She kissed him goodbye knowing he wouldn’t remember her tomorrow. He’d been pretty drunk and high not in a sloppy, obnoxious way, but enough that others at the bar had chuckled and made quiet, derogatory comments. Kara had seen him a couple of times before talking to different girls, a young man too pretty to be masculine and yet he had large hands, a snake tattoo on his wrist and a voice that was deep and raspy like a mountain man. She’d walked in the dusty, low-lit neighborhood bar with two older friends who were eager to hear the local country rock band play. She sat quietly bored at a small round table with them, while they talked incessantly about their ex’s, surveying the dance floor for any new guys on the scene.

  

 “You don’t want that one.” A friend said noticing she was looking at the guy at the bar. “A drunk and a druggy.”

    

Kara grimaced, looking away. But then the music stopped and the few on the dance floor dispersed. The sudden quiet in the bar made her anxious. From across the room, she heard his rugged laugh and then he seemed somber, staring past his beer glass and at the empty dance floor. He’s alone, she thought. This was her chance.

She told her friends she was getting a shot and walked away. Across the center of the bar, he glanced at her and she melted. A shock of his pale gold hair hung across his forehead, and he shook his head to push it away. It was time to make her move. When he sensed her at the empty stool beside him a wide, knowing smile crossed his face.

    

“What’s the lady want?” He nodded and motioned the girl behind the bar to bring the Tequila. He seemed impressed that she was drinking more than just beer and watched as she gulped it down, feeling the comfortable burning in her throat. She had to muster courage from somewhere.

    

“I’m Kyle’. He said simply, not bothering to ask her name or continue with the usual pleasantries and awkward introductory phrases. He didn’t mention ever noticing her before, which was disappointing, but the next shot made her feel less rejected. He talked about the band and how he followed them sometimes and loved the Allman Brothers, Creedence Clearwater and Bad Company. She knew he was probably in his thirties but when he smiled, he seemed like a very young boy.

    

Eventually, she had to leave him to address her friends who were waving to her from across the bar. Relieved when the band came on and the dance floor filled up, she returned to the bar stool, happy to sit beside him in silence.

    

“I’d ask you to dance, but I’m a little drunk.” He winked, his soft black lashes brushing his reddened skin. He, too, took a shot and then he reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket and took out a small baggy, fumbling as he retrieved a tiny white pill and popped it into his remaining beer. He noticed her watching him. “Something for the pain,” he said.

    

As the one o’clock hour approached her friends rose to leave and she nodded for them to go without her as she had driven herself to the bar. The lights began to dim; it was time to go. He lived nearby, he said, and wanted to walk home to clear his head. She knew she should have just said ‘goodnight’ and drove away, but she didn’t want the evening to end. Something about this guy was haunting her and she didn’t want to leave him, so she offered to go with him.

    

He put his arm around her as they walked and although the leather of his jacket felt cool, his embrace was warm and comforting. The smell of multiple liquors remained on his breath filling the foggy night air. He had a couple rooms on the top floor of a nearby house and although it was in disarray, there was a beautiful canvas of a desert scene just above the bed. When he turned the small lamp on in the room, she looked at the picture intently.

   

 “Feels like you can just walk in that desert, doesn’t it?” He glanced at her as he took off the heavy jacket. Something told her he already had. Then he took a joint from his pocket and sat on the bed, smoking it. He offered her some, but she declined, hating the smell. His black tee shirt was tight against his firm chest and muscular arms and in the dim light the long strands of his hair light hair shined. His light eyes were now bloodshot from too many drinks and the pot he was smoking. She had no idea what the pill that took the pain away was.

    

As he laid down, she was just drunk enough to lay beside him. His arms were warm and comforting. His lips, slightly full, covered her mouth and were intoxicating. She could have become inebriated just by them alone. He was still beautiful, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She knew she was going to let this happen – the infamous one-night stand. There was no small talk, no television to watch, only a radio playing lowly. She didn’t care. No one was watching them; her friends weren’t around to criticize. He knew nothing about her, nor did he seem to care. His lips on her body were soft and determined. But then he moved to retrieve his joint, taking a drink of whiskey from a bottle on the side table. Desperately, he searched for the baggie again and took another pill. Her body wanting, she waited for him to return. Eventually, he crawled back on top of her, but after a few moments, while she could hear her own heart beating loudly, he was out.

    

Somehow, she was sober. The stench of alcohol and smoke permeated the room. To think he may live like this every night, this sad, beautiful man. What happened to him? What had he left behind?  Kara moved gently from underneath him and in the dim light of the lamp she saw the lines lightly etched in his still youthful face. This was as far as she would go. She would remember this night, but he would wake up remembering nothing.

    

She graced one last deep kiss on his cool cheek before she headed down the steps and into the foggy night.