Free Rescue Breathing by Zoe Norman Page A

hard to
visit. I still see something in my mother's eyes that makes me
uncomfortable. The only real cure for this is a new relationship, I
suppose. I think deep down she's scared I'm going to become some
spinster psychologist who spends all her time with her nose in
books and not enough time meeting men and eventually making
grandbabies.
    I fall asleep with my mind reeling and
wake up a few hours later, refreshed but in a definite need of a
drink. I decide I'm going to make tonight special, so I rummage
through my suitcase and pull out my best outfit.
    Standing in the large bathroom, I stare at
myself in the mirror. I remember the glow I saw on my face when I
glanced at myself in the airplane bathroom with Owen. It has since
gone, but for once, I can feel it lingering in the background,
aching to come out. There is hope. It's the first time in a long
time that I have felt like I may have a chance at being happy
again. It's a heady feeling.
    My hair is curled and falls artfully down
my back. I have a desire
to look amazing tonight—another long-dormant feeling. I open my
makeup case and start my transformation.
    Pulling the zipper up on my little black
dress, I slip on my one pair of fuck-me heels. I feel a little
silly getting this dressed up, but hey, I don't get to go out that
often, so I'm gonna live it up, right?
    After grabbing my keycard, I head to the
elevator, hitting the button for the lobby. I still have about
fifteen minutes before Charley will meet me, but I figure that it's
Saturday night in a busy city in a nice hotel, so we may have to
wait for a table. As I step into the lobby, I am greeted with the
bustling sounds of the Seattle nightlife. The bar is popular and
crowded, and I can't help but smile. Sometimes it's nice to feel
like you're going out somewhere special, and tonight, I feel that
way.
    I walk into the bar and stand in the open
entryway, scanning for a table for two. As I look over the crowd, I
notice a very loud bunch of men and one or two very blonde women
standing in a group at the end of the bar. They are clearly
celebrating something and they are loud, boisterous, and amusing.
They look like they're having fun, and for a second, I actually
feel jealous of their little gathering and the fun they're having.
I peruse the room again only to find that all the tables are taken.
I do see, however, two unoccupied barstools toward the middle of
the bar. They are a little too close to the raucous men for good
conversation, but maybe a table will open up soon.
    I settle myself at the bar, placing my
handbag down and manage to hoist myself up on the stool without
showing everyone in the bar what color panties I'm wearing. My
phone buzzes on the bar top. It's a text from Charley.
     
    You won 't believe this but I blew a tire.
I'm calling for help now. Don't give up on me yet. I'll text you in
a few to let you know if I can make it!! xoxo C
     
    I frown. Ugh, that sucks. The bartender comes my way and I
order a mojito, light on the sugar. I'll have a drink, and if I
don't hear from her, I'll just go back up to my room. I text
back:
     
    No worries. Be safe. I'll be at the bar
having a drink.
     
    I can 't help but reminisce about my experience at the airport
bar and I smile to myself. I start to look around the room,
people-watching yet again. As I search for someone with an
interesting story, my eyes pass the entrance to the bar, and I
wonder if it's possible that Owen would walk in. Like some kind of
movie? Honestly, Olivia .
    I spot the same couple I saw when I came
in last night and I smile warmly at them. They are very lovey-dovey and kissing and hanging
on each other with no regard for being in public. Jay was not a fan
of public displays of affection (of course, now I know why) and I
often craved that with him. Just a touch, a look, or a peck on the
cheek would have been nice.
    I scan a little farther and see Rob, the
clinger from conferences past. I quickly spin myself around on my seat, praying he