The night, the bar, the blond
The Secrets Jar series #1
The day I jumped out of a bridge wasn’t as scary as the night I decided to follow one of my girlfriends’ instructions, but at least I did it willingly and not because someone pushed me over the rail…
“You’ll do as I say and everything will be okay,” she told me as she handed me a gin and tonic, my least favorite drink of all at that time, my most hated one these days.
I’d decided five minutes before that I didn’t want to die sad and alone, and for some stupid reason I’d decided to share that information with her. Friends are supposed to support us no matter what, I’d thought, but shortly after I realized she’d never received that memo.
My cheating boyfriend had dumped me a week before, and that was the first day I’d left the house. I still hadn’t decided what was worse: forgiving him after knowing about his betrayal, watching him pick up his things from my apartment after he told me I wasn’t really his type, or letting him kiss me goodbye… But don’t judge me, not yet, because I’m no fragile flower waiting to be loved, plucked, and stepped over. The moment he tried to put his tongue inside my mouth, I felt so disgusted that I bit him. He left my place bleeding, crying, and screaming, and I closed the door and ate ice cream for a week. I wasn’t sad about him; I just felt bad because I was terrible at choosing guys.
“You’ll go there and ask him to pay you a drink,” she continued, pointing at a tall blond man way out of my league. He looked like someone who could have escaped from a fashion magazine, way too handsome, groomed, and well-built. I was used to the DIY type, the guys you need to tell to shave or buy long trousers during winter.
One thing was drinking shots or stupidly expensive cocktails; another was throwing myself into a stranger who could complain about my leg-shaving routine.
“That’s not safe,” I told her, as I recounted the many horror stories I’ve heard over the years. “He could be a psycho,” I added, but she laughed at me and reminded me of my Hannibal Lecter moment.
“Right, okay, I’ll go,” I said, dragging my feet toward him and thinking of a pick-up line that could get me a Diet Coke. My looks didn’t deserve much more, and I regretted not having showered. My ripped jeans and oversized T-shirt weren’t my best choice of the night either. If only I’d known we’d be going to a fancy place, I’d have washed my hair.
He was alone, and held a tall glass with a clear drink and a lemon wedge inside.
“Gin and tonic?” I asked, and he turned. When he looked at me, I saw his blue eyes, and instead of keeping my thoughts to myself, I spoke up loud enough for him to hear.
“What’s your secret?”
He smiled and got closer, so close that I could smell his minty breath. I got scared and reached for the pepper spray in my jeans pocket, but before I could do anything with it, he whispered in my ear, “I’m an introvert; that’s my secret…”
Lame… “Does it work?” I might have sounded a bit aggressive because he stepped back, but right after, I saw a smirk on his face that I recognized as a game-on moment. I guess that’s what a fisherman feels when the rod tip moves.
“Apparently, it does, because you didn’t spray me,” he said, pointing at the little pink container in my hand.
“Sorry, force of habit,” I chuckled, though it was a tremendous lie. I had the spray because it was part of the break-up care package my friends had gifted me that night, just before forcing me to leave the house. That’s the only memento I could carry with me. I put it in my pocket and left the rest of the stuff at home because going drinking in a bar while holding a unicorn-themed dildo is only accepted during a bachelorette party, and that wasn’t the case.
“No worries, I have sisters. They have it in blue and yellow.”
“Cool.” I’d preferred green, but I guess I can’t complain. My friends gave it to me,” I replied, pointing at my girls, who tried to hide as soon as they realized I was talking about them.
The blond waved at them, but no one dared to move. Cowards.
“So, what’s yours? What’s your secret?” I don’t know why it happened. Maybe it was the gin and tonics or the bar lights making me dizzy, but I felt like I was in The Matrix. He was shooting words at me, and I leaned back in slow motion. In my mind, it was cool… wooosh, wooosh… my arms floating…; in reality, I tripped and almost fell against someone else behind me. “Are you okay?” he said as he held me to keep me from crashing.
“I think I tripped,” I said, looking at his shoes, polished brown, spotless, surely expensive. There I was, in a fancy bar, with an attractive guy who seemed–so far– decent, and I couldn’t get it together.
“I’m sorry, this is silly. You might be waiting for someone, and if I stay here, the most probable thing I’ll do is spill my drink on you.” I signaled that I was leaving, waving goodbye and pointing to my group of friends, but then he touched my arm.
“You have no drink.”
I swear that wasn’t my intention. I really wanted to leave because there was no way I could land that maneuver, but as my uncle used to say, “You can drive your car, but you can’t control the weather.” For some weird reason I can’t explain, he seemed interested in talking to me, while the only thing I could think of was the night I met my ex.
“I’ll have a Diet Coke!” I asked the waiter, but he didn’t even look at me because he was dancing and serving shots to a group of girls a couple of meters from us. If I were him, I would probably be more interested in their deep V cleavages than in me. Even if I were myself, I would be more interested in them… how did they manage to keep nothing from escaping? Did they wear bras? Tape? I held my breasts with my hands and told the blond, “I don’t think he’s coming,” but he signaled the waiter, smiled at him, and shortly after I had my drink with a lime wedge.
“Impressive, thanks,” I said.
“He’s a friend; it’s nothing. But now you’ll have to pay… what’s your secret?”
“I have none; I’m an open book!” I said, gesticulating wildly– as drunk people do– and spilling half of my drink on him, as I knew it would happen. “Sorry!” I said, immediately trying to clean his trousers with my T-shirt, which put both of us in very uncomfortable positions.
“I think you might need fresh air.” I nodded as he took my arm and walked with me outside. My girlfriends cheered and gave me thumbs up from their corner. Outside, he sat on the curb and invited me to join him.
“This is better, isn’t it?” he asked once I sat. The fresh wind in my face helped a bit, but then I saw a couple kissing on the other side of the street, and I got so sad that a big tear rolled down my cheek.
“I guess so,” I said, looking up. No single star was in sight, so I focused on a lamppost instead.
“You’re funny, you know?” I was drunk, but was he? Why would someone say that about me?
“Am I?” I responded, confused, trying not to slur my words.
“You’re real, and that’s refreshing.”
I looked at my shirt, his stained trousers, my sneakers, and his blue, blue eyes. “You’re not real, right? Because guys aren’t this nice, and I still have the spray…”
“You don’t need the spray.”
“Okay, then I’ll do something. I’ll tell you my most embarrassing moment.”
“Isn’t this it?”
“You’re not so special,” I replied, putting my finger to his lips and asking him to shut up.
“My friends dared me once to jump from a bridge at night, into a river.”
“That’s dangerous!”
“Shhhh! I’m talking!... So I jumped the rail and held myself tight, scared because I couldn’t see the water, even though it was only three meters away. I stayed there for a solid half hour and decided I wouldn’t jump, and then a friend of mine pushed me.
“That’s it?”
“But I didn’t fall. My jeans got caught in a metal rod, and I was hanging for two hours until the firefighters came to rescue me.”
Mosquitoes were flying around the lamppost. The music got louder when someone opened the door. The blond looked at me in disbelief, then cracked up laughing.
“You’ve always been a jokester! I almost believed you!”
I shrugged and smiled back at him. “Have we met before?”
The Secrets Jar series started at my first book event (Let’s get bookish, September 19th, 2026, Amsterdam) for my novel Unwritten (Por Escribir in its Spanish version), where I asked attendees to share a secret by writing it down and putting it in the jar on my table. I’ll be using those secrets as prompts for my next months’ short stories.
This is me, setting the first secret free…
And this was the secret I used as prompt for this story.
