Advice in a Bar

“So, what was the big deal?” Gertie asked, eyebrow cocked. I stared at her. The exasperation I carefully tucked away began to surface. I took another sip of my drink, something fruity Gertie had insisted I try. It tasted like Skittles and rubbing alcohol, but I needed the buzz.
“It's not the subject matter. It's the fact that he made no effort to understand. He just said, 'Ok, love,' and moved on like I... like if he fixed it then it was like it never happened. But, on a more abstract level it's the fighting. We fight..,” I paused to take another drink. “At least twice a week sometimes twice a day. I mean, growing up my parents never fought. It just got me thinking... Is that healthy? Am I wasting my time?” I rubbed my temples quietly and looked at my friend expectantly. Gertie was too much like Ron to ever be able to sympathize, but I needed to talk to someone removed from the situation. Gertrude Roberts was my neighbor for the first ten years of my life and we kept in touch throughout the years. She was nearly six feet tall and her father was born in Kenya. She never met him, but she got her looks from him, dark skin, brown eyes and high cheek bones. Her personality, however, was all her mother. Loud, fun and sweet. Gertie was great if you needed someone to party with or to rant to. She truly convinces you she cares either way.
“Do you feel like you're wast-” Gertie said. Before I get the chance to answer, someone walked up to the table.
“Gertrude!” A beautiful woman linked with an equal, but oppositely beautiful man. The woman was tall, blonde and masculine while the man was shorter with long dark hair and feminine qualities. “This is Brian, remember me talking about him? Well, he's here with his friend who has a new jewelry line and I want to introduce you. He's looking for models.”
“Just a sec, I'll catch up,” Gertie waved them off and smiled at me. “I gotta go do this. These are my 'office hours.' I'll be back in no more than thirty minutes.” She pecks my cheek and dashes off.

The best thing about me is that I'm difficult to embarrass. After years of being teased, I've grown into my own skin. I'm okay being the smart girl instead of the fun girl. So, what do I do as Gertie leaves? I pull my notebook discretely out of my bag and start brainstorming for my Muggles and Magic Law class paper. I could have spent my time thinking about my relationship, but as always I took comfort in knowledge where answers are purely logical.
“Hermione?” I jumped a bit at the sound of my name. Standing at my table was a vaguely familiar guy with mussed hair and lanky limbs. “I'm Will. We met at the- I work with Ron,” He revised.
“Oh, right! You're the new office assistant. We met a month or so ago,” I smiled, sipping my horrid drink.
“Not really a place I'd expect to see you, um, alone?” He turned what should have been a statement into a question. Why don't men just come out and say it?
“Oh, I'm not. My friend, Gertie, has abandoned me a bit. She has-,” I checked my watch. “Nine minutes until I run off on her.” He stared at me for a moment before I added, “You may sit and wait with me if you want.”
He sat in the tall chair awkwardly and blushed a bit. “How are you?”
“I'm fine. How are you?”
He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. “You want another drink? I-I'm fine, by the way.” I tried not to laugh, but his uneasiness was both flattering and nostalgic. Ron used to be half as smooth and sometimes he is still so nervous when it comes to being romantic and making gestures. I smiled quietly as I remembered our one year anniversary.
Ron has reserved us a table at some painfully fancy restaurant in London. He spent the whole night fidgeting in his new suit and trying to figure out which utensil to use. That was always one of the things I had loved about him. He cared and you could always tell.
“No, thank you,” I grinned to myself.
Will and I chatted for a few moments. He recovered from his awkwardness and actually was able to make good conversation. I found myself taking a liking to him in that way people do when they remind you of someone you really love. Everything from his impossible lankiness, his boyish mannerism and his social clumsiness was only likeable in that it was derivative. If I were to leave Ron, would I view every potential lover this way? Through old love glasses? Only finding people appealing in the ways they overlapped with my past experiences. Would I be able to stand it? Could I settle for someone I found similar enough to enjoy?
“Can I ask you something personal?” Will said, very serious tones in his voice. I nodded. “What is it you see in Ron? I mean, he's a bit goofy. Why would someone as brilliant as you choose him?” He wasn't accusatory or prying. He was gently curious, as if I could impart some wisdom about love.
It was a hard question to answer, not because I couldn't think of the answer, but because I don't do well with non-finite, illogical questions. Definitions, creative solutions, problem solving I can do, but... this was different. Love isn't logical.
“We love each other and we respect each other. You can't ask for much more, Will.”
He stared puzzled at his glass and, after a moment, he looked up at me and nodded. He approved.

After a while he packed up and I left shortly after him. I looked around for Gertrude, but the bar was getting packed so I just left. The air was cold and I started down the sidewalk. I had made it almost around the corner when I heard my name. “Hermione! Hey, sorry, I-well, I got distracted in your time of need.” She hugged me, guiltily.
“No, it's okay. I talked with a work friend of Ron's.”
“Good,” She smiled at me. “I stopped you because I wanted to finish what I was saying.”
“Okay,” I pulled my coat tighter around me.
“Do you think you're wasting your time with Ron?” Gertie ruffled her short hair in a way that looked familiar and I smiled.
“No, I don't.”
“Then you aren't, 'Mione. Don't worry so much,” She said as she turned back toward the bar. Sound advice, I thought and went home to write Ron.