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Show 174 him away. The young women laughed and bargained for the right to sit on Paco's lap. One had her hand on my thigh as well. Yet in the end the night came to nothing. In the bar, Elisa drinks brandy and ginger and I drink Irish whiskey. One can see we have settled with each other, know the course and outcome of the evening, are watching it progress with a certainty that the bartender must also feel. She has mentioned a party, later, that one of the sailors has invited her to. It is pleasant sitting here on this old leather, poking at ice cubes now and then with my finger, tweaking my anticipation. Our conversation has become comfortable and predictable, need hardly be spoken at all. Why Israel? I ask her. The usual reasons, she says. There is a smell about her that I did not expect and cannot quite place. Something like the smell of a field after it has been turned in the spring. The bar is nearly empty. It is strictly for the use of the passengers-and although drinks are very cheap in these untaxed waters, few others are taking advantage of it, and sometimes even the bartender leaves. It seems more like a drawing room than it does a bar, with glass-enclosed bookshelves, maps and charts on the walls, a large nautical clock between the liquor cabinets. |
