5 Minute Fiction: If I Could Only

I sat down at the bar, the sea breeze wafting through the place and the sounds of the ocean crashing behind me. It wasn’t crowded. The bartender approached me, and I ordered a mojito. I hoped it was good. I was fussy about cocktail quality.

My drink arrived a few minutes later, and I sipped it, then decided it met my quality standards. I took another sip as the song All Night Long by Lionel Richie came on over the bar’s sound system and turned around on my barstool to watch the ocean.

I was waiting for some old friends from college, who wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow morning. The flight I found had been cheap, even though it got me here a day early, but I decided to take it anyway and just amuse myself until they arrived. Didn’t bother me any.

We had decided a few years ago to take a trip the year we all turned 40. I actually still had a couple months, but for the rest of them, their ages now began with a 4. It was great. We hadn’t all been together in several years.

I was entranced by the sight of the ocean and the sounds of the bar. It was then that my mind finally shut off from all the work I had been doing. It felt like time had slowed, or maybe sped up, or stopped altogether. I was simply here, now.

“If I could only…” a male voice to my right said suddenly. A minute ago, there hadn’t been anyone there, and now a dark-haired man stood beside me. He was about 5’9 and looked to be 28 or 29. “Finish the sentence.”

As I turned to look at him, I realized that he was, in fact, directing that to me. I didn’t know if I felt like answering riddles or whatever this was, but he looked friendly enough.

“If I could only…” I said, looking back at the ocean, “continue to sit here and stare at the ocean and sip this drink.” I didn’t actually mean for that to be rude or standoffish, but I realized it may have sounded like that. “I really mean that,” I said, smiling at him. “That wasn’t me telling you to go away.”

“No, no problem,” he said, chuckling. “You actually look really peaceful. Jason, by the way.” He held out his hand to me, which I accepted.

“Jana,” I said.

“Ahhh, yeah, I actually only talk to people whose names begin with the letter J.”

“Well, apparently, you’ve got a good radar for that.”

He flagged the bartender and sat down on the stool next to me.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” he said, pointing to my drink. “You want another one?” he asked, and I nodded. Then he spun his barstool around so we both had our backs to the bar.

“On vacation?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said as I watched a wave crash on the shore. “With some friends. They won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Me too,” he said, then spun back toward the bar for a moment to collect his drink and mine. “Bachelor party. My buddy wanted to do something big. I got a cheap flight for today, so I came out a little early.”

I wondered if we were on the same flight, and I asked him. He was. We chatted for a while about where we both lived, what we did for a living, and all that stuff. Turns out we lived about half an hour away from one another. Small world.

“Alright, I’ve got another question for you,” he said. “You have a celebrity hookup. Who would it be?”

“Humphrey Bogart,” I said without hesitation. Jason gave me a confused look for a second. “Do you know who Humphrey Bogart is?”

“Yeah, I know who that is,” he said, laughing a little. “He’s like an old movie star. So would the hookup be in black and white then?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Alright, your turn.”

“I have like at least ten of them.”

“Well, just give me one of the ten.”

“Okay, but your answer was interesting and kind of weird, and mine is a really obvious one.”

“Give it to me.”

“Beyonce,” he said.

“Good answer,” I said. “Obvious, but totally solid.”

Jason turned to order another drink, and I focused on the ocean. I realized there was something I had yet to ask him.

When he had stopped talking to the bartender and turned back around, I looked at him.

“If I could only…” I said. “Finish the sentence.”

He looked very serious for a moment, and I wondered what I was about to get out of him. He tapped the fingers of his right hand on his thigh, then turned to me.

“If I could only,” he said and paused, “take a walk with you on the beach after we finish these drinks?” He smiled a little nervously.

“Sure,” I said. “I actually haven’t been out to the ocean yet. And, who knows, we might run into Beyonce.”

“Or Humphrey Bogart.”

“We can only dream,” I said.

“Maybe it’ll turn black and white on us out there.”

“Mmmm. I think I prefer full-color tonight,” I said and watched as the horizon began to turn pink and orange.

Enjoyed this story? Feel free to “buy me a club soda” over on Ko-fi. All support is voluntary and appreciated. Thank you!

Amanda Linehan is a multi-genre fiction writer and indie author. She has published 13 titles since 2012 and has been read in 113 countries. Get a free, exclusive short story, The Sommer House, when you sign up for her newsletter.