Swift as a Coursing River | Ongoing

3. Exploring

The façade of Bonaparte lights up magenta. Scattered over the square, a few people are smoking, the tips of their cigarettes glowing faintly in the night against the background of the bright bar. They're wearing flashy clothes and showing off skin, despite the chilly night air. Edwin is suddenly self-conscious about his comfortable brown trousers and grey shirt. It's what he always wears for casual parties with friends, but here, the browns and greys make him feel like a mouse caked in mud.

They're not even looking at him.

The bar itself is dim, but colourful lights – a shade of pink or purple again – blind him as he enters, Caroline's hand on his arm. There are small chandeliers above the bar that glitter and he looks away. At the back is free space to dance and a DJ booth, but he can't see it well over the heads of the people standing between the high tables and bar stools. It smells musky and the air is hot, but that's the fate of every bar. The music drills through his arms and rips through his shield, through his chest, and the coil in his throat unwinds further and pokes the back of his throat. How can he ever belong here?

The people are his daughters' age or younger. They're drinking and laughing; it was the same in his college days, when he went to bars with Ellen or friends. It's even the same square. It feels familiar.

Edwin relaxes while Caroline drags him to a table surrounded by a group that welcomes her with cheers when they spot them. They're a mixed bunch in their forties or fifties and on second glance, they're not the only group over thirty.

"Everyone, this is Edwin!" A chorus greets him and they throw out names that he doesn't catch and hold. They're too giddy and their energy grates on his skin, even if he's happy to be here, and not alone in his apartment. He's always needed time to blend in with a group.

Caroline joins in on a conversation about the last time the group was here and Edwin is left to observe. It's always been like that. He loves people, loves being out with friends, a good conversation, but he doesn't stand out between other vibrant trees; instead, he's bleak as the earth and nobody looks twice if they don't stumble over him.

When Caroline's conversation winds down, he clasps her shoulder. "Should I order our drinks?"

"Thanks! Beer for me, and more crisps. If we're gonna splurge, we're gonna splurge!" She laughs and it rekindles Edwin's enthusiasm.

It's busy at the bar – everywhere, really – but he manages to attract the attention of a bartender who is swaying to the music and mouthing along. It's a young woman, short blue hair, dark lipstick and dangling earrings. She takes his order with a nod and a smile and the coil in his throat doesn't pierce the tender flesh anymore.

"You lost, honey?" a warm voice puffs far too close to Edwin's ear. The guy has dark eyes accentuated with make-up that almost blends with his brown skin, he's wearing lipstick and jewellery and bright clothes as flashy as the lights. It'd have looked strange if he was 20, but the guy must be at least in his late thirties.

"Me?" Edwin's smile is stiff.

"Is this your first rodeo here? Roped into this by your one gay friend?" He drags his gaze over Edwin's body before looking into his eyes again. The guy's eyes are truly sultry.

"No, she's ... I'm gay."

"You are?" Another once-over. It tightens a vice in Edwin's stomach. Who the hell does this guy think he is?

"Of course I am!" he snaps. "This is an LGBT bar."

"Calm your tits, sweetie. I wasn't questioning you. Nobody here will tell you your sexuality. You're the new face, that's all." He leans back against the bar. "Are you here alone?"