I sat there, staring at the brown liquid in my small glass. I slowly swirled it around, making the large chunk of ice in it sway. I stared at the water in it as it created a whirlpool around the ice. That glass of iced whiskey was like a mirror. It was reflecting my life for these past three years. She left me, leaving me devastated. I tried continuing everything like nothing happened, but it wasn’t working out for me. Life right now is exactly like the whirlpool in my glass. I can’t even sing properly. I try to write down the word, but nothing was coming out properly. Everything I do is .

 

I scratched my head, and drained the glass of whiskey. Before I could ask for another one, the sound of someone sitting next to me stopped me from whatever I was doing. 

 

“One glass of Red Wine please.”

 

Red Wine, my favorite. I shifted my head to look at whoever was sitting beside me.

 

“Red?”

 

The girl beside me turned her head, and my gaze met hers. Those hazel eyes, I can never forget them.

 

“Chen?” she asked as she slowly pulled a smile onto her lips.

 

“Chen!” She said as she turned her seat to face me, “it’s so nice to see you!”

 

“Yeah,” I said, “you to.”

 

I stared at her. Her once red hair is now dyed back to the original jet-black. Her hair was how I gave her the nickname “Red”.

 

She’s changed a lot.

 

The bartender brought back a glass of Red Wine, and out it in front of her.

 

“You still drink that?”

 

Red looked at the glass in front of her, and gave a sad smile.

 

“It’s the only thing I can drink.”

 

Right, she wasn’t the type to drink. She used to refuse to drink even a sip of anything containing alcohol. That is, until I introduced her to red Wine. But then again, she was able to drink only half of a glass, and stopped right after that. Saying that she was scared that she would get drunk.

 

Red turned to look at me, and asked.

 

“You don’t drink this anymore?”

 

“No.”

 

“I thought it was your favorite.”

 

“Switched to whiskey.”

 

She silently nodded, and tightly held onto her glass of Wine.

 

“So,” I asked, “how are you?”

 

“Fine, you?”

 

“Never better.”

 

Hah, lies.

 

She silently nodded, and went back to staring at her red drink. I sighed, and turned to her.

 

“So, how’s business?”

 

We soon started to talk, and catch up to whatever each of us has left. It seems that she’s doing good. She has a job, unlike me who’s stuck in this bar, singing.

 

Not once did she drink her red Wine while we talked. She’d ask me a few questions, and listened to my reply eagerly. Soon, two hours had passed without any of us realizing. I looked at her glass, which was still full of Wine.

 

“Not drinking that?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Why’d order it then?”

 

She clutched the glass, and looked at me.

 

“Just…” she started, “nostalgic.” She finished with a voice barely loud enough for me to hear.

 

I stared at her face, and realized she was smiling. My eyes widened at the sight of her watering eyes. She wasn’t the type to cry so easily. She’s what boys would call, “The Iron Lady”.

 

I recalled what I used to tell her when she tried to ensure me she was fine although she was crying.

 

“Why smile when you want to cry?”

 

Her eyes widened when I finished my sentence. She let out a small laugh, and a tear rolled down her cheek. I sighed. It was like we were meeting for the first time.

 

“Red.”

 

I called out to her, but before I could finish what I wanted to say, someone touched my shoulder. I turned. It was the drummer.

 

“It’s your turn.”

 

I sighed, and stood up, leaving red at the bar.

 

I walked up to the stage, and grabbed my guitar. I then sat on the stool, and adjusted my microphone. There weren’t many people in the bar, so I didn’t have to worry that much about people throwing tomatoes at me. But for some reason, I was worried.

 

I sighed, and looked at Red. She was looking at me as she held her glass of Wine. She smiled at me. I sighed, and strummed my guitar.

 

“She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart. While I'm drinking Jack all alone in my local bar, and we don't know how. How we got into this mad situation, only doing things out of frustration. Trying to make it work, but, man, these times are hard.”

 

I sang as I looked at red. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Her grasp on her cup loosened, and her expression changed into something I can’t recognize.

 

“She needs me now but I can't seem to find the time. I got a new job now on the unemployment line, and we don't know how. How we got into this mess, is it God's test? Someone help us 'cause we're doing our best. Trying to make things work, but, man, these times are hard.”

 

As I sang, I didn’t dare look at her face. I couldn’t face her, so I just stared at the clock on the wall. It’s what she told me.

 

“Chen,” she used to say, “If you feel nervous, and you can’t look at the audience, just stare at the horizon.”

 

“But were gonna start by drinking our cheap bottles of wine. Sit talking up all night, doing things we haven’t for awhile. We’re smiling but we’re close to tears. Even after all these years, we just now got the feeling that we’re meeting for the first time.”

 

I began to harmonize, and build up my guts to look at Red. Our gaze met, and slowly, she began to smile.

 

So did I.

 

“She’s in line at the dole with head held high, while I just lost my job and didn’t loose my pride, and we both know how. How we’re gonna make it work when it hurts, when you pick yourself up you get kicked to the dirt. Tryin’ to make work but man, these times are hard.” I sang as I smiled.

 

“But were gonna start by drinking our cheap bottles of wine, sit talkin’ up all night, doing things we haven’t for awhile. We’re smiling but we’re close to tears, even after all these years. We just now got the feeling, that we’re meeting for the first time.”

 

This time, I looked at her as I sang. I could see her grasp loosen even more on her glass of wine. I strummed my guitar once more, and kept on singing.

 

“Drinking our cheap bottles of wine, sit talkin’ up all night, doing things we haven’t for awhile. We’re smiling but we’re close to tears, even after all these years. We just now got the feeling that we’re meeting for the first time.”

 

I looked at her again. Her expression was something similar to disbelieve.

 

“For the first time.”

 

I smiled at her.

 

“Yea, for the first time.”

 

She slowly smiled at me.

 

“Oh, for the first time.”

 

My voice raised, and it filled the whole bar.

 

A tear rolled down her eye, and I could see her chuckle.

 

“Oh, these times are hard, they’re all makin’ us crazy don’t give up on me, baby.”

 

I smiled at her, realizing that she was trying hard to cover her face by looking at her untouched glass of wine.

 

“Oh, these times are hard, they’re all makin’ us crazy don’t give up on me, baby.”

 

I could see her cry, but she was smiling.

 

I slowly strummed by guitar, trying my best to not break down as I end the song.

 

“Oh,” I sang slowly, “these times are hard. They’re all makin’ us crazy.”

 

I looked at red, who had tear stains on her cheeks.

 

“Don’t give up on me, baby.” I looked at red as I strummed the last chord on my guitar.

 

She chuckled.

 

I put down my guitar, and slowly walked down the stage towards her. She stood up from her seat, and looked at me.

 

“Was that all true?”

 

“What was?”

 

“The song.”

 

I sighed.

 

“I guess.”

 

Red stared at the floor, and stayed silent. I couldn’t really say anything, now that all this was out.

 

There was an awkward silence, until I decided to break it.

 

“Hey, Red.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, but I swear I could here a sniffle.

 

“For what?”

 

“Everything.”

 

I sighed.

 

“Red, look at me.”

 

She didn’t lift her head.

 

“Keshia.” I called, as I slowly lifted her face.

 

She was crying. I didn’t really say anything, not that I could. I was at a lost of words. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I always did when she was troubled.

 

I pulled her in for a hug.

 

She wasn’t exactly short, so she couldn’t bury her face in my chest. Instead, I put her head on my shoulder, and held on to her.

 

We stayed that way for about a minute, until I felt her arms slowly hugging me back.

 

I let out a smile, and leaned my head on hers. It felt nice having her back in my arms. I could feel her tears on my shoulder. I don’t know if I should be happy about this, or not. Well, if she’s crying it’s either she wants ‘us’ back, or she’s just feeling really sorry for my poor state. Either way, it shows that she still has feelings for me.

 

Even just a little. And, that’s a good thing.

 

But then, I shouldn’t be happy when a girl’s crying in my arms. That’s just wrong on so many levels.

 

When I felt her breathe calm down, I broke the hug. I couldn’t find the words, but tried to say something anyway.

 

“Hey, uh. You wanna get a drink?”

 

She looked at me, and smiled.

 

“What kind?”

 

“Red win.e You’re fine with it, right?”

 

She nodded, and I scratched my head.

 

“But, not here. I sort off finished my money on the whiskey.”

 

She laughed.

 

“Canned wine sound =s good.”

 

I smiled, and held onto her arm.

 

“This is De Javu, isn’t it? I think we did this the first time we met.”

 

“You remember?”

 

“Of course.”

 

She stayed quiet.

 

“Will it really be De Javu?”

 

I smiled. Does she want it to be De Javu?

 

“Maybe, let’s just wait and see.”

 

And it really was like when we met for the first time.