Like always, he just shook his head. He wouldn't go out because no one would be by his side. He could be in a room full of people and still feel completely alone. As far as he was concerned, he was alone. He couldn't hear Southern words like "yonder" or "ain'tcha" that had no meaning to him. There were no soft chuckles of laughter next to his ear as he told her jokes or read to her. That touch that made him shiver and sent his spine to tingling was long gone. All gone. She was gone.
And she had been for three years. No calls, not even a letter to say, "Hey, are you still alive?". She had left him standing there and never even looked back. She left him. And she had broken her promise for the first time in her life. She had promised to come back, but she hadn't. Not yet. Jagger still hung onto the tiny shred of hope that she was going to return to him, but as the months piled atop one another, the thread became shorter and shorter.
The anger built inside of him, anger that he would never let out.
"Yeah," he called after the guys as they left the room. "I'll go." He might as well drown some of that utter sorrow. Jagger knew he would regret it soon because of what it did to him, but right then, he didn't care. He was tired of waiting, tired of hoping. For once, he just wanted to be reckless and forget about her.
He followed the guys down the street to some hideaway bar. It wasn't like the places he would have visited, but he had to remind himself, "You're in college now, Jag." He could have been in college with her. They could have been married by now, almost done with their college years and ready to settle into a life together. But she left. He shook his head, silently reprimanding himself. Tonight wasn't about her. Every other night since she left had been, but tonight, he wasn't going to let himself think about her. No more.
He sidled up to the bar and ordered a simple drink, not even sure of what he called out to the bartender. He noticed she was pretty, but typical. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Bright smile and a northern accent. And he wasn't even interested. He didn't give her a second glance and never even bothered to ask her name. He just took his drink and set it on the counter as he hopped up on the barstool.
Someone came to sit beside him and ordered the exact same thing. He glanced over at her, doing a double take. She wore large, dark glasses, the kind that had become popular recently, and a long overcoat. A scarf was wrapped around her head, but he could tell from looking at her hands that she was young. No lines, no wrinkles. Her skin was pale, soft, smooth and her nails were unpolished, but clean. She wore no jewelry save for one simple silver ring, a "C" inlaid with filligree. He thought he recognized it, but just shook his head. All the girls had rings like that.
She must've noticed him looking because she turned her head toward him, just a little.
"Alone?" she asked and he laughed, a hollow, bitter sound.
"Unbelievably alone," he replied and took a long drink from his glass.
He saw her smile, just a little, but it wasn't mocking or joyful. It was sad, understanding, sympathetic.
"She left you." It wasn't a question and it required no response. Someone had hit the target and he didn't even flench. Was it that obvious? Was he wearing a sign that he couldn't see? 'Abandoned and alone. Stay away from this one' was what it should have said.
"Yes," he whispered, staring down into his drink. "I thought she'd come back."
The woman watched him and then looked away. Her voice was soft, calm, and he felt himself trusting her. He had heard of that connection, instant, with no explanation.
"Perhaps it was just too hard..."
He shook his head, biting his lip. "No...She's afraid."
"Afraid of what?" she asked, propping her chin in her hand in a way that brought back too many memories for him.
"Of loving me..."
The woman touched his arm and he felt familiar shivers again. "Oh no...She was never afraid of that...No one could be, just from looking at you. She left because she did love you...and couldn't bear to watch you slip away from her." She withdrew her hand and laid a bill on the bar before standing up. She hadn't even touched her drink. "She loves you, James," the woman whispered and squeezed his shoulder.
She had known his name. It finally caught up to him and he frowned. No one knew him by that name around there. No one knew him at all. His puzzled mind searched for a simple explanation, and he came up with something plausible, something to give him the strength to go on a little longer. An angel, he thought as he turned to watch her go. She weaved through the crowd and her scarf fell away, revealing dark red, curly hair. His heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. His angel.
Like a bolt of lightning, he raced after her, but when he burst through the doors and looked up and down the street, he saw that she was gone. He screamed her name like madman, but she was gone. Again. He staggered back to a wall and leaned against it, tears in his eyes. She had come back.