Sweet Home Alabama

She ran one hand through her hair and pulled it all to one side, angled her head to keep it in that position, then lifted a burning match to the cigarette already waiting in between her lips. The flame lit up her face and made her eyelashes dance in the shadows beneath her brow. She inhaled deeply, rested her arms on the bar, watched the smoke drift into the room before her as she breathed out, then turned to look at her companion.

“If you could change one thing about me, what would it be?” she asked him.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, gave her a half smile before reaching his hand toward hers. “The fact that you smoke,” he said as he calmly took the cigarette from her fingers and crushed it out in the ashtray in front of her.

Her eyes widened slightly. “You know I’m just going to light another one in thirty seconds.”

“I’ll put that one out, too.”

She shifted position, leaned forward to place a light kiss on his lips.

“That’s a first,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“We’re in public.”

“I didn’t see anyone I knew,” she whispered as she looked around conspiratorially.

“When are you going to admit that we’re together?”

“When we are.”

“We sleep together,” he told her.

“Mm-hm.”

“So?” he asked.

“So…we’re just not.”

She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. The jukebox kicked in, making conversation more difficult. As they both sipped at the drinks in front of them, she slowly pulled out her pack of cigarettes. “Sweet Home Alabama” began to play as she lit a second cigarette.

“Last month,” she began. “When you went with Drew to visit his cousin in Alabama? I must have heard this song about three times that week. It was kind of strange.”

His arm paused from taking the drink that was halfway to his mouth. “Did I ever mention the fact that Drew’s cousin is female?” he asked.

She shook her head. “So?” she asked.

“So, that’s why he brought me with him.”

Her eyebrows arched slightly. “Long drive?”

“Because she was female,” he corrected.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

There was silence for thirty seconds. She put the cigarette out and raised her eyebrows. “Are you trying to tell me you slept with her?”

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” he said.

“How could you do something like that?”

He looked her straight in the eye, took her pack of cigarettes, lit one, and handed it to her.

“Because we’re not together.”

Published in The Iconoclast June 1999