11/30/11

Table for Two
By Nick Allen


The evening air was still warm and I cradled my second glass of lager while scanning the tables around the pool for a face I knew. She was not there so I looked again to the group of people at the bar, searching the crowd for, and not finding, Jill.

It had been exactly a year since I was last in Turkey, in this bar, chatting with her. We’d been on the same walking holiday. I’d booked on it alone, while Jill had come with a friend who twisted her ankle on the second day. On the walks I mixed with the other group members but found that Jill and I always gravitated towards one another at some point, spending most of the trek side by side. Our guides would always ensure the walks finished at a taverna where food and drinks awaited our weary group. Without thinking, we would save a place for each other so we could sit together for a few hours enjoying the sun, the drinks, and each other’s company.

We were both single and would often share stories of disastrous dates we’d had and the faux pas we had made. Somehow it just never occurred to me that Jill and I could be a couple; she was just someone whose company I enjoyed. It’s silly really, but looking back I think that was because, at 44, she was two years older than me.

And then came our last night together. We usually never saw each other in the evenings as Jill would spend the time with her friend who’d had to sit by the pool all day, alone. But the last night was different - the rep had got us all together for one last group drink.

This is the table I sat at that night with Jill and her friend, the moment when it dawned on me that after that evening, I’d never see her again.

I wanted to say something, but we were all laughing about all the ridiculous things we had done that week and I knew the moment wasn’t right, and to say something, especially in front of her friend, might embarrass her. Then before I knew it, the bar was empty and people were drifting off to bed. Jill and her friend got up to leave and I saw my last chance was slipping away – I had to do something.

“Tell you what Jill, if I’m still single this time next year, I’m coming back to this bar, sitting at this table. What about it?”

“Is that an invitation?” Jill was laughing.

“Sure is,” I said, “one year today.”

“Mmm, we’ll have to see,” she said disappearing into the gloom of the night with her friend.

So, was she serious? Did she think I was just joking around? Could she still be single?

Those were the thoughts, the doubts that were running through my mind as, through the crowd, I saw a smiling face I recognized.


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I am a Nurse working in the south of England. I have written Flash Fiction for about five years and have recently started a creative writer's group called Dorset Scribblers. In my spare time I enjoy walking and photography.