Mr Jones and Me

It was one of those nights as Silas called them. One of “those nights”. The words trailing into breathlessness as they escaped his mouth. One of those nights when all the necessary elements were present in their correct configuration: not just the money, not just the weather and not just the place. It was beyond that. It was an energy, a vibe, a resonance in all the minds involved; total, unflinching agreement that they were young, invincible and magnificent and ready to rip the heart beating out of the chest of the night.

It is on nights like this that drunk driving fatalities are borne, it is on nights like this that unwanted children are conceived. It is fine, perhaps, to think that you cannot be burnt, as long as you are not walking into any bonfires.

Dora was sitting alone at the corner of the bar. There is a way a blouse wraps itself around a woman’s body that is just so right, a way that jeans cling to thigh that makes it seem like for them this is the achievement of ultimate purpose.

Dora’s face was set unsmiling. The yellow barlight made her skin glow. She was looking over at the pool table, but she was clearly not watching. She looked bored.

We had all been staring, all five of us.

Space leaned back and spread out his hands as if to invite applause for his next statement. “You guys,” he said, “let me assure you how I know the chick.”

He waited for the chorus of no ways and fuck yous to complete its circuit round the group before he raised himself partly out of his seat and leaned forward. On cue, she turned from the game to face our table. And saw Space. He waved.
She smiled politely and waved back.
Space leaned back into his chair with a happy grin on his face. "Dora Mbabazi. Resident of Nakawa Division, one of my many admirers. If you are good little boys, I may give you an introduction.”

It didn’t matter how good we were, though because by the time we turned round again, she was gone.

Gone? Not entirely. Dora, in her way, stayed with us all night, lingering in the taste of beer, glistening in the light, whispering in the music. A romantic would say we had all fallen in love with her, but that would be absurdly wrong. We were young, invincible, magnificent and far too stupid and self-involved for love. It was more a thick mingling of lust and intimidation that settled upon the table. I felt something a little bit extra, though. I wasn’t just attracted, wasn’t just intimidated. Those feelings stem from a cohesive sense of what you have seen . My feeling came from what I had not seen.

Diana