Reminders of Him

by Colleen Hoover

“What can I get you?” I ask her. “Water and a Diet Coke, please.” She doesn’t look up at me, so I back away to fulfill her order. She’s still writing in her notebook when I return with her drinks. I try to get a glimpse of what she’s writing, but she closes her notebook and lifts her eyes. “Thank . . .” She pauses in the middle of what I think is her attempt at saying thank you. She mutters the word you and sticks the straw in her mouth. She seems flustered. I want to ask her questions, like what her name is and where she’s from, but I’ve learned over the years of owning this place that asking questions of lonely people in a bar can quickly turn into conversations I have to maul my way out of. But most of the people who come in here don’t capture my attention like she has. I gesture toward her two drinks and say, “Are you waiting for someone else?” She pulls both drinks closer. “Nope. Just thirsty.” She breaks eye contact with me and leans back in her chair, pulling her notebook with her and giving it all her attention. I can take a hint. I walk to the other end of the bar to give her privacy. Roman returns from the kitchen and nudges his head in her direction. “Who’s she?” “I don’t know, but she isn’t wearing a wedding ring, so she’s not your type.” “Very funny.”