SWITCH---Part 1

Arnold sat at the bar on his fourth drink. He felt the buzz and watched as his friend whom he came in with sit down next to a rather attractive honey-blonde girl in her booth with her friends. He had no idea what they were saying.

"Hi."

He looked to his left. A pale yet good-looking brunette had sat down beside him. "Hi."

"Let's get a booth."

Arnold moved toward an empty booth almost directly in back of him. He took one side, the brunette the other.

"My name is Cheryl."

"Hi, Cheryl. I'm Arnold." He suddenly remembered her. She had gone up to the bar a few times previous to order drinks, and he watched her---in her tight jeans and purple sweater. She looked pretty nice.

"I'd like to ask you something."

Arnold stared into her brown eyes. "Go ahead." This seemed the promised escape he searched for. The alcohol did not work that well, but a good-looking girl seemed just the ticket. Escape from his classes at the college. Escape from all his worries.

"You are an attractive man. Are you a college student here?"

"Yes."

She smiled, looked at her drink, then up again. "Would you like to get together?"

"Sure," he said, hearing himself blurt it out before he thought. Sure he would, wouldn't he? Of course. His last girlfriend had faded to almost black and white in the three years between their separation, and he knew he could use something now.

"I like you. I gotta tell you a few things though."

The rest of the bar--the rest of the world--stopped as Arnold perked his ears to hear this easy opportunity present itself.

"If we get together, well---you don't have to worry about anything. Nothing with diseases, or any trouble, like relationship problems, or anything. I just want some fun."

Arnold leaned closer.

"It's all safe. See, I'm married. My husband is, well, there's nothing there now. I want to live more. I've been with him for 10 years, so you know, it's all good. I'm clean. Now, I'm not going to give you a number, but I will be here next Wednsday night, same time. If you show up, we can go out. If we go out and I fall for you, it's my problem. Not your's. What do you say?"

"Yea," Arnold spat out in spite of the sudden tightness in his guts. Suddenly, his relaxed, happy expectations pulled in on themselves and left him feeling uneasy.

She reached across the table and touched his hand. "Okay then." She smiled, stood, and walked away.

Arnold watched her for a second, then closed his eyes. He stared down at the table.

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