The Presence of Smoke

“We will see you in an hour.” The voice on the other end reassures me.

I correct them in my mind. It will be at least an hour. The nearest bar looks like a comfortable place to wait.

There’s no sign to know what it is called. The neon lights outside say BAR, with an OPEN sign below it. I enter an old dimly-lit martini lounge. Sinatra would have been at home here. It still retains its charm even though there are clear signs of wear and aging. There is a stage which is mostly empty except for a few expensive-looking chairs. A piano piece plays quietly in the background. It’s something I’ve heard before but don’t remember the name of. Smoke hangs heavy in the air.

“What may I get you, sir?” The bartender asks. He is a handsome man and seems reliable.

“A full glass of whiskey. I want to sip on it.”

“I’ll get you something smooth.”

The next thing I know my drink is in front of me. It is exactly what I wanted.

A woman sits at a booth alone, hidden in the background and dressed exquisitely. Her dress is black with a thigh-high slit in it. She drapes a red silk shawl over herself to be modest. It has a pattern of meandering black lines on it, like smoke.

She takes a long drag from a cigarette holder. It hangs from her lips carelessly and glows on the inhale. Her hair is long and black with tinges of red when the light hits it a certain way. She watches the room with anticipation with her arms stretched out and legs crossed.

“It's time to close up.” The mystery woman says to the bartender.

“Already finishing up, ma’am.” he is at the till doing the closing counts.

The music has stopped.

It takes me a few minutes to sort myself out. The bartender has already finished cleaning up. He waits by the door for me to leave first.

“You can stay.” She says to me from the shadows. “You don’t look like you would get far if I let you stumble out. This is my bar and I am not going anywhere.” The bartender has left.

Her shoes make a solid tap on every step as she is walking towards me. “Let’s talk on the stage. It’s my favorite spot in the place.” I have to look up to her while she helps me walk over. The mystery woman is tall and strong. She could lift me over her head without a problem.

It is when I sit down that our eyes meet. Her eyes are deep blue, almost violet.

“Would you like another drink?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, what are you having?” I start to relax in the comfortable seat.

“Merlot.” She walks towards the well-stocked bar. Her steps tap sharply.

“I love Merlot.”

“This is a good bottle. It’s…” the cork pops, “ a few years old and expensive.” She pours us both a glass of Merlot and hands me one.

“Thank you. It looks perfect.”

I take a sip of wine. She holds her glass by the top and swirls it a few times before drinking. The taste is amazing.

I look up at her again and she has a tail and horns.

Her black horns stick out a few inches and point out to the side. Her dark pink tail flicks up in the air playfully, moving like a snake. It is thick at the base and comes to a round point at the end. It doesn’t quite reach the floor.

I didn’t see them come out. They were just... there after I drank the wine.

"You look scared. I have to relax at the end of the day. It is tiring to hide so long.” She smiles at me.

I look to the rest of the room. Is something in this wine?

Every seat is occupied by a shadowy figure, and all of them are looking at me with a blank expression. None of them move at all. The patrons have the presence of smoke, felt and seen but absolutely silent.

She has a wide grin. “I'll do whatever you want if you finish your wine. Show me who you are. Your real self, not what you think I want. They will drag you into Hell if you lie to me.”

“What is your name?” I ask.

“Sarah, it’s nice to meet you. And you are?”

“Ari. This is a weird way to meet people, Sarah.” I take a sip of wine.

Sarah bursts out laughing. “I suppose so.” She giggles through words. “Is it though? I can at least see who you are like this. How often do people just say what they think someone else wants to hear?”

“Usually not at first, depending on the person. People aren’t always open around strangers.”

“I’m interested in who is sitting across from me, not who they want me to think they are.”

“That’s hard to tell on only a first date. Sometimes you have to really know someone first until you can see who the person is. Sometimes, you won’t even know for years. I don’t even know if I really know who I am still.” Another sip of wine still goes down well.

“That’s a good point. What I mean is we truly want to do something, anything, with a beautiful and wealthy person. We look for someone ideal, even if that person is bad for us. We try to emulate being that ideal so that others will want to be with us. That gets in the way of us understanding ourselves, and other people understanding us. This act takes over our lives in every choice we make.”

“I did not choose this. I am at your mercy. Why would you do this to anyone?”

“I don’t see a lot of new faces. I am lonely and I don't like having to scrutinize every detail about someone if they want to hurt me for being a demon. Or use me as a woman.” She gives a light tug on a horn and rolls her eyes. ”I am a person, not a power fantasy. Everyone forgets that my horns are sharp. If I let them, or even worse, enjoy it then I am labelled a slut. I know people can be dishonest. I have to protect myself.”

I take a hesitant sip of wine. It burns a little bit. Sarah smiles and drinks. She looks up at me from the top of the glass. I can feel that look in my chest. That look is more deadly than anything else in the room. I have a strong attraction to women who might kill me on purpose. I don’t know why I am this way. Some people would say that is a problem. I don’t disagree with those critics.

“It must be difficult to be this way.”

“The demon part is easy. I can usually tell who will have an issue with it and I avoid them. I cannot hide the fact that I am a woman as easily.” She looks sadder now. “Women are supposed to just ignore the random stranger who bumps into me a little too hard or another who yells something rude. I am expected to keep smiling.”

“The outside world is also hostile to us having to be who we are, hiding becomes automatic, a defense mechanism.”

“You can’t hide here, no matter what you do.” She rests her chin in her hand and looks at me intensely. The cigarette in the holder never seems to go out, no matter how much she smokes it. It glows on the inhale. “What do you think about love?”

“Love is complete surrender. Love is being able to be comfortable with yourself enough so someone else can see who you are. Love is being comfortable enough with someone else so that you can surrender them without fear. You don’t need to hide.”

“And if one were hiding, they could not surrender. They would have to keep up the lie.”

“Either one would hide to protect themselves, or to keep their true self hidden to deceive the other.”

“I am showing you who I really am in front of you even though that makes me vulnerable. These ghosts offer me safety. You are unable to hide from them if you wish to take advantage of me.”

“You could learn to trust people after some time. People aren’t completely open right away but that doesn’t mean they won’t be. That doesn’t mean they want to use you.”

“This reveal of my true self is inevitable. There is always that first time that is uncertain. Even some of those that have loved me as a human have hated me when they knew I was a demon. The first time is best to be who I truly am. I don’t wish to hide or manipulate someone to ultimately destroy them either.”

“I might only do what you wanted because otherwise I would lose my life.”

“If you kept that from me, they would consume you. I might be wrong for showing who I am to a person who would hate me. It would have been better that I didn’t show you who I was. That I left you alone and kept hiding. It isn’t worth killing you to show you who I am.”

“What is the crowd? Who are they?”

“I have lived for hundreds of years. They are the ghosts of those who loved me. I may have had a childhood and a family, and I can’t remember them anymore. They may be here with us now.”

“What makes you happy?”

“I love to sing. Most people hate my singing. I can’t change my voice, no matter how much I try or how long has passed. That's why I stay after everyone else goes home. Only those who join this audience like hearing me sing.” Sarah gestures to the shadows in their seats.

I finish the glass of Merlot. We look at each other in silence and know that everything is okay.

“What do you want me to do?”

"Would you show me how you sing, Sarah?"

She smiles and stands up. “I’m glad you asked, Ari.” She turns on a nearby record player. Her voice has a wavering pitch. It's not good, but it isn't bad either. There's joy and kindness in her voice. She is truly enjoying it, a demon, singing an old song that no one remembers at 3 a.m. with no one but myself and the ghosts to listen. They seem happy.

Sarah is afraid of being herself. Her true self, horns, tail, unskilled singing and the expectation to be someone other than who she is. Ultimately she must be who she is. She cannot hide her true self forever to anyone who knows her personally. The guise of perfection cannot last.

I listen to one song. I am smiling and I want to cry. Sarah walks to me and gives me a hug. I haven’t been hugged in a while. She feels nice and holds the right way.

My ride's here. “I’m glad you chose me to see who you are.”

“You were a good choice. If you worried about how good they were for me and had compared yourself to them, then they would torment you from now on. You would try to act better than them. There was no way for you to know. You wouldn’t know what the truth was. It would only be your own imagination. It wouldn't be my life, but what you thought I was.”

“I can’t pretend to be what you want, if I don’t know what you want.”

“Come back again and I will be here.” Her horns and tail are gone. The crowd is gone. When I get to the taxi, she is gone.