The Three Wise Women

The neon sign buzzed and crackled, trying desperately to beam down the dull fluorescent light on those tables clouded by the thick lingering cigar haze. They provided enough glow to reflect off the empty glasses and bottles on this particular table towards the back corner of the bar, and it bounced dully off a pair of glasses one of them was wearing.

Amidst the sound of people cheering, raising and clinking their mugs, old tunes playing over the speakers, the shuffling of feet to and from the bar...a hum of drunken energy...a soft mumbling and slight sniffles could be heard from the table with the three women sitting around it. Hunched over, huddled over the table so their voices could be but a whisper in this noisy zoo... that way their secrets, while being spoken out loud, could remain a mystery to anyone outside this circle. They talked over several empty beer bottles and shot glasses, trophies of all the rounds they had survived this night; testament to the seriousness of the mood, preview of what the other half of the evening had in store for them. Here they were, three women...three generations...three different points on a map. Yet one thing had brought them here tonight, one common thread bound them together regardless of their backgrounds and their upbringing. Love and loss.

The eldest of them, Sandra, had flowing white hair that made her look like a wise mystical fairy. She by no means looked her age and never, ever, acted on it either. Her loud heartfelt laugh and colorful vocabulary were always an instant hit, and in this case she fit in perfectly with the other two women. The second one was in her early 30's with a beautiful warm smile and serene soothing eyes that would comfort you within seconds of meeting her. She, Jenna, had the everlasting patience and mothering to deal with anyone she crossed...often neglecting her own needs and desires to make others happy, safe. The youngest one, Carlie, never took anything seriously - at least that was her charade most of the time. With a head full of bronze ringlets and her square framed glasses, she was once described as having a smile that made it seem she was the only one in on the joke, that she was up to no good. Deep down, she felt old...tired. She was given to strong emotions, trusting. Tonight, she was with two of the ladies she loved, respected and trusted most.

They sat there, sometimes giggling and many times just silent staring down at the drink in their hands until Carlie slapped the table boisterously, almost knocking their drinks off while saying in a low scream "Come on ladies, no tears! We're here to exorcise ourselves so drink up bitches!" The two others just shook their heads and laughed, knowing Carlie spoke the truth but did not believe it in her heart. The defeated young girl knew she hadn't fooled them and her smile became now painful to hold on her face, so she waved at the waitress leaning against the bar and waited for the next round to arrive.

"I just don't know how to not think about him. I've tried cutting off all communication, I've tried living my life and keeping busy...", Jenna said stumbling over her words, talking like rapid-fire,"...but he's always there, in every corner a memory. I even begged him to stay away!" At this second, she stopped herself from spilling her guts out on the table and into that neat-half full- metal ashtray. Carlie looked away to make sure the drinks were coming, nervously tapping her Newcastle bottle, swallowing hard at the confessions being slowly unraveled and hurled into space. She returns her glance back at the table to see Sandra discreetly flicking a tear off her smooth, pale cheek. Sandra smiles sadly at both of them and puts a cigarette to her quivering lips, and accepts Carlie's offer to light it up. Taking a few puffs, she beings with a loud "They don't care, you know? They all just think with their dicks", she cackles out a loud laugh and taps off the excess ash before taking another slow drag. She flips her hair and continues, "I knew something was wrong from the beginning and I didn't stop it, and now I don't even know why I care about that little shit...", her voice getting lower and trailing off with her thoughts.

Carlie desperately downs the new shot of Patron in front of her, slamming the glass down and picking up a fresh beer to chase the taste away. Her face contorts and she shakes her head as the burn settles down her throat. "We all deserve better. We did nothing but love, trust, hope...for nothing! Not even a sorry!", Carlie finishes in a crescendo. Jenna interrupts quickly, having just drank half her glass of wine, "But see he didn't do anything wrong! Why should he apologize? I'm sure I'm the one that pushed him all along and I probably misinterpreted it-". Sandra takes her hand and slowly covers Jenna's mouth and shakes her head saying, "They have their faults too, they're not saints. We are not crazy, we did not imagine situations or feelings..." Carlie mumbles, "I probably did", scoffing. Jenna grins and says, "Yes, YOU probably did sister, how lewd of you!"...earning a very heartfelt middle finger from Carlie and a high five from Sandra. This makes them all break into relaxed laughs before falling completely silent, once again.

It is in this silence that most of the truth is spoken, they all still love and wait. They hold on to a blind hope, tighter with each blow they receive. "Ah, what the hell, we're gettin' a cab anyways right?", giggles Carlie as she orders another round...number...9? 10? Jenna checks her cell phone and sighs, but the other two don't need an explanation as to who she's waiting on...they themselves check their cell phones. Carlie half dials a number before pressing "End" a little too forcefully, making the cell slip from her hands and land on the ashtray. She picks it up angrily and starts dusting it off, grumbling, "This is your fault too jackass..." Sandra lights another cigarette and says, "It's all their fault, at least everything bad that happens to us...so their shit outta luck." Jenna puts the cell away and says "Damn right! We'll be FINE. We'll be okay...right?" No spoken answer comes at that question, only halfhearted nods.

How can they be sure they'll be okay? They know what is likely to happen. They will forgive, they will accept them back and they will meet here, in the same dark corner of the bar, a few months down the road. The stories will be the same, the pain will still be raw and new promises will be made...with the 'new beginning' and 'this is final this time' they talk so much about but never happens. The three of them, having given their hearts to those who never asked for it nor deserved it. To any other bar patrons they looked like ladies being free...feminist...powerful...beautiful. Unreasonable for three wise women, to be the exact opposite. Yet they were at their weakest tonight...Except , if you went up to their table and complimented any or all of them, they were guaranteed to reply, "You goddamn right we're beautiful." And...even under the glow of a hazy neon bar sign, with slightly runny make-up and smoke wrapping around them like fog...their true inner and outer beauty could not be hidden. Their hearts outshone it all...as they rose and strolled out the door into the night, arms linked...in love.

"You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille (you bitch!, you slut!, you whore!)" - K.R.