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irwinwe

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The pub was hazy with smoke, and loud.  Andy shoved through the hordes of people to get to the bar, and ordered us two Guinness beers.  After smiling roguishly at me when I took three enormous swigs, we went to mingly with a group of his friends that were already there.  They were telling jokes and howling, and I didn't know what they were saying in their slurred, Scottish-accented phrases, but their laughter was infectious and put me in a rather goofy mood along with them.  I took another swig of my Guinness, and while I was drinking I noticed a girl from my history class.  She was sitting at a table in the far corner of the pub.  My brows furrowed.  Was she by herself?  When I glanced over at her five minutes later and she was still alone, I figured I would go talk to her.  I nudged Andy and told him to catch up with me later, and then headed to where the girl was sitting.  She recognized me and smiled, which encouraged me to sit.

"Hey you're tha' girl from class, arena you?  The American?"

"Yeh that's me" I laughed in answer, not knowing if her opinion of me was positive or negative, "I'm Ellen."

"Yeh, and I'm Victoria.  Call me Vic, though.  Listen, you were so guud in class this week" she said, giving me just the adulation I needed to feel confident that she didn't think of me negatively, "the professor must think ye're brilliant, he's always extolling your answers." 

I raised both my brows, "Oh really?  Because I was under the impression that he thought I was some brainless fop that didn't deserve to be here.  Especially after the first day."

She laughed.  "No, not at all.  When I was in undergraduate school at St. Andrews he was getting his doctorate, just like we are now.  I had him as a Teacher's Assistant in one of my introductory history classes.  He was a tough teacher even then, and verra distant, but tha' is just how he is.  Ye can tell he likes ye when he calls on ye a lot in class."

"Well, I don't think he likes me, I think he's just trying to create circumstances for me to fail and thus for him to reap glory."  She laughed again, wavy, red-blonde hair falling over her glasses and into her face.  She was a very pretty girl, I thought, especially when she smiled.  I hadn't noticed it before; in class she had always been meekly looking down at her book, or hiding behind her boyfriend, who was a member of the "trouble-making" group that had raucously entered the classroom on the first day of class.  I wondered if he treated her well.  It seemed as though she was the type that was always being taken advantage of.  Then again, it was none of my business. 

Suddenly I noticed one of the songs that the DJ had begun to play.  It was a techno remix version of an American rap song.  I noticed some of the lyrics, "...apple-bottom jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was lookin' at her...".  I squealed in recognition, and then had a great urge to head out to the dance floor.  I looked at Vic and exclaimed, "I didn't know you were in to American music over here.  I thought you guys hated rap especially!"

"Och, no, we love it!" She exclaimed, smiling again, eyes a radiant blue behind her glasses.  

"Let's go dance!" I said, taking her by the hand, eagerly seeking my long-awaited club-dancing release of frustration.  

"Och no, I canna, I am waiting for my boyfriend.  He's at the bar..." she protested.

So it was her boyfriend that had left her all by herself for so long.  I knew it.  "Vic how long has he been at the bar?" I looked at her knowingly.  

She huffed, then answered, "Too long".  

I smiled back at her.  "Exactly.  Too long.  And I don't know about you, but I don't wait around for my men.  Plus, it seems the only good ones are either gay, already taken, or my cousin, so it's a helpless cause."

"Your cousin?" she giggled, slightly aghast, "you mean you're attracted to your cousin?"

Since I am from Kentucky, and certain...stereotypes...of incest have arisen from this area, I have often found it rather hysterical that my cousins happen to be some of the most attractive men I've ever seen.  Wicked coincidence, I'm sure.  It further convinced me that God has a sense of humor.  

"NO!" I told her, "I'm not attracted to them in the way you're thinking.  They just happen to be really good-looking."

She was visibly relieved and smiled.  Then she looked toward the bar again, which seemed to dampen her spirits.  "The whole idea of a man, or being with one, is just so frustrating" she lamely but very popularly observed.  

"I know" I agreed with her, missing my best gay friend Tazio from home.  In my opinion, the best people to go clubbing with were gay men.  They weren't interested in touching women inappropriately, or in trying to sleep with them.  They played an ideal double role.  They were the man on a woman's arm, creating the aesthetic affect of having a date, but they danced and talked like women, so they didn't create awkward opposite-sex situations.  I remembered countless occasions when Lora and I had been Tazio's "fruit flies" at dance clubs.  We had more fun when we were with him than when we were with straight men.  

"Weel" Vic concluded, interrupting my thoughts, "I suppose if I mean enough to him, he'll know where to look to find me."  

I gave her a dazzling smile of approval, and then we left our chairs to walk off towards the dance floor.  If there were not many people dancing before we arrived, we inspired the oncoming crowds of menagerie.  I found that even though Vic seemed meek, she was quite a wild dancer.  We both reveled in the sound of the music and danced vivaciously with any and everyone that approached.  I figured no one would remember me on the morrow, as people usually went to pubs to "not remember", so I just let myself go.  At one point in the night I saw Andy dancing with Vic, and was momentarily intrigued, my mind formulating a burgeoning connection between them that I had not thought of before.  When I looked over later, however, her boyfriend had found her, and my left brow rose in disappointment. 

I walked off alone, sweating and thirsty, to get a water at the bar.  My friends at home used to make fun of me for sweating profusely at clubs, my response always being, "Well at least I go to a club to dance, as opposed to strictly standing around and looking good."  I was still smiling in memory when I looked up and saw the very quintessence of hell on earth staring directly into my eyes.