A very short story

“She said no,” he said as he walked into the bar.  His friends gave out a communal sigh of deflation. “She said never,” he said.

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing,” John said. “She said never,” he repeated.

John patted his back with the thunderous confidence of a real pal. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

He looked sheepish. He said, “She does. She knows what she’s missing.” He had allowed a sob to escape.

“She doesn’t want me,” he said with a mix of pain and surprise.

John said, “The waitress likes you. She’ll say yes.” The friends settled into weekday chit-chat and more beer.

A few weeks passed like this, with John urging him to move on, and he calling upon her rejection. The bar was quieter. Again, he said, “She said never.“

A girl, if girls can be in their late 30s, walked over to the table. John nodded to the friends to step away. The girl sat without asking.

He found himself laughing. They ordered burgers and a salad to share. “She has great teeth,” he said to himself. “I mean, I like her smile.”

“Where do you live,” the girl asked, “I’ll come make you supper Friday night.”

He demurred. “Are you sure?” The girl nodded. “I’m a good plain cook. I’ll make fish on Friday. Fish and rice.”

Sheila stopped him on the street. “You’ve recovered. Quickly,” she said.

“You said never,” he said. Sheila said, “Never is a long time. I meant not now, not then.”

“You recovered quickly,” Sheila said again. “Never,” he said.

Sheila reached over to adjust an errant curl on his forehead. He said, “You said no.” Sheila kissed his cheek lightly, familiarly as she turned to walk away.