An Irishman Walks into a Bar

Rosie leaned her head against the sideboard of the train. She lazily gazed at the massive waves crashing along the Southern California coast. It was the time of day she referred to as the golden hour, right before sunset . The Surfliner Express was taking her as far south as Los Angeles, where she'd have to decide what her plans would be from there. Rosie bought a ticket on a whim. The train just happened to be pulling into the station as she was walking by.

She needed to get away from her immediate surroundings, where hurtful memories were lurking around every corner. Rose took the train's arrival as a sign and decided to take an impromptu ride. Everything that happened earlier was still fresh in her mind. She needed a place to clear her head. This morning had been a disaster.

Rosie wasn't sure what she's do when the train pulled into it's final destination in Los Angeles. She could catch another train that would leave in a few hours, which would take her tall the way to San Diego. Maybe she'd pop in to visit her Aunt and Uncle who lived in Escondido. That seemed a bit far though.

She thought about splurging on a hotel in downtown Los Angeles for thr night. Rose enjoyed spending evenings walking aimlessly through unfamiliar neighborhoods where nobody knew her. She particularly liked the odd suburbs in West Hollywood.

Maybe she'd only go for a few glasses of Merlot in the bar in Union Station, which felt and looked like a movie set in a Noir film from the post prohibition era. She loved all of those old, black and white, detective movies. She especially loved how those movies portrayed the ballsy women who smoked and drank and didn't care about being lady like.

She could also just stay on board until the train made its return trip back north. Rosie was at a loss. She loved the Art Deco design throughout the old part of Union station. She adored beautiful, historic buildings. Maybe she'd get off the train just long enough to take a few photos and head back home.

It would be close to midnight before she would arrive in San Diego, if she chose that route. This kind of wanton, spontaneous behavior didn't come naturally to her. Yet she always felt at ease on the train, no matter where it was headed. Something about being on a train gave her great comfort.

Rose just needed to get away, and nothing was more soothing to her than the hypnotic rhythm of a train clanking along on the tracks. She watched as the late February sun melted into the horizon. This was her happy spot. Riding the train helped her relax. She could read or write in her journal, or just stare out the window at the beautiful coastline. She could process her feelings without the crushing sadness of feeling totally alone.

Rose appreciated the feeling of anonymity while also being in the presence of other people, who were also alone, without feeling the emptiness of being all by herself. Rose never felt lonely on the train. She loved train rides especially for this reason. Rosie felt like there was some sort of connection between her and the other solo passengers. She felt an unspoken pact of solidarity between those who rode the train solo to escape their lonely lives, or at least that's what she liked to imagine.

Rosie thought getting off at Union Station for a few glasses of wine sounded like the most fun, as well as the most practical option. She couldn't come this far without at least getting off to take some photos. Train stations were one of the best places to people watch and take sneaky photographs of passers by. Union Station in Los Angeles was so rich with history and was beautifully ornate, making it a perfect place for taking pictures. The bar felt and looked like a time capsule from the 1930's.

Feeling anonymous in public where she lived was impossible. In Carpinteria, a person could hardly do their weekly shopping without a nosy neighbor making comments or talking behind their back. Worse were the fake niceties people would try to exchange just so they could attempt to pry into another person's private life. Some people, usually tourists, were genuinely just making benign small talk in line at the super market. Locals were just pesky neighbors who were curious about business that wasn't their own.

Rosie hated that she felt so alone there, but she also felt that the community had made an unfavorable opinion about her before they even got to know her. She felt like an outsider. Even though she had lived there for nearly ten years, Rosie never felt like part of the community. It seemed like everyone already had their social groups established. There wasn't any room for new-comers to join any group. Rose didn't have a husband or any children. Most women around her age in town did, which seemed to be a prerequisite in joining any social circle, aside from the AA meetings, which didn't seem appealing to her.

Rosalie Hampton moved to Carpinteria in her early 30's. She moved there to be closer to her aging parents, as she was their only child. They were in their seventies. She liked living near by in case they needed her. She liked feeling needed, even if it was only by her parents.

She hoped she'd meet a decent guy eventually. Unfortunately She met Thomas Boyd before anyone decent. He seemed interesting and fun at first. However, he was a bit too old for her. There weren't many desirable, single men anywhere near her age range in the area. She'd been with him nearly six years, and their relationship was starting to crumble.

Their relationship had always been a wild, winding road of emotions from the beginning. They were both artists and Virgos with egos to match. They had recently navigated the devastating loss of a miscarriage, and that had put a lot of strain on their union.

Rosie started drinking more than she should to numb the stinging sadness. It was all she could do to aside from begging for comfort from Thomas to console herself. He rarely had time for such things. So she found her comfort in the bottom of bottle after bottle of cheap Merlot.

It was coming up on half a year since she lost the baby, when Rosie discovered she was late for her period again. A home pregnancy test confirmed her worst fear. Since the doctor six months ago had told her she had a less than a one percent chance of ever conceiving again, she wasn't really worried about using contraception. Intense regret flooded her body.

This was the last thing she wanted after picking up the pieces from her previous miscarriage. Rosie initially thought she could be experiencing early onset menopause. She prayed that's what it was, but nope. The tell tale plus sign was definitely glaring at her like a bright red stoplight . She made an appointment to see an OBGYN to confirm the results of the home pregnancy test. There was no denying the truth.

Earlier that morning, Rosie had caught Thomas in bed with his ex girlfriend. She had come from her first sonogram, that was supposed to show how far along she was in this unexpected pregnancy, only to find out that there was no heart beat. It would have been eight weeks, but there was no baby.

She didn't want to tell Thomas the news over the phone or a text. Rosie thought it would be better to stop by his house to tell him in person. Maybe she should have called first. She certainly wasn't expecting to walk in on him with another woman, least of all his ex drug addict girlfriend.

The silver Prius in his driveway was the same make and model as his cleaning lady's car. What else was Rose supposed to assume, except that his housekeeper was over. As it turns out, the ex he never shut up about drove the exact same car. Upon walking through the unlocked side door, Rosie found them both naked and tangled in bed sheets with looks of shock and horror on their faces. What a nice surprise, Rosie thought.

Without saying a word, tears in her eyes, Rose turned around on a dime and walked right out. She headed to her car, and slammed the door to her little Beetle shut and screamed as loud as she ever had. How could this be happening?

In a jealous rage, Rosie gunned it back to her house to collect the ridiculous five foot tall teddy bear and the rest of the thoughtless gifts Thomas had given her for Christmas, just a few months prior. She returned to his house immediately, doused everything in lighter fluid, and set them ablaze in front of his house. Along with the flaming pile of shit, she threw a letter over Thomas's front gate, informing him it was finally over between them. He had gone too far this time.

Rosie recounted the events of the day as she stared out the train's window into the majestic colors of the winter sunset. How could she be so stupid? How did she miss the signs that he had lost interest in her? It didn't matter now. That chapter of her life was over, and now she had to find a way to pull herself out of this hole of misery for the last time.

The train was just a few stops from the station, where she'd have to decide what her next plan was. She opted to get off and head to the little bar in the old part of Union station. It was cozy, and nobody would know who she was there. Rose could use a nice glass of Merlot to calm her nerves. The bartenders wore uniforms that were designed in the style of the 1930's to add to the authenticity of the era. It was a nice place to escape reality.

Rose sat herself at the bar and got the bartender's attention. "Whatever Merlot you're pouring. You may as well just give me a bottle. It's been an interesting day."

Knowingly, the bartender gave her a nod and opened a fresh bottle. He put it aside in a fancy bucket with a white linen napkin wrapped around its neck to catch the drips after he poured her a glass. "Anything you'd care to talk about miss?" He asked.

"Not really, but thanks for asking", she replied. Rosie just wanted to sit in silence and take in the history of her surroundings. She wanted to imagine as if it were still the mid 1930's, before the war, when Americans were hopeful and coming out of an economic depression. She wanted to channel the spirit of their resilience.

There wasn't a rule book that stated you couldn't take yourself on an impromptu, romantic, date. Rose rather enjoyed spending time with herself. The awkwardness of small talk wouldn't be an issue, and she liked the freedom of not having to act or behave a certain way to impress a second party.

Rosie could revel in being her authentic self, and she could order anything she wanted without judgement. That was the best part. She had rather expensive taste, which Thomas didn't appreciate. An impish smile spread across her face. She didn't have to worry about that any longer.

She reflected on all the things that had transpired that day. What a nightmare it had been. Newly single at thirty-eight and not pregnant. After catching Thomas cheating, she felt these were actually blessings and she instantly felt a bit lighter. Although, his infidelity didn't make either of those facts hurt less, Rose knew it was for the best.

She continued to sip her Merlot as she pondered what was in store for her next. In mid thought, a handsome Irishman took a seat at the bear next to her. He smiled, smelled nice and was sharply dressed. As he ordered a pint of Harp, her ears tingled as she took in his thick accent. He was one handsome man.

"Well hello there. I hope this seat isn't taken."

She melted inside as she heard those words spill out of his beautiful mouth. "I's not. Please..." as she gestured for him to sit next to her. She could feel that she was beginning to blush. Rosie hated when that happened. There was no controlling it. "I'm Rosalie, and you are?"

" Jarred, nice to meet you. So what's brought you here today?" He casually asked

"Can we start with what's brought you here today? I hope it's a happier story than mine."

"Be careful lass. You never know what you're getting into when you ask an Irishman to tell you a story." His eyes wrinkled at the sides a bit as he let out a boisterous belly laugh.

She laughed with him, as if his laughter was contagious, although nothing was particularly funny. It felt nice, and she couldn't wait to hear what he'd say next.

So much for catching the last train home. It looked as if she'd be staying here a while longer than she anticipated.