my sleepless nights
are her dangerous days
same stars

radio voices
drift into the summer night
me and dad

morning after—
the mirror
scolds me

different morning
same mistake
lies next to me

My bar, my little slice of heaven in Boston, is pretty quiet on the weekdays. The regulars come in, but that’s because they’re…regular. I know their life stories, seen their kids’ pictures a thousand times and know that their spouse is the one who did them wrong. There’s one common theme with all of them, though. One common phrase that’s slurred at the end of every life tale: “I don’t regret it! No sir, I sure don’t. I’d do it all over again and I wouldn’t change a thing.” It could be alcohol talking, but they’re pretty convincing. One day, though, a new patron stopped in. It was a Tuesday night, about 8, and she was gorgeous. Tall, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked about 27 or 28, clutching a designer purse and her perfectly manicured fingers slapped a 5 down on the counter as she slipped onto the barstool.
“Jack on the rocks.” She commanded. I was startled by the decision and replaced the beer pilsner I had initially grabbed. I was normally pretty good at reading people and their drink selection. I slid it to her and studied her face. She was young, but there was age to her. She wore no ring, but she seemed tied to something. I wanted nothing more than to ask her what in the hell she was doing here, but I said nothing. I took a step back and pretended to be uninterested.
“I’m a fashion designer in New York.” She whispered, twirling the glass and staring at the ice tinkling in the bottom. “I make six figures a year and Nicole Kidman just bought one of my cocktail dresses. I can get into any club in the city and my apartment overlooks Central Park.” I raised an eyebrow at her and let out a long, low whistle.

“So, what are you doing here?” I inquired. A smile played at her lips, but quickly disappeared.

“I drink on this night every year.” She replied. I waited for her to go on. “I’d give up everything I own and all the things I’ve worked for to go back to this night 10 years ago. I was 18 and my boyfriend was 20. Neither of us was ready for a child. Or, at least, that’s what I let him think. I think maybe I would have liked to have a daughter. Anyway, he convinced me…it wasn’t as painful as I thought it was going to be. And it was quick. We were only at the doctor’s office for about 45 minutes.” Tears were forming in her eyes, but she held them back with a deep breath.

“He left me eventually and I moved to New York to pursue my dream. Well, I accomplished my dream. I made it in the big city and…and I hate every minute of it. I made a decision, we all make choices, and we have to live with them. Some people say that regret is a useless emotion.” She downed the rest of the Jack and grabbed her purse. “For me, it’s the only emotion that keeps me from getting lost in my dream life in New York. Regret is reality.” She stared at me for a second with those deep blue eyes and turned to leave. I never saw her again, but from then on, every year on that night, I drink a Jack on the rocks, to regret.

unborn daughter—
ten years later
drowning in Jack Daniels