Heart Burns

Chapter 6

My mother wasn't always like this. She used to be alive. She lived in New York for most of her adult life. That's where she met her husband, my father. She would tell me their love story as a bed time story when I was younger.

It was dark in the bar; mason jars filled with candles were the only source of light. "Fuck," Ryder mumbled, searching in his deep pockets for a lighter. A cigarette hung from his lips, a cold beer making rings on the smooth wood of the counter. "You should really have a coaster under that beer." He turned to see this doe eyed blonde standing next to him, a coke, he assumed, in front of her. She kept stirring it with her straw, watching the ice cubes become lovers. "Well, a coaster is the least of my problems, kid." She flinched at the nickname, a blush arising in her thin cheeks. "I'll have you know that I am twenty one," she said smugly, and Ryder chuckled. "Wow, you just got off the kiddie menu. Are you sure you don't want to use my grown up cell phone to call your mommy for a ride home?" He is greeted with a cold rush as she dumps her drink on his brown locks. "What the hell?" He growled, standing up, ice cubes and his cigarette falling to the cluttered floor. "Screw you!" She screamed, and rushed to the bathroom. Ryder cursed under his breath as the bartender handed him a towel. "Rough night?" He asked, and Ryder shrugged. "She was beautiful though." Ryder said, shaking off his jacket. The bartender snorted and went back to serving drinks to married men in business suits and girls with too much fake tan on. Ryder threw a ten dollar bill onto the bar and followed the girl's heated steps. She could have melted the floor. He found the restroom with girls in short dresses standing outside, legs crossed on the most dramatic girls. Some took double takes as he passed, and some actually started to hit on him, run their hands through his full hair as he scuttled his way to the door. He knocked, and the bottled red hair first in line stated the obvious, "She locked the door. There's more than one stall. Who the fuck does she think she is?" Ryder ignored her scratched up voice and picked the lock. He later informed Carol that he knew the bar so well that he knew every broken spot, one which had been this door. He opened the door to find the blonde in the corner of the bathroom, wiping off her eyes. She glanced up at him to the sound of the door opening, her expression immediately going to hate when she saw his apologetic smile. "Look, lady, I didn't mean to upset you. It was just a joke. And, in my defense, I might be just a bit drunk." He wobbled to prove his point. "Carol." "What?" He walked up closer to hear her better. "My name, you idiot!" She hit him on the arm and tried to shove past him. "Wait," He grabbed her forearm. "I'm sorry." He looked at her with ocean eyes, and she could see ships sailing in them. He saw what men bypassed. She was beautiful; she was pure in the best way. Her skin was milky, splattered with the occasional spill of freckles. Her eyes were hazel, bloodshot from the tears she had cried over him. Her hair ended in curls, blonde curls, and she smelled like a forest after a good rainfall. "Ryder." She smiled at the mention of normality. "Well, Ryder, would you like a lighter?" She reached into her small purse and pulled out a yellow lighter. He laughed, hearty, making her join with him. "How about I buy you a beer, start over?" She said, and he nodded. "I'd like that."