THE WOMAN BEFORE

Chapter 10

I S L A

     “DO YOU WANT more of that?”

     Without looking up at the bartender, I push the glass forward and watch as he refills it with another round. I’ve been sitting at Brown’s for an hour now after spying on Rosina and Evans. I reasoned that I needed a very dark boozy drink, so I drove to Brown’s. My only regret is not coming to this place earlier. It’s been a while since I drank whiskey, and I’m starting to like the taste of it.

     Tonight, I intend to forget about my problems. I will let the alcohol intoxicate me and eventually, my head won’t be filled with that bastard Evans and his gold-digger wife-to-be Rosina. A stronger person would probably be in a therapist’s office by now, trying to get rid of my morbid thoughts, but here I am, sitting on a barstool and drowning my sorrows. I know this is the lamest solution to my problem because it will solve it only temporarily. I will wake up the next morning knowing Evans is getting married to her, and there is nothing I can do about it.

     “That’s the last one for tonight,” I tell the lanky bartender. “If I go again, I might not be able to drive home.”

     He smiles at me. “Sure, ma’am.”

     I gulp the drink and slouch, my dark brown hair tumbling down my shoulder. I keep my eyes on the floor, shuffling my feet, thinking of what I’ll do to them. The TV plays a game show in the background, and the host’s voice echoes in the bar. Indistinct conversations interrupt my thoughts, followed by rustles of clothes and the occasional dragging of wood.

     I still keep my head down, thinking. When I lift my head a minute later, a woman with olive-toned skin wearing blue jeans topped with a gray blouse looks blankly at me. She has a funny smile on her face.

     “I can’t believe it’s you, Isla. I saw you from the corner booth.” She fingers a vacant seat. I’m reluctant to look at it. I just focus on remembering where I know her from.

     She climbs onto a stool next to me and speaks to the bartender in a hurried voice, then turns to me. “When did you get out?”

     I still don’t recognize her. Have the years completely changed my memory of this town? I haven’t met many familiar faces. I was expecting to see my favorite bartender, Murphy, but to my disappointment, no one here seems to know who he is. She’s the first person I think I know from this town, but I can’t remember her name. Maybe it’s because of the change in appearance.

     I don’t want to be rude to this nice lady by telling her I’ve got no idea who she is, so I play along, although I don’t remember her entirely. Along the conversation, her name and my relationship with her will kick in. “A couple of weeks ago.”

     “I’ve missed you so much, Isla.” She looks dubiously at me as if realizing that I don’t remember her. “You know me, right?”

     I glance at her. “You’re—”

     “Emma.” She flicks her dark hair from her face. “Emma Waston. I used to buy items from your shop downtown.”

     Oh, my! I know this woman. Emma Waston. My loyal customer, but she’s changed so much, partly the reason I couldn’t make her out.