“What can I get for you, hon?” she asks.
Hon? I almost laugh at that. She doesn’t look much older than me.
I glance at the menu. “Just a white wine, please.”
“Chardonnay or sauv blanc?”
I shrug. “What do you recommend?”
She chuckles. “To tell you the truth, they both kind of suck. We’re not exactly known for our wines here.”
I cock my head. “And what exactly are you known for here?”
She grins. “I’ll make you my special. I call it the Shirley.”
“And you’re Shirley, I’m guessing.”
“Right there, detective. Some good sleuthing skills you’ve got there.”
That pulls a small smile out of me. “Well, not to brag, but I am a student at the med school.”
Shirley widens her eyes. “No kidding! That’s incredible. I’ve always said we should have more female doctors. Do you know the number of men I’ve gone to complaining about something, and they’ve always told me it was probably menstrual cramps?”
I laugh out loud at that. Really laugh. “You and me both, sister.”
“Tell you what, doc. This one’s on me.” Shirley gets to work pouring various liquors and mixers into a shaker along with some ice. She gives it a few good shakes and then pours it into a martini glass.
I take a sip, hoping to God it isn’t some undergraduate jungle juice concoction. “Wow, this is great. Sweet, but with just an edge of bitterness.”
She pats her chest. “Just like her namesake.” She leans on the bar. “So I’m not getting the vibe that you’re here to meet men.”
I swallow. “I’m not. Well, I’m here to meet a man. But not the plural men.” I laugh uneasily. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be here at all if I didn’t owe this guy a favor.”
Shirley bounces her eyebrows. “Do tell.”
I bite my lip. “Well… It isn’t a very funny story.”
“Not all stories need to be funny. I’d know. I’m a creative writing major myself.”
“Really? That must be fun.”
She shrugs. “It would be if my profs weren’t all such big snores.”
I chuckle again. “The same can be said of medical school professors as well.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She leans in again, stroking her chin. “So tell me the story, if you’re comfortable with it.”
I’m not comfortable with it in the slightest. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s good to sit in the discomfort. The memories of that night eased their chokehold on my throat after I told Henry about it. Maybe telling a second person, even if she’s a virtual stranger, will help me heal a little more.
“Well, I made a stupid mistake. Went on a walk after dark through the city streets.”
Shirley arches her eyebrows. “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh is right. Eventually some freak sneaked up on me out of the shadows and started threatening me.”
“Oh, yikes.”
“Yeah. And then this guy—the guy I’m getting a drink with tonight—came out of nowhere. Saved my ass and scared the other guy away.”
