...she will...that's what she did...

...she looked at me.  It was an even stare, not typical for her.  She didn't slouch.  Her hair was pulled behind her ears, which she barely ever did (on account they were large, her ears, but I loved them because of it).  Johnny Griffin was on the overhead, pumping out 'Latin Quarter'.  Her grey eyes were fixed, her lids pulled back just enough to command attention.  She had it.  She always had my attention.  Lahna's name is Congonese for 'peace'.

"I have a secret."

Inwardly my heart dropped a few paces.  In my 38-years I knew what to expect from that statement.  It was hardly ever good.  It meant, for a 24-year-old, she was going to do something brash.  She accepted a job 3000 miles away.  She got a tattoo, which always look stupid on a hot chick.  It's like taking a Sharpie to  Greek statuary.  She quit her job.  She's gay.  She's secretly in love with me.  Now I'm getting stupid.  It must have been the third absinthe shot.

I returned her stare with a cock of my left eyebrow.  I'd like to think it says, "What shit is this now?"

"Is that it?  You're not going to ask?"  She smiled with a smile that was flash paper.  It blew up in my face like uranium.  In my old man's heart of hearts, I hope that smile was just for me.  (Oh, I know it wasn't.)

"What do you want me to say.  I know how this goes."

She frowned and looked out the windows as she sipped at her Blue Hawaiian.  "You're boring."  Now there's a phrase no hot-blooded middle-aged asshole wants to hear.  I was getting hot under the sports jacket.  A string of sweat washed along my spine.

"You met someone."  Her facade crumbled.  I hate having little victories.  She stopped sipping and slowly maneuvered her glass to the coaster like she had to aim.  I knew quickly that she wanted to get my take.  She wanted a rise (or not) out of me.  For a half-second her eyes got just a tinge of water.  "Oh my God," I said to myself.  Lahna actually cared enough about 'this' - although 'this' was nothing more than a year's long tract of interest.

She finally nodded, almost as if she were perturbed, "His name is Mark."  She didn't return her gaze for most of the rest of the night.  It didn't dawn on me until we were leaving.  To tell the truth, I don't remember anything else we discussed.  I was in a stupor up until I was helping her with her coat.  Her light brown hair tumbled around her collar as I helped her into the white wool frock.

She was being kind when she finally made contact with me again and smiled kindly, so sweetly.  It was a look of a young lady who made a decision.  I didn't feel a thing.  I was numbed to the core.  As we separated at the foyer, she gave me the old look.  The bright look.  My heart came back for a second.

"See ya."

And, I haven't had my heart since.