My Lost in Translation Moment

I'm trying to fall asleep, but I'm thinking of Ashley. The Numa Numa song is background music to my reverie. I remember the first time I saw her, thinking "Wow! She's so pretty." Then she came over to take my order. She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the bar, interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on them. She looked into my eyes and said "Hi. What would you like to drink?" Looking back into her brown eyes, I fell for her right then and there.

I asked her her name, and she said "Ashley". I called her "Ash", nonsensically thinking of Bruce Campbell's character from The Evil Dead movies. She later told me that she liked being called "Ash", and that it made her feel comfortable, and welcome.

I felt a connection with her, but I never asked her out. I didn't want to be "that guy". The one who gets drunk and thinks all the barmaids are hot for him. The guy who the barmaids dread walking in. When she said she had a boyfriend, I completely dropped it, figuring she was telling me that she was taken.

I'm not much of a talker (more of a writer), and Irv was a godsend. He loved to talk, and more importantly, he enjoyed engaging Ashley in our conversations. He would ask her questions, and she would answer, looking at me. Occasionally, I'd be able to mumble something funny, or cute, but it was all Irv. Once in a while, I'd wonder if she also felt a connection to me, but it seemed doubtful, and I'll never know.

My favorite Ashley story goes like this: Irv and I were chatting, while having a few beers. I was eating the barbecued rib dinner. She asked me how it was, and I told her that I really liked the sauce. She said, "My boyfriend really likes barbecue sauce. He puts it on EVERYthing". I looked at her, then I looked at Irv, who was looking at me, and I looked back at Ashley, grinned, and asked "EVERYthing?". I wanted to ask her if it tingled, but I didn't. As she comprehended what Irv and I were thinking, she spun on her heal and briskly walked to the other end of the bar. I later apologized to her, if I had been too lewd, but she smiled that Ashley smile and told me not to worry about it. As a going away present, I got her a quart of Open Pit. Coincidentally, Irv was sitting next to me when I gave it to her. She loved it, both the joke, and the thought, as well as the nice letter I wrote.

Ashley's last working night at Mitchells was Sunday. I couldn't wait to see her, and as I sat down, I was well rewarded. She looked stunning in a frayed jean skirt and loose black t-shirt. She's got slender, trim legs from snowboarding. Her eyes were as bright as Venus or Mars in the summer sky and her smile warmed my heart the way children, grandma's cooking, or spending time around a campfire with best friends can. She was busy, so we didn't converse much at all. Instead, I talked with one of the cooks who works there. As he left, he wished me good luck, but I told him that I had no delusions that I had any chance with her. I knew my job Monday would require me to have my wits about me, since we were working on high voltage terminations, so I wasn't able to stay until closing. I'm sure my fantasy is obvious, but it was never tested. As I asked her to get my check, she asked, in a slightly shocked tone, "You don't want another beer?" It made me wonder...., but when I work on high voltage, it's a responsibility that I take seriously, so I left.

Wednesday, there was a small going-away party for Ashley at Mitchell's. I had worked 12 hours on both Monday and Tuesday, and I expected to work 12 hours on Wednesday also, but I'd still be able to get home, walk Katie, shower and go see her one last time. The job didn't go as planned. My partner was inexperienced at high voltage work, and he took much longer than expected. I ended up getting out of there after 16 hours. I was sure Ashley had gone, and I'd never see her again. I walked Katie then went up to Mitchell's for a wind-down beer.

At the far end of the bar, I saw her. She wore a white shirt and vest, with jeans. She looked adorable. I waved at her, and she waved back, so when Stacey came over to take my order, I asked her to get Ash a drink on me. She came over and hugged me. I told her that I'd miss her. We talked a bit, and she introduced me to her friends, and Mike, her boyfriend. I didn't make the BBQ sauce joke that was screaming to be let out, though. She left to mingle with her friends again, and I chatted with Camille and Leah. Then I heard Ashley shout, "SHAWN loves me!" It wasn't an accusation. She was happy to say that. Stacey came over and whispered "She's pretty drunk, but she's cute" I think as an apology. I just smiled. There was no apology needed.

Just before she left, Ash came over once more and hugged me goodbye. I held her tight. I imagined never letting go. I smelled her hair and felt her cheek against mine. She pressed against me, and I flexed, holding tighter. I wanted to tell her that she was right, that I did love her, but instead I wished her luck in Colorado. We unwound. She pulled away, and my arm slid down her back, fingers lightly making contact from the middle of her back, across her waist, and she was gone.

That's my Lost in Translation moment. I'll never forget it. As I lie on my deathbed, I'll wonder "What if..."