6Evlin made her way to the bar slowly, taking in the people around her. She saw the blond woman in the red dress straddling the old man on the bar stool, making out with his neck; she saw the very big man with long hair, ripped jeans, tattoos and a bandanna, arm wrestling one of the other four, similarly dressed men with him; she saw the man in a business suit with horn-rimmed glasses, loose tie and rolled up sleeves, downing his eighth tequila of the night. What Evlin didn't see was the stories behind each and every one of these people. Eyes lingering on each person, she felt just a flicker of curiosity of what their stories could be, but it only lasted a second, for after just one second she would be, once again, consumed by her own story.
She sat down on the only unoccupied bar stool, tapped the counter and called out over the loud rock music, "a gin and tonic please."
The bartender, a woman with frizzy bleached blond hair, hideous blue eye shadow, smeared liner and mascara, and bright red lipstick replied, "coming right up sweetie."
Evlin acknowledged the bartender with a slight smile, and then stared at her hands, which now rested on top of the bar. Evlin had golden brown wavey hair that reached just below her shoulder blades. She typically had paler skin, but it was tinted golden bronze from recent exposure to the sun. She had soft pink lips, a soft small nose and soft big gray eyes, accompanied by full and long black lashes. Her dark brown eyebrows expressed the strongest emotions with just a flicker of movement.
The bartender placed the gin and tonic before Evlin and smiled sympathetically, mistaking Evlin's expression, one void of emotion, for an face of sorrow. Once again, to be polite Evlin smiled slightly before taking a sip of her gin and tonic.
Evlin knew that the bartender probably pitied her. She knew this because she had seen that same sympathetic smile her whole life. First, when she was six, from her neighbors, when she had been dropped off at their house so her parents could continue their fighting without her present, then from her history teacher when she was thirteen and failing the course, again when she was eighteen from the nurse form the hospital where both her parents died. Over the years she had seen that smile again and again, more recently from her best friend George, when she broke up with her boyfriend Andrew after he hit her in a heated fight.
Tonight was the first night in a week that she was alone since her break up with Andrew. Tonight was the only night that George hadn't been able to be around to distract her from her loneliness.
But Evlin wasn't sad, yes she was lonely, and yes she was hurt by Andrew both emotionally and physically, but what bothered Evlin most was that despite all of this, she was bored.
When she was little, she promised herself that she would do something exciting with her life, that she wouldn't have a typical and boring life working in an office, getting married, having kids, then grandkids and then dying. She promised herself that her life would be adventurous and thrilling. Here she was at twenty three, with the most incredible best friend, George, working in New York City at an art gallery, living in an incredible studio apartment in the meat packing district, and she was bored.
Evlin finished the rest of her drink in one breath, slammed the glass down, stretched her neck, rolled her shoulders, threw a five dollar bill on the counter and then got up and left.
In the darker corner of the bar, a corner that went by unnoticed by Evlin, a cigarette butt glowed in the shadows, lighting up a pair of dark eyes. The dark eyes followed Evlin out of the bar. Without blinking an eye, the man with the dark eyes put out his cigarette in the ash tray and followed Evlin out of the bar.
Evlin glanced down at her silver Timex, 8:14 PM, as she stepped onto the subway headed downtown. She sat down in the closest available seat to rescue her feet and calves from the pain of walking and standing in her heels. She stared at her own reflection in the dark glass across from her, studying the bags that had formed from a seemingly endless day at the gallery. She had been so busy with the newest exhibit that she hadn't even had time for a lunch break. She felt her stomach churn with hunger and planned out her meal of pasta and salad that she would make as soon as she got back to her studio apartment.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, making a mental schedule of what she would do as soon as she got back to her apartment.
First, she would neatly place her shoes against the wall and put her keys in the bowl on the table by the door. Then she would walk to the kitchen and start boiling the water, then change out of her black pencil skirt and white blouse into comfortable sweats. Then she would light some incense and play some soft music, and then continue cooking her meal. After she ate, she would rinse her dishes then place them, in an organized fashion, into the dishwasher. Then she sit on her big comfy black leather couch as she would flip through the most recent Time magazine. After this she would turn off the music, turn off the lights and get ready for bed. She imagined collapsing into her temperpedic mattress and curling up underneath her big white comforter and giving into a peaceful, sixteen hour sleep.
Evlin walked into her apartment at 9: 02 PM, and kicked off her shoes and dropped her keys on the floor. She picked up her portable phone and dialed Dominos. She dropped the reciever on her couch, and opened up her kitchen cabinet and took out the bottle of red wine. She didn't bother to get a glass and went back to her sound system and blasted The Killers. Fifteen minutes later her pizza arrived. She placed the box on the floor, hiked up her skirt and plopped on the floor. She munched on her pizza and sipped on her wine while bobbling slightly to the beat of the music. Suddenly lethargic, she crawled to the couch and climbed onto the black leather and konked out despite the volume of the music playing.
The man with the dark eyes stood out on the corner of the street with another cigarette, staring up at her window on the 7th floor, still fully lit at 2:38 AM. He took another drag of his cigarette then dropped it onto the wet pavement below his feet. He walked away.
Hey! So I am really excited for this story, although I'm a new and definitely not brilliant writer, so I apologize in advance for any errors I may make. I very open to any suggestions/critiques/etc that you may have, so please, please review! Thanks, and I hope you enjoy :)