'' Rock Chick and Mr. Rock 'n' Roll, in the meantime, were smiling at each other; their looks saying more than their mouths could express with words. Mr. Rock 'n' Roll couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he had met such a woman before Mrs. Not-So-Rock-'n'-Roll. He knew it wasn't right to think this way, but he couldn’t make himself feel embarrassed or ashamed after the life he had been forced to live after they said "I do".
Rock Chick was delighted that the night finally seemed to turn into something good. She was expecting a hundred percent crappy night after her date stood her up, but there she was, dancing with Mr. Rock 'n' Roll. It was the first time she didn't dance like she was alone. She was dancing because she was with someone who she wanted to see her dance. She smiled up at him warmly.
"What would cause a guy like you to be at a deserted bar like this at such a late hour?" she asked softly, the music covering her voice, but not before Mr. Rock 'n' Roll could hear her.
He decided not to mention his wife. She'd had occupied his mind long enough with her pointless, one after the other hysterical crises lately. It was time to let her go, so he remembered why he picked this place in the first place.
"I came to remember the good old times. This used to be my hangout a few years back. The music was always great."
Rock Chick decided she wasn't mistaken about him. He was her type. She lifted her gaze to his eyes and their eyes locked. The world around them was just a colorful blur.
What a nice way to feel, she thought.
"Here's your bill," the bartender said, and let the little white piece of paper on Mr. Multicultural's architecture book. He began looking for Mrs. Black and White's car key again.
"Thank you," he said, and without removing his look from the woman next to him he reached for the paper. He glanced at it only for a split second, to put it in his pocket and get money from his wallet to pay. He gave him way more than his brandy would cost and he knew it. He leaned away from Mrs. Black and White, and closer to the bartender as he whispered in his ear, "Keep the change for the lady's drink."
The bartender's face lit up. There was enough money for both their bills, and a generous tip. He wasn't sure if his customer had realized it, but he walked away happy.
In the meantime, Mrs. Black and White literally poured her heart out to Mr. Multicultural. She felt so comfortable with him, so much at peace. Her sobs were fading away, and she had stopped crying. She was looking at Mr. Multicultural's light eyes and felt like she could tell him anything that had ever troubled her and he would listen intently. With this and that, they realized how much they had in common. She loved arts and he had so much to tell her about it. He was sensitive, sweet and kind. A real gentleman. He was such a good listener as well. He listened to every single word she said, his expression so composed and soft at the same time... He was literally hanging on every word from her lips. Her husband was nothing like this. He was the kind of man who'd sit and watch baseball on the TV with his smelly feet on the table she had just cleaned, drinking beer and throwing the cans on the floor she had just vacuumed, eating popcorn without caring if half of it fell on the sofa or left stains on the pillows she had just washed and dried.
“I don’t even know where I’ll spend the night. I can’t go home,” she said, looking down at her hands ashamed. It was a pretty much pointless question to worry about. The night was almost over. It was already 5 A.M. She could take a nap in her truck, and head to the hospital to be at her son’s side shortly after that.
Mr. Multicultural caught himself wanting to tell her to come to his home. It was a small two room flat, but he could spend the night, or what was left of it, on the couch. She seemed to need a good sleep more than he did. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked at her shoulder, now covered with her coat again. He still couldn’t get the picture of her bruised pale skin out of his head though.
“Have you put ice on the bruises? They will start swelling.” He wasn’t good with medical stuff, but it was something to say. She shook her head slowly and watched as he motioned for the bartender to come back over. Once there, he asked him for some ice and a towel. The bartender came back with a metallic bucket filled with ice and a small, black towel. That would probably do. He leaned again away from Mrs. Black and White and asked the bartender “Is there any chance you could make her a coffee?”
The bartender thought about it a little. There was coffee in the back, he used to have keep it there for the busiest nights, when he had to stay on his feet until the end of his shift and had no help. He could make some and get paid for it. Plus that money would be all his since coffee’s not on the catalogue. “Bitter?” he asked, smirking.
“Sounds like a good idea,” he nodded. The barman walked away and they were alone again.
Mr. Multicultural reached for the ice and filled the towel with ice cubes, making it look like a small bundle. Mrs. Black and White shrugged away her coat, exposing the skin of her neck and shoulder. Her skin was like porcelain, that delicate, pale shade of pink, so beautiful and healthy looking. He already loathed the man who had dared to hurt her. How could someone like this sweet, sensitive woman end up with him? He was intending to hand the towel with the ice to her, but she didn’t seem to have realized it. He wondered if she’d consider it a violation of her private space if he was the one who pressed it against the bruise. He slowly gathered the courage to place the cold towel against her skin; she flinched away at first, but she relaxed slowly. She smiled at him and her gaze lowered, moving from his eyes to his lips. He had such full lips and he looked so much better than her husband. He was so sweet… What if he was the one she was with? If she had only dared to get out of her little town… If she dared to face the rest of the world… Her life would be much easier. Much, much easier.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered breathlessly.
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