Echo

Those were the odds any self-respecting single man would celebrate. Even though he could now call himself well-off by most standards, he normally found himself reticent to join the nightly festivities of the crazy rich in this town that served as a bizarre escape from the reality of the rest of the country.
    But tonight he wanted to flex his muscles. Perhaps his buoyant mood, inherited from Jose’s infectious happiness, portended a good omen. Taking a very deep breath, he decided. Tonight would be the night. He felt jazzed up and ready to go fishing for the ladies.
    Driving down Main Street proved difficult. Traffic congestion continually hindered his efforts to find a parking place. By the time he found one, discouragement settled in, robbing him of his ebullient mood, leaking out like a punctured tire. His reluctance to enter any of the most boisterous bars overwhelmed him. Forcing himself to suck it up, he timidly selected one that appeared more discrete and subdued.
    As he entered the bar, he relaxed, the atmosphere appeared quiet and nonthreatening, although clearly not the place most partiers wanted to be seen in. Definitely down scale. Oh well, it would do fine as a start for him. Scanning the bar, he noticed an empty stool between two other patrons. He started forward, the stool quickly taken by another man. As he stood deciding what to do, he noticed a couple of patrons giving him a quick once over, especially the woman. As his courage began to evaporate, one of the patrons stood up. A short dumpy man, motioned toward him, offering his seat. Well, that was sure kind. Peter turned to thank him, but the man ducked his face down, hurrying out the door before Peter could even open his mouth.
    Getting comfortable on the bar stool, he ordered a glass of wine, then glanced at his reflection in the back bar mirror. His face looked even wider and more owlish than usual. But the mirror failed to hide the quiet, clean cut, timid man who was finally tired of being alone.
    He sat sulking about his lonely life, ordering another glass of wine. A little liquid courage can’t hurt . As people were coming and going, he sat stiffly on his bar stool, unsure what to do next. Feeling discouraged, he felt a bump on the right side of his bar stool. A patron, the woman who had been staring at him, rose from her stool, getting ready to leave. She suddenly dropped her purse. Attempting to assist as she bent to retrieve it, they banged heads together.
    “Ow.”
    “Ouch.” Peter rubbed his head, looking up into the eyes of a pretty blonde woman, seemingly a few years older than him. Her nose scrunched up as she laughed heartily at her own clumsiness.
    “I’m sorry, that’s so typical of me. I’m rather clumsy. Are you okay?” She extended her hand to grip his arm, rubbing softly to reassure him, an intimate gesture. Touched, Peter hastened to assure her of his recovery.
    “May I insist you allow me to buy you a cocktail? Just so I can assure myself you’re fine?” Her smile so lovely, her manner so charming, he found himself instantly enticed. A pretty woman wants to buy me a drink. How do you like that? When you least expect it, something special comes your way. Looking into her relaxed and friendly face, he felt no qualms about spending time with her. All trace of nervousness disappeared. He began to relax and enjoy himself.
    As the evening wore on, they discovered much in common; both from small towns, both professionals. When she found out he was an attorney, she could not resist inquiring into his intent to sue her for the knot on his noggin. She made him laugh, something unfamiliar to him.
    Peter shyly suggested they have dinner together. He wanted to do anything he could to prolong their time together. He just loved how her blond curls shook as she laughed at his lame jokes. What a doll , he thought, enjoying how the glow of the bar lights made her eyes sparkle. They strolled down the street just like all the other happy couples, selecting a nice restaurant, sharing savory lobster and excellent champagne, frugality forgotten. Her hand lingered on his as she made an occasional point. Peter found himself grinning and laughing so hard his muscles started to ache.
    Finally, they realized the night must end. Suggesting she walk him to his car, she pointed out the high-rise she lived in, easily within walking distance of the restaurant. After arriving at his BMW, he inquired as to whether he could call her for dinner