The Lonely Lady

Sunday nights... kind of like a hit or miss trend at the bar lately. It seems though, even on the slowest of nights when the minutes are lasting hours -- there are always one or two faces I can count on seeing. The trend amongst these faces, are --they all seem sad, empty, lost, even hopeless. To me, they reflect the faces of true socially-impaired alcoholics. One of them being Nancy.

Nancy, is an elderly lady.. Not exactly sure HOW old Nancy is.. but by the her physical appearance.. the smoker's wrinkles, the hunched posture, and the thinned hair-- she appears to be in her early sixties... Dont quote me on that though. How can I describe Nancy well wnough to you, that you can completely appreciate the simplicity and perhaps the underlying complexities of she. (??) Hmm..

Well, EVERY night, sunday through Saturday... around 9:00 pm, Nancy staggers into the bar.. apparently making her last stop of her daily-bar-hopping excursions. Always dressed in some thin, cotton, tapered ankle pants that sag at the butt as if she has rocks in her draws, along with a matching t-shirt, which she apparently gave up on wearing bras years ago. Nancy also, ALWAYS wear one of three different crocheted sweaters, that appear to be older than I am. Nancy walks with a permanent limped-stagger and always looks like she is lost. Its strange. Then when she walks into the bar, the same way she has everynite for countless years.. she hops onto a stool, gives a routinely-dry greeting, and without being asked, is served with a glass of white wine accompanied by a glass of ice water. And then.... she stares. Seriously, she just stares. If NO ONE approaches her for conversation, which they rarely do, Nancy stares blankly at whatever she's fixated her attention on, and gets lost-- SOMEWHERE. Occasionally, you will look and see her jaw slightly dropped as if a sound is trying to escape... but NOTHING. She also seems to suffer from some sort of anxiety problem, as she often rings her hands together, compulsively.. especially in the rare instance, that she is engaged in conversation.

Nancy is an interesting character. She has annoying habits.. like silently pushing her glasses to the edge of the bar to let me know that she wants a refill.. instead of calling out to me. Or refusing to drink her water after the cup is 1/4 of the way empty (i guess it only taste good at the top of the glass). Or leaving her nasty, used, crumpled tissues on the abr for me to pick-up. Then when she is ready to end her night of silent-drinking, she calls the cab, ALWAYS stating her full name and address. Rituallistically, upon the cab arrival, Nancy makes a hurried departure (as if the cab will dissapear and she will be stuck forever here , if she does not reach it with in a matter of seconds)..leaving behind, her also very ritualistic $2.00 tip. (thanks Nancy)

I find myself getting annoyed with Nancy , quite often, despite the fact that I do feel bad about it.. I mean, shes harmless. All she appears to want out of life, is to be able to enjoy glasses upon glasses of wine until it is time to go home... and without being bothered or bothering anyone.. (in all honesty- there should be more customers like that).. but I always wonder about Nancy.. About why, if she doesn't seem to care for any social interaction- does she not just drink her wine in the comfort of her own home. (?) I imagine she is lonely. I imagine that she is sad and lonely. Old, sad and lonely. And then I feel bad for her. Perhaps, I never gave her a fair chance. Perhaps, this old , sometimes annoying, lady has no one. Perhaps, the entire course of her life, entails nothing more than working, and then travelling from bar to bar in an attempt to drown away her sorrows and forget about the empty house that waits. I fear seeing my future reflected in Nancy.

But perhaps she doesnt want anyone though, perhaps she likes her house empty.. I will never truly know these things until I ask.. I suppose.

Maybe on the next Sunday, that is only I and Nancy , sitting alone in this small bar-- I will make an attempt to understand the inner workings of this lady... because behind every worn face, on top of every hunched back, in every set of tired eyes.. there is a story. There is a lifetime of joy, pain, comedy, and darkness. There is a person. And we live in a world, where we are ALL guilty of making biased and false assumptions about others without having witnessed their substance.