The Face in the Bar

How many tragedies does it take to change a person ?

As I was taking one of my irregular night walks, I decided to go through the busier quarter of town, which I typically avoid. Walking casually while looking into windows of buildings and doorways, I paused outside a local bar. There, through a large multi-panelled window, I could clearly see her sitting among some people I didn’t recognise. It being night, everything within was illuminated and despite the window being less than clean, I was sure of it. Her face had traces of barely discernible worry lines which you could see between her laughter and smiles in response to the conversations taking place around her. Only someone who knew her would know the worries that had created those fading lines.

Her hair was shorter, no longer worn in long, flowing waves of black. I notice some grey as well. Her health seems better. There’s a glow on her cheeks, which was visible even from where I stood. No longer sallow or withdrawn. Her eyes were shining brightly as well, the way they used to at one time, watching each person speaking at the table attentively, with her chin held in her palm.

They are toasting someone. Glasses were raised. Glasses set down. She is talking now. She holds the stem of the wine glass with both hands, fingers together as in a prayer. She no longer clutches it with one hand, the other free to wave her hand about. She doesn’t point or jab. She is speaking gently. She’s calmer. After all she has been through, that was good to see. A woman next to her is speaking and she listens, paying close attention. Her hands are still. She isn’t fidgeting.

Someone gets up. The party gets up as well. Several people leave the table, men and women separately. Perhaps to the washrooms. She remains alone, gently sipping her wine. Slowly setting it on the table. She has her palms together again. Prayer pose. Around the neck of the wine glass. It’s definitely her. Those eyes are unmistakable. Yet her demeanour is different. She’s not the same person. How many tragedies does it take to change a person ? In her case, several. But I’m happy to see that, it seems, it’s all been for the better.

She looks up. Her friends are back. She smiles and waves them to their places. A fresh conversation starts. Someone is gesturing to the waiter in the background, indicating that a fresh bottle of wine was required. Laughter breaks out. All is well.

I left the happy party and continued with my night walk.

photo from unsplash.com by Andrew Seaman

19 thoughts on “The Face in the Bar”

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