This was a stupid idea. Really dumb, I thought.

I’d learned a valuable lesson that night. That lesson was this: trivia was no fun by yourself.

Sure, I got some of the questions. But I missed so many. All ones that I just knew that Rachel could have answered.

And that just made me think of Rachel.

But hadn’t that been the reason I went back to that pub in the first place? I thought it might give me some idea on how to reconnect with her.

Some part of me even hoped that Rachel herself might be there. A silly part. The one that still believed in things like serendipity.

Stan the Quiz King was there again, running the show. He recognized me. Even came up between the first couple of rounds.

“No pretty lady this time?” Stan asked.

“No. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?”

Not that I thought Stan would remember. Still, he took a quiet moment, thought about it, and shook his head. “Sorry, man. In a bit of a rough patch, eh?”

“Something like that.”

“Too bad. I remember you guys. Great looking couple. Think you can fix it?” Stan said.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Don’t worry, if it’s meant to be things will work themselves out,” he replied. The next round started and he left with me a pat on the shoulder.

I couldn’t stay any longer than that. It just seemed so pointless. Sitting there didn’t help me think. Not about a solution, anyway. And Rachel wasn’t there. I threw down a $10 note for the rum and coke that I hadn’t touched and left.

By all rights, I knew, I needed to go back to my office. If I threw myself into work hard enough I could forget about her. Or at least push her back far enough in my mind that I could finally think about something else.

Instead I walked. It was quiet for some reason in the area I found I enjoyed the solitude. I thought I heard something like music coming from somewhere nearby, and I let that guide my feet.

I tried to let my thoughts wander, but they didn’t go far. They stayed mostly on her. I thought of that brief but fateful two minutes at the speed dating. Then at how crazy it was that we ran into each other in downtown Manhattan.

Things like that could make a person believe that there really wasn’t any such thing as coincidence.

Could almost make me believe, that was.

I walked on. It felt good, it felt right. A taxi passed me by. It even started slowing down when the driver saw me. I knew after a while the drivers could tell good fares from bad. Could spot the difference between an Armani jacket and a George from Walmart at a glance.

I thought about raising my hand, hailing him, but I let him pass on by.

That sound that was like music but worse kept growing. I knew the area a little, knew I was getting close to the Village and all the hipster joints there. If it was a bar, I thought I might go in and get a double or triple of something straight. You couldn’t trust those places if you ordered anything else.

Then I stopped. Because I thought I heard something else.

“Help!” Then again a moment later, “Help!”

And something else. A growled, “Shut up!” maybe.

I ran. My heart raced, leaping from sedated to crazy in an instant.

I almost passed the alley by, but then I heard that cry for Help! Again. I stopped short. My eyes adjusted to the darkness.

I saw them then. He had his hands all over her. Every time she tried pushing him away he shoved her back against the wall.

“Just relax,” he said, “You’ll like it. Just relax, damn it!”

She tried escaping again. He shoved her harder, and this time she fell down. He stood over her. He didn’t notice me.

Not when I ran at him. No, he didn’t notice me until I hooked my hands into the collar of his stupid vest.

The adrenaline pounded through my veins. It felt like I’d have no trouble lifting an F150, let alone some skinny hipster looking guy like this.

“Hey!” he started to say.

I threw him against the opposite wall. I threw him hard. The impact slammed the air out of his lungs in one satisfying Oof!

He crumpled. Then started standing again. “Hey man, you don’t understand...”

I don’t know if the shadows in the alley took on a red tinge or if that was just something that came down over my vision.

Then he crumpled to the cracked pavement, chin resting on his chest, and the knuckles on my right hand ached. I raised that fist again, but lowered it when he didn’t get back up.

“Come on, let’s get you out of her,” I said to the woman. It was dark. I couldn’t see her very well. I offered her my hand.

She accepted after a moment and used it to haul herself up to her feet. “Thanks. I don’t know what happened. One second we were talking. The next he was dragging me down this alley...”

She didn’t let go of my hand. I let her hold it while we made a quick walk out of that narrow space.

We reached the light of the street proper. I looked back down the alley and could barely make out the hunched over form that leaned against the wall. I had a feeling he’d be out for a while.

Not that I cared.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I said, “I’ll call someone if you like...”

“No, that’s okay...” she started.

Then we both saw each other. Full on, under the buzzing street lamp.

“Neil?” Rachel said. Her hair was in disarray, and she swiped a collection of loose locks from her forehead.

I couldn’t quite believe it. Not at first.

A cold and sobering thought occurred to me as well: My God, what if I’d taken that taxi?

“What are you doing here?” she said, “I mean, not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, because seriously thank you. But what are you doing here?”

It all hit me again. Normally I wasn’t the sort of guy to kick a man when he was down, but that red haze started descending over my eyes and I turned back towards the alley.

Rachel noticed the set of my jaw, the way my hands bunched up into fists again. She put her hand on my shoulder.

“I’m okay, really,” she said, “I just want to go now, please.”

I took a deep and shuddering breath that did nothing to slow my heart. But the haze lifted. My hands relaxed. My knuckles started throbbing, but I didn’t care.

“Okay,” I said.

Then she took my hand again. My right hand. It hurt, but I refused drop her hand.

Get moving, I ordered myself.

We started down the sidewalk, hurrying at first from the mouth of that alley but slowing by the time we’d gone a couple of blocks.

We came to a more travelled street not long after. I could feel the words building inside of me. All the things I wanted to say to her. I thought she felt the same. We kept glancing at each other, then away.

Another taxi saw us, started slowing. This time I did put up my hand. He pulled a U-turn, cutting off two other cabs, and rubbed the passenger side front tire against the curb pulling up for us.

I opened the back door for her, my right hand resting on top of the door frame.

She looked at me, then back at the taxi. Something wrenched around in my stomach. I didn’t want to let her go, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to make her stay. Not after what just almost happened.

She put her hand on the yellow roof of the cab, then looked at me. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” I said. No hesitation.

“I should go,” she said.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the cabbie watching us over his shoulder. I sensed his impatience. I didn’t care.

“You should,” I replied. My right hand throbbed.

“But you don’t want me to go?” she said again.

“I don’t, but I’m sure as hell not going to make you stay. I want to talk to you, Rachel. I need to. But I’m not going to make you. Never,” I said. My knuckles throbbed again. I wished once more than I’d had another chance to punch that guy. Make my knuckles hurt even more. It wasn’t my fault he had a glass jaw.

She saw my hand, then. Saw the big, purplish bruise already forming on the first three knuckles. “Your hand!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”

She leaned into the cab and said, “Thanks, but no thanks. Sorry to take your time.”

The disappointed cabbie waved her away. He sped away before I even finished closing the door. She immediately took up my right hand, brought it close to her face, and scrutinized the growing bruise. “We need to get some ice on this.”

She’d put some perfume on. This close, I could smell it. It gave me a heady feeling. My heart started racing again.

I wanted nothing less than to gather her up in my arms, bruised knuckles or not, and kiss her. I refrained for obvious reasons.

I looked up and down the street, getting my bearings. “There’s a café up there around the corner. We can sit there.”

Sit and talk was the subtext. I saw from the way she looked at me that she understood. She nodded a moment later and I led us over.

There were a few other people in there, some at the stools, some in the booths that lined the wall that was mostly window. We sat in a booth.

Rachel convinced the waitress to give her a cupful of ice and a tea towel. She wrapped a couple handfuls of ice cubes in the towel and set it gently against my bruised knuckles, her other hand beneath my palm to arch said knuckles up slightly.

“Better?” she asked.

The cold stung at first, but a rapid sensation of relief replaced it. “Much.”

She smiled at me and my heart tried jamming its way up my throat. She held my eyes a moment and then looked down to adjust the icepack on my hand.

“I should have told you everything. I was going to. I asked you out that night so I could tell you,” I said.

“You kept it from me too long. I don’t like sneaking around. I don’t like being someone’s secret,” she replied. Unconsciously, she pushed the icepack down harder. I winced at the sudden pressure.

It was a small price to pay.

“So you never answered my question,” she said, “What were you doing out there? You weren’t... following me or something, were you?”

Stalking, she means stalking, I knew.

“No. I was actually over at that trivia pub. It was fun and I thought it might help me figure out how to get in touch with you again.”

She looked up into my face again, squinting a little this time. “I believe you. Also, I’m not a gold digger. In case you need me to spell it out for you.”

That stung. “I know. I let things go too long. We had something good going, and I thought things might change after I told you everything. I didn’t want things to change.”

“Things don’t always change for the worse, you know. They can also change for the better. I miss you,” she said those last three words so quietly I almost didn’t catch them.

“I miss you, too.”

She looked up at me again, this time not dropping my gaze. “If you care so much, why didn’t you do anything? I know you’re blocked on my phone and everything. But I really thought you might come over. I was willing to talk about it. Why weren’t you?”

I leaned forward so that I could reach out and put my hand over her wrist. “Rachel, I tried seeing you. I tried seeing you that same night.”

She looked at me askance, “No. I was home. I think I would have noticed if you tried to come over.”

“Your friend answered the door. The dark-haired one. Suzy? She told me that you hated me and never wanted to see or speak to me again,” I said.

She tugged her hand out from under mine and rubbed at her cheek with it. “What? My friend Suzy was over, yeah. She answered the door. She said it was a pizza delivery guy at the wrong address.”

I leaned forward some more. By this point, the heat from my knuckles started melting the ice. The tea towel was wet against my knuckles. “Then she lied to you and she lied to me, Rachel... There’s something else. She hit on me. A couple of times, actually.”

I felt relief. It’s all just some misunderstanding. Some jealous friend. I thought we could move forward.

Then Rachel leaned back. She let go of the tea towel. It fell, sending a bunch of half-melted ice cubes sliding along the top of the Formica tabletop.

“No. Suzy’s never lied to me about anything. She’s my best friend! Why are you saying these things?” She crossed her arms, instantly closing herself off from me.

“I’m not lying, Rachel.”

She snarled, “Oh? And why should I believe you? You’ve lied about things before. Why not now?”

I sighed, felt my shoulders slump back against the thin padding of the bench, “I didn’t lie, exactly. I just didn’t tell you everything all at once. This is different.”

Rachel slid out from the booth. She looked down at me. “No, what this is is a waste of time. Thanks again for the rescue. But stay the hell away from me from now on, Neil. Got it?”

I knew what happened. She trusted her friend. She didn’t want to believe that someone so close could betray her like that. She didn’t want to believe but a part of her did and she hated that, and so she lashed out at me, the revealer of said betrayal.

“We can work this out,” I said.

“There is no this,” she said, pointing rapidly between the two of us, “Not anymore. Have a nice life, Neil.”

She stormed out. I watched her go. I wanted to go after her, but I knew that was a bad idea. For now, at least.

She knew the truth, she just had to accept it. But will she?

The waitress came over again, looking at the spilled ice all over the table. As we watched, one cube, sliding in a trail of water of its own making, fell off onto the linoleum. It exploded, the tiny shards melting into puddles almost instantly.

“Well, this is a nice mess,” the waitress said.

“Yes, it is,” I replied.