Second Chances

                                                    Preface
         I sat on the rug running my hands though her hair as she lay sprawled over my lap. It reminded me vaguely of a cat in the sun. It was cold outside, not winter cold, but the onsets of it. The glass was just barely frosting over. It was warm in the room though, thank heaven for central heating and cooling and we sat contentedly on the rug. It was the first time in long time when we could just sit and enjoy the warm silence around us; it would also be the last. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said unwillingly breaking the silence. “I know, you said.” She said nuzzling my side with her forehead. “I don’t want to.” I sighed removing my hand from her hair and sitting back on my hands.  “Then don’t,” she said lifting herself up to look at me with those hazel eyes. I was always weak for hazel eyes. “You know I can’t, unless you want me to quit my job and work taking portraits for your local department store.” She put a hand on my chest and leaned into me, “I’d see you more that way.” I must have made a face because the next thing she said was, “But I know you would never be really happy that way.” She kissed my forehead. I reached out and held her face before it went too far and gave her a real kiss. When we broke her head fell onto my chest, “Don’t go.” “I have to…now in fact.” She sighed and lifted herself off me to let me go, but I could see the unwillingness in her movements. I grabbed her wrist before I got up and gave her one more long kiss. She sighed again when we broke it off and went into the other room brining out suitcase and my camera bag. I got up and grabbed my coat and fedora from the stand. She came out with my bags and handed them to me only to disappear into the other room. “I’ll be back in a few weeks.” I called out to her, but she didn’t answer. I grabbed my bags and headed out the door. That was the last time I ever saw her.
       Three years later I’m sitting in a bar in downtown Tucson wondering what the hell I’m doing in this desert and why I’m not drunker than I am when another ‘she’ walked through the door. I was feeling too fuzzy to actually really notice her, but as soon as she walked in the door I got a feeling of anticipation so great I couldn’t help myself from looking up. She was young, she disappointed my anticipation, and I turned back to my drink. Four drinks later I get that feeling of anticipation again and she sits down next to me. I ignore her until she asks, “Do you like pictures?” My head sunk and I began to laugh uncontrollably. She stared at me with an unwavering gaze, if slightly confused. I calmed myself down and said, “No, I loathe pictures.” I turned away again to look deeply at my drink and ironically wondered how I would have to adjust the lighting to get the brown to look as brown as it was on film. “Funny, I thought you loved pictures, isn’t that why you ran away?” I looked up at her suddenly, but calmed myself down realizing she must have heard me mumbling to myself. “You’re wrong. What gives you the right to think you know me?” It sounded better in my head. She scoffed, “Because I do know you and I want to help, just tell me where the picture is.” I blinked twice, “What picture?” She sighed exasperated, “you know what I mean, the…” She was cut off though by the sight of frail thin woman entering the bar with a steady slow pace. “Shit!” she swore and grabbed me by the arm, “Let’s get out of here.” “Huh?” The thin woman with a mink stole and purple evening dress that looked like it belonged in a 40’s comedy romance than it did in a bar in Tucson, spotted us and slowly made her way over, “there you are.” Her voice sounded a little like cat claws on a chalk board. “Come on!” the girl yelled and dragged me at a sprint out of the bar, what was going on?