With an H

Arthur's Tavern. New York City. Every seat in the house is taken. A jazz band so ancient it may as well be called “The Four Joe Bidens” is happily playing its hearts out, or whatever’s left of them. They’re quite good.

Roddy does something he’s not supposed to do. He leaves his designated space.

The obnoxious usher at Arthur's likes to tell people where they have to be and how they should behave. And with the tavern enjoying a recent uptick in popularity, the obnoxious usher has been on a power trip. Arthur's was not always like this. It used to be a free-flowing, fun place where a man could stand wherever he wanted. But not anymore.

This does not sit well with Roddy. He believes in freedom and does not like being told what to do. So he gets up from his seat and approaches a beautiful woman in a white dress sitting at the bar.

"Hey! I love your dress."
"Oh, thank you so much!" the woman says with a smile.
"I'm Roddy by the way," he extends his hand.
"Shweta." She shakes it.

"God I am so nervous," Roddy says as he looks over his shoulder. "Feel like the usher is going to give me a fine or something."
"Well, scoot in."

Sweta makes room for him to stand closer to the bar, out of the aisle.
"Why aren't you just the nicest woman in the world?"
"I can be."

"Oh. So, what brings you to this fine, clearly past-its-prime, establishment?"
"It's funny, I never go out, he invited me." She points to the bartender. Roddy immediately notices two distinct traits.

"Was it the vest or the mustache?"
"Huh?"
"Which one sealed the deal? The vest or the mustache?"
"No! No! We're just friends!"
"It was the mustache, wasn’t it? Anyone can wear a vest.” Sweta laughs.

Suddenly the obnoxious usher walks by. He stops and stares down Roddy. Roddy smiles sheepishly and turns back to Sweta.

"It's like a Mexican standoff with me and that guy."
"Yeah, I'm nervous for you."
"Can't lie to you, I'm nervous too. So where are you from?"
"Originally from Mumbai but I've been in the city for a few years."
"So, New York or Mumbai?"
"As in which is better?"
"Yes."
"That's tough, I'd have to go with New York overall, but I think Mumbai would be better for me. My family is there. Where are you from?"
"New York."
"So, you’re going to stay in New York forever?"
"Oh god no, I like to think of myself as a Bozeman, Montana kind of guy.”
“Montana! Why?”
“Well, you see, I hate people."
Sweta laughs and asks, "Then what are you doing in a place like this?"

"Well, you see, I was actually kidnapped by my two friends over there." Roddy points to a couple sitting down nearby. They wave back. "They're insufferable. They're exactly as nice as they seem. You'd love them."
"Oh, will I?"
"Yup, no doubt about it. As a matter of fact, you should come sit with us."
"Oh, yeah maybe I will. Let me just finish my drink and I'll join you guys."
"Sounds great."

Roddy goes back to his seat to engage in the artful ruse of pretending to have a deep conversation with his couple friends. 20 minutes later, he’s filled with excitement when Sweta gets up from her seat and walks over to the table.

"Hey, I'll be right back. I need some food."
"Cool." Sweta walks out the door. Roddy turns back to his friends. "There she goes into the jungle. I have lost her to the streets."

20 more minutes later, a pleasant surprise. Sweta returns and sits at Roddy’s table. But his enthusiasm quickly wears off. He gets the impression she’s much more interested in talking to his couple friends than she is in talking to him. Classic nice people behavior, but Roddy tries to take it in stride.

Another half hour later, she says she has to leave, Roddy wastes no time getting her phone number. He hands her his phone and Shweta puts it in. Roddy’s not sure he’s interested, but it's always nice to have the option. She touches Roddy on the shoulder as she leaves. Roddy can’t help but notice how her hand lingers.

Fast-forward a few days. Roddy's friend, the one with him at Arthur's tavern, asks if he had reached out to Sweta. Roddy hadn't. His friend is shocked since Sweta was such a nice girl. After giving it a little more thought, Roddy decides to give it a go. Her hand did linger, after all.

He texts and gets no response. Naturally, this makes Roddy firmly interested. Who was Sweta to reject him? He had to get to the bottom of it. He waits a few more days and brings the sauce this time around.

'Hey! I don't normally do this, but I really enjoyed meeting you last weekend. I think you are very beautiful. Would love to get a coffee or drink sometime this weekend if you are free?'

A response within minutes: 'Oh my! Are you free tonight?'

To say that Roddy is flabbergasted would be an understatement.

'I am at a dinner right now, but I'm free after that.'

'So, your place or mine?'

'Whichever works for you.' Roddy’s disbelief prevents him from saying much more. Is this really the sweet, simple Sweta he met just days ago? What a Sauvage!

What follows is a four-word message, both profoundly simple and profoundly confusing: 'Are you in Seattle?'

Before Roddy can process it, his phone rings and he picks up.

"Hello?"
"Hi, who is this?"
"It's Roddy. We met last Saturday at Arthur's Tavern."
"I've never heard of that place."
"What? Are you in New York?"
"No, I am in Seattle."
"Oh. I was out last weekend and a girl gave me this phone number. Sorry about that," Roddy says, accepting defeat. That lingering hand must have been a ruse too.

"Oh, no problem. By the way, I also have a nephew in New York by your name." What?!
"Oh…kay," is all Roddy can think to say.
"Yeah, and he has a dog just like the one in your Whatsapp pictures." Abort! Abort!! ABORT!!!

Roddy blurts out, "Oh, I'm sure it's just a simple misunderstanding. Sorry about that." He can’t hang up fast enough.

He looks at his contacts in pure terror and confirms he had been hitting on his aunt! And to make matters worse, he scrolls further through his contacts only to find....Shweta! It was Shweta with an H! She had been there waiting to be flirted with the whole time!

But it’s too late for that now. Roddy has no other choice. He deletes the conversation, moves to Bozeman, Montana, and hides out in utter obscurity to avoid the shame he brought onto himself. He is now abstinent and goes by Randy.

Back at Arthur’s Tavern, the obnoxious usher notices Roddy no longer occupying his designated space.