I had just happened to run into Jane at a reunion party. It was strange seeing her after thirteen years, especially considering how much she’d changed. The eyes in the room fixated around her. The men were all staring down the slim figure that was covered by her red backless dress. It didn’t matter that they were here with other women. She was the center of attention.It was almost like a movie scene. The chatter of the people drowning out the slow, melancholic jazz music in the background. A part of me felt like it should have been in slow-motion.

I was sitting at the bar when she approached me.

“Excuse me? Bartender? One cosmopolitan please,”

Her voice had a womanly elegance to it. She took a seat on the empty bar stool next to me and waited for her drink. I don’t really know why I decided to talk to her. Maybe it was the fact that I’d broken up with my ex a few months back and was hoping for an easy one-night stand. Maybe I was genuinely interested in what had occurred in her life. Or maybe I was just too drunk to remember. In the long run, it didn’t really matter why.

I turned my head to face her. She was staring back at me with a slight smile.

“How’ve you been Alec?”

Her eyes stared intently into my own as she leaned her chin against the palm of her hand.

“Didn’t think you’d remember me,”

“How could I not?  You were the only one to ever talk to me, even if it was on rare occasion.”

“Was I really? I can’t have been the only one,”

“I think I’d remember,” Jane said as she let out laugh.

The bartender placed the cosmopolitan on the coaster in front of her. There was a moment of silence as she sipped from the glass.

“How’s everything been on your end?” I asked.

She stared into the glass as she spoke.

“I’m not sure. I guess my answer depends on if you can narrow the question down,”.

“Okay… How’s life?”

“Still a bit too broad,”

 “Where are you working?”

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“I work at a bar in Lower Manhattan,”

“Really? Didn’t expect you to be the bar worker type,”

“Haha, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! Everyone here’s working typical nine-to-five jobs, so I just assumed you would be doing the same thing,”

“You ever heard of the saying, ‘to assume makes an ass out of you and me?’”

“Nope, first time,”

Jane took another sip of her drink.

“Well the meanings in the phrase. Hope you caught that,”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the light-hearted banter. I never thought I’d have an experience like that with Jane.

“I’m curious, what’s the name of bar?”

She ran her ring finger along the rim of the glass as she spoke in an almost melancholic voice.

“It’s called The Immigrant

“Oh, the bar on East 9th Street?”

“That’s the one,” she said.

“What do you do there?”

“Talk to the patrons, serve drinks, the usual,”

“I see. Is it fun?”

“It has its moments,”

There was a long silence. I kept catching the urge to ask a barrage of questions and each time, I held myself back.

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke, do you want to come along?” I asked.

She downed her drink and left some crumpled up bills on the bar counter.

“Sure,”

We didn’t talk much on the way out. Like blank rounds being fired into the dark, there was no holding onto a conversation. I handed her a cigarette and lit it for her. I lit my own immediately after. We blew our gray plumes of chemical smoke out into the bitter night in silence, with only the distant honking of cars and the murmurs of night-life to keep us company.

I felt Jane clasp her hands around mine. I didn’t mind and clasped my fingers around hers. We finished our cigarettes before hailing a taxi. When we got back to my apartment, I couldn’t help but sense a fragility to the night. The music, the sex, the alcohol, all of it, ready to fall apart at any moment. But, it didn’t, and the night simply ended. We slept beside each other without a word.

The next morning, she wasn’t there, as expected. A few days later, I heard that Jane had hung herself at a friend’s place. After hearing the news, I found myself thinking about her at night. One day, I called off work and went to The Immigrant as it opened. A manager happened to be working there and I asked him about Jane.

“Jane? Don’t recall anyone by that name ever working here,”

Some part of me had figured that was the case. I gave him a brief description of her. Diamond-shaped head, brown hair, slim figure, about five-foot six.

“Oh, that girl. Don’t think her name was Jane, it was something like Claire. If that’s who you’re talking about, she came often. Mooched drinks off some of the guys, then went home with one of them. I’m not one to judge, so I never said anything. Pretty sure it was routine for her. Always ordered the same drink and always went home with a guy.”

 “Did she ever wear a red dress?”

The manager laughed.

“What? That girl? I never saw her in anything but jeans and a sweater. But, she did have a nice face. I’d have paid to see her in a red dress,” he said while laughing.

Unconsciously, all the questions I wanted to ask her lingered in my head as if they were on repeat. To this day, I don’t really know why it was me who happened to run into her. Maybe it was the fact that I’d broken up with my ex a few months back and was hoping for an easy one-night stand. Maybe I was genuinely interested in what had occurred in her life. Or maybe it was that I was too drunk to remember. In the long run, it really didn’t matter why because I just never asked the right questions that night.