Trust In Love – James Gallagher

Sobriety

 

She waved her hand over the top of my glass,
as if to push the genie back in the bottle.
We sat in the Sherlock Holmes Public House,
a corny little pub in central London,
not far from the Embankment.
I looked down at the two ales.
She looked up from the two ales wide eyed.
“All these years I have been married to the man I know
who is sitting before me, and he has been sober.”
There was no genie loose in London.
There was no genie loose in me.
“All these years I have chosen to be sober,
only because it was what I preferred,
not because I have a problem.
Here in London, on vacation,
it is not going to change our lives.”
But she saw a genie,
or maybe it was a leprechaun,
perched on my shoulder.
She waved her hand over my glass again
as if it would vanish
like a genie after the third wish was granted.
I smiled.
To make her happy,
I complied:
to make her smile.
The moment had passed, and the genie was back in the bottle.
As it turned out, she tells me the ales weren’t even very good.

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