicia pumping gas at a Shell. I wasn't even supposed to be there. I mean, I don't know how many times Dad told me not to buy cheap gas. Maybe that's why I did it. Alicia had pulled her oversized sunglasses above her head. Her auburn shoulder-length hair fell below her shoulders. I stared a little; then I looked away. I returned my eyes to her, thinking about tasting her sun-kissed skin, glistening on a September afternoon. I stared a little too long because the gas spilled onto my jeans. Oh, fuck. It looks like I pissed my pants, and now this beautiful woman's eyes were locked with mine. That's it. My life is over. I'm going to hear about this for the rest of my life because, in a small town, word travels fast. 

"So," the woman said, approaching me. "Do I know you? I mean, have we met before?"

I pulled my shirt over my pants. "You looked familiar, and--"

"You don't have to pretend you didn't spill gas on your pants while you were gawking at me." She smiled.

I scratched the back of my neck. "So, I was looking at you. And? It's a free country."

"Don't get defensive with me, mister."  The woman folded her arms and shifted her weight to her back foot. This woman wasn't new to compliments, and I didn't want to inflate the ego of an eccentric spoiled brat. She was a spoiled brat, right? Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge.

I rested my hands on my hips. "Where you from?"

"I live in West Valley."

"Not too far away."

"Maybe you should come to see me sometime," Alicia said, giving me a confident smile and a cocky wink. 

"What's your name?"

"Alicia." She reached out her hand. I couldn't take my eyes away from hers. "Hello? Anybody home?"

"I'm sorry. I'm Trent." Alicia's hand was as soft and silky as it looked. "Listen"--I pointed in the general direction of my farm--"I got to get going."

"Not before giving me your phone number." I almost forgot my number, and my hand was shaking when I wrote it down. And that's how it happened. I'd found gold at a cheap gas station. After doing her private school homework, we'd talked every night. At first, Mom hated Alicia. She told me she didn't like that Alicia didn't know how to farm or cook. Alicia had a maid, and she lived on Heights View. It's where all the wealthy people lived. Alicia's parents couldn't understand what she saw in me. But they never stopped us from seeing each other. 

 "Trent!" Mark nudged my arm. "You're daydreaming again. Don't tell me you're thinking about--"  

"I need some fresh air. I'll be back." I stood to my feet and made my way through the crowded bar. I finally reached the door, when I decided to get a cheap drink first. I waved a bartender over. 

"How can I help you?" she said. 

"Whatever's cheapest." I smiled.

"Look, I'm off the clock, and--"