Friday:
"I thought you opened up at 6am? It's 6:15, and I was outside freezing my ass off"...
"I was taking a shit" said Paulie. "Fuckin' sue me".
"Bushmills?"
"Naw", I replied, "my guts are still hurting from last night... A red eye will suffice". Paulie, pours a
chilled mug two/thirds Budweiser and tops it with tomato juice... "Tabasco?" "fuck no" I said,
"what part of guts and hurting do you not comprehend" Paulie cracks a slight grin of either
empathy or annoyance... It's too early and I'm too hungover to tell. "What's up your ass, Bubba"
Paulie said... Now I know he smiled with annoyance. I hate being called Bubba... Bubba means
the exact white equivalent of Nigger... And Paulie knows this... Everyone knows this. When I get
drunk and I hear that word, I tend to go off into rants about hating that word... But I still use the
word Nigger... Not out of racism... Just love the sting of the word... But I guess that is the karma
of it all... When I hit their annoyance buttons, I get called Bubba... You would think I would have
learned by now. But if I was a learned man, would I be in this bar at 6am? Everyday? Nope...
But here I am, first one everyday.
"so how'd you fare last night, Bubba" Paulie asked. "Ok Paulie, I started off "so I am a bit on the
shit side of things, can we drop the Bubba"? "and last night was about the same, bought too
much booze, smoked way too much, and went home and stared at the ceiling until the world
slowed back down to its normal revolution". "I thought I would make a new change today, but...
Today is not a changed day. So here I sit before you at this ungodly hour, just to make your life
hell..." I slowly drink my red eye and watch as warehouse men and women come in after their
shift and the recreational alcoholics stop in before work. Blue collar, white collar alike... They all
make a brief appearance. They know me by recognition alone. I don't talk to them and they
return the favor... Our dialogs consist of head nods or heads shaken in distaste if I turn to them
just in time... The only words may be a "thank you" if one of Them buys a round for the house...
And sometimes a grumbled "fuck you" from either side can be heard as well... But for the most
part its just their discussions of sports, wives, husbands, lies, and of failing dreams backed by
the jukebox, rounds ordered, and the slamming of the glass on the table when they have had
their fill.
"Ah! It seems I won't be doing this shift alone" I said out loud, as Allan walks into the bar. "what
time did you make it out of here last night" I asked him... "Fuck if I know, but you were still here
when I did". Anthony said right as he was ordering his first beer. "You were eyeballing what's her
face and going into bouts of your normal internal dialogs and what not"... "you were pretty
glazed when I did leave. What time did you get out of here? and did you...?
" Fuuuck no", I stopped him mid question. "I have no idea what time I got out of here either".
"Give us what he's havin', Paulie" I yell down the bar... And we sort out our day, quietly...
Listening as the city begins to wake up. The sun through the establishment door is very harsh
this time of morning... Everything is... But it get's better the more you intake. That or you just
forget how harsh it can be out there as you begin to deal with the shit in your own personal head
space.
How does one show up this early after drinking til the clock stops being paid any attention?
Naps during the day, haunting heartbreak stories, and lots of heart burn. One comes in still
haggard from the night before, thus the liquid breakfast. Tomato juice is healthy. Beer is
healthy... Well drinking beer in moderation is, but we all gave up on moderation a long time ago.
So we are hopeful that the tomato juice holds up its end of the nutrition pyramid. Jerky, tacos,
pizza, and the deli at the store where they have day old greasy Chinese food, that pretty much
makes up the rest of any nutrition we might need. Oh and White Russians... They look like milk,
so in my eyes it's just as sufficient.
Why we got here, is another question and usually follows the how's ... But I assure you there is
no exciting answer. Any answer we gave would probably mirror what we do now. To most it is an
absolute drab existence. But it is as full of joy, laughter, loss, and wants as any other life's
story... Ours is just a bit more centralized. No fanciful excursions to far off exotic lands. Nope..
From our individual doors to this door, to the jukebox, to the pisser... Do we experience
excitement? Oh yea, we get some of that as well... Name one place that serves booze and that
someone doesn't act a fool... And there are always alternative methods of getting fucked up
floating through here... I assure you, those on a mixture have been on the embarrassing side of
the entertainment more often than not... I know all too well...
Fuck, do I.
How do we get our money to live like this? Now that is about the first reasonable question
asked... Most of us are on Social Security for one reason or another. Allan and I, well we have a
long standing here. I use to book shows that kept the bar open in lean times, and Allan has
been coming here since he was a kid with his father and his family were almost family with the
original owner and the fact that he has pretty much trained every bartender in the place as they
came in. We run an occasional errand and grab a case or two, haul out trash during busy times
and throw out any novice drinker who has overstayed their welcome, and for all that and the
time served here they tend to overlook our bar tab. We know not to pull a drink for all my friends
and they forget that we owe them money... Pretty simple and very helpful when you are drinking
your last years away... We call it a mission now. No cheating, like suicide... But it's an unspoken
race to see who goes out first.
Today is Friday, so I know this is going to be one of those long haul type nights. “Hey Allan, I
gotta few errands to run, you gonna be here tonight?” I know the answer is yes, but because we
are fond of the drink doesn't mean we can't still act polite. And those errands means take a nap
and sleep it off. I have reintroduced alcohol to my hungover system. I'm not feeling hung, just
slightly buzzed, not yet drunk. Ideal for sleeping a few hours and to wake up normal. Normal-ish
is probably a better phrase. Allan yells out, “yep, I will be here with balls on”. “Hey” he adds “you
hear who is back in town”... “Kelly ”...
“Fuck!” I said in my head, probably slipped out a little too, because I hear Allan laughing as I exit
the premises... “Kelly”, I mumble out loud on the sidewalk, “so much for that fuckin' nap”
Kelly, is a right piece of work. All girl on the outside... and has class... Beautiful in her time, and
still is in my opinion, well she was last time I saw her.. Not much could happen in that time,
what's it been, five years. But with her, who knows... Then you get to know her... That girl knows
how to put em away, both booze and men. She may seem your average just-past-her-prime
professional citizen and part time alchy, but I assure you, if you get inside her “social circle”, the
woman will say and do things that would make a veteran hooker blush. Some of which, you
would definitely have to pay extra for. She had her heart broke once, badly... Johnny or Donnie,
something like that... But ever since then, she has dismissed plenty a good man... I was one of
them at one time. Another man with good intentions... That is probably my only endearing
quality left... Good intentions. I wish I could honestly say, “but that was then...” But... Well, I
guess I settled with alcohol and she chose a ghost.
Yep, a real piece of work. We both are...
The pining dies down some over time, especially when mixed with whiskey and filtered through
ice. It is strange how I still get so lost in thought over her or else I would have thought to head
back towards my place to catch that nap. Now, I am heading who knows where, lost in thought...
“Fuck the sun is bright!” snapping me to as I said it out loud. The sun and my own voice caught
me unguarded. I need to get my head on straight and turn around and head back to my place. I
walk past the bar, flipping Allan off... He starts laughing again. He loves this shit. He loves to see
me squirm when she is around... He brings up her name just to watch the pallor fade from my
face as my brain fills back up with memories. Yes, you could say I still have a thing for her.
“Fuckin Kelly”... I mutter in my exhaled breath as I open the door to my studio apartment...
“Fuckin Kelly...” as I fall into my bed to get that much needed nap.
My initial hunch is already proving to be correct, tonight is definitely going to be a long Friday
night.
Friday Evening:
Walking into the bar fresh from a nap, I get my first drink of the day. First real drink. Proper
drink... Bushmills on the rocks with a slight splash of water. The first whiskey of the night is the
harshest so I always have the water added. I see that some of the regulars are in their usual
spots up and down the bar. Playing catch up with the same faces everyday is a bit tedious. We
are at the same bar everyday, the same time... What ever story they have to tell is the same
thing we saw. There are a fewe who do have somewhat of a life, well ties to a real life that is...
They sometimes fill us in on what use to be... Take Jimmy for instance, he was married twice,
has 3 kids... All of which are in the late teens or better. His oldest is in college. He is proud of his
children's accomplishments, though he has been almost completely removed from their lives
with the exception of the rare holiday card or sometimes when he gets too drunk and
sentimental attempts to call where he gets pieces of his past life within the realms of an
argument that leaves him quiet the rest of the night. The same rings true to a few of others,
Tom, Steve, Jason... Their stories aren't so different. Varied just slightly... But like the rest, the
stories aren't that different to really make a fuss about. Me, I never married, no kids, my father's
lineage stops with me. Never saw a good reason to continue what my father started anyways.
Then there is Old Bill, how he made it this far is beyond any of us. We all wait to see his usual
barstool empty every time we come in... But there he is. I am sure he has a story to tell but he is
so far gone upstairs you can't make out much what he says... The bartender knows what he
wants. Bartenders are taught that from day one. Cuba Libra, the lime was added because we all
felt he needed his vitamins in some form... But yes, a rum and coke is all he drinks, with the
exception of the holidays he will have a shot of Old Granddad. We humor Bill, when he laughs
we all laugh, but none of us ever have a clue as to why. Even Allan, who's been here since he
could get up on a barstool. He can't recall Bill in any other time or light There was never a
golden era for Old Bill as far as any of us know... He has been this way since I was coming in on
rare occasions, and now that I am a fixture... It's still the same. Same seat... Same Bill.
8pm, Allan walks in. He is looking as fresh as roadkill. You can see the scars from his youthful
piercings about his face and ears. No real reason to get all dressed up when his date is with me
every night he always says. It's true. We don't have any reason to get dressed up anymore. Its
always a party here we joke, but really... Its just a matter of time... “Yep there's Bill” Allan says...
“Then it is a party tonight and not a Wake”. He can come across as cold sometimes, but I know
he would be pretty tore up if Old Bill wasn't there. Old Bill is kind of like an anchor to his youth.
As long as Old Bill is there, Allan is still a spry buck.
“So, you seen her yet” Allan pipes in... “Fuck you Allan”, I said. “I am sure she will be in soon
enough and then you can have your fun at my expense”.
“I'm just bustin your balls, Pookie” Allan sings out... “I know, I know... I got your first round, what
are you having”.
“Old Bill's preference sounds perfect, um but without the garnish”.
I think that is another thing Allan fears, when Old Bill is gone, he will be Old Al. They pretty much
drink the same thing throughout the night. I can still get him to do shots of Bushmills with me,
and he has his beers in the morning, Bacon and Eggs as he calls it... But its only a matter of
time before he assumes Old Bills throne. Rosy, the evening bartender sets the rum and coke in
front of Allan, as I respond, “there you go your majesty...”
“Fuck you” he mutters with half a grin. He knows exactly what I mean.
“So did you drink too much and get lost this morning when you left”, Allan mocks. “No, dick” I
fired back. “I just thought I was gonna get something to eat before I slept some of my life off”.
“Hmmm, that would be the first time in how many years?” He knows me all to well, but he will
not let situations to call my bullshit pass or without a proper ball busting. We have known each
other for far too long. He knows just about every weakness I have, and he is not afraid to exploit
them to give himself a good god damn giggle. I can't say I don't do the same to him. Out of the
rest of the riff raff in this place I associate with, Allan I have known the longest, and like then as
now, always has been one of my closest confidants.
As 9pm rolls around, the crowd is filling the place pretty well. The jukebox is up louder than
most nights to accommodate the group now gathered in the place. As I notice that, something
inside stirs, like a cold chill running through my spine... I instinctively turn to the door expecting
some sort of altercation with the guy checking ID and some rowdy novice... But no... Worse, not
trouble for the door guy... For me... It's Kelly... And she hasn't changed a bit, and I realize at that
exact moment again neither have I, not inside my head anyway. Allan sees my face and
immediately cracks a big shit eating grin. “It really is a party tonight...” He sees Kelly and
chuckling says, “even better, a reunion”. “Hey Rosy, he needs a shot of Bushmills please...” he
calls out and turns to me and quietly says “and a set of balls”... “Fuck off...” I grumble to Allan as
Kelly walks up. “Kelly, why... er How are you”... I stammered like a nervous grade school boy.
She knows I am still uncomfortable after all this time, and in her grace, I would assume, or
maybe like Allan likes to see me squirm... She gives me a big hug and tells me she is fine, and
that she is only in town for the weekend to finalize some personal business.
“I am here to get caught up and to see if I still have what it takes to last the night with the likes of
Old Bill” she says in her sly cocky nature... “Man, Bill is still alive? Pretty soon that will be you
Allan...”
“Hello to you too Mary” Allan says with his charming smile. I laugh... As uncomfortable as I am, I
love it when Allan gets fucked with... and it sort of sets me at ease.
“What are you having” I ask Mary, as if I didn't know... Rosy already has the drink poured. Some
people are never forgotten around here no matter how long they're absent. Mary is definitely
one of those faces.
“On the house”, said Rosy as she set her drink in front of her. “ah yes, this place still has all it's
uplifting charm”... Mary said with her usual sarcasm as she looked around the bar with approval,
“I am glad this place doesn't change. It's comforting like an old lover or an old friend”... I agree...
but taste the sting of the last bit. I always have a tendency to over think things and read things
into something said... And lover and friend I read into and concluded she is definitely referring to
me as the latter... She always has. I always wanted to be with her, but it never worked out in the
grand universe of things... And I have thought about that ever since. She's not the reason I'm
always here, but it definitely helps assure my decision. But she is here again, and I am not
about to ruin the night with my wishful nostalgia and my bullshit...
I try to remain in the act of some obvious attempt at Stoicism in her presence. I also know that
tonight I need to avoid getting too shit faced so I don't lose it and cave in and confess my
adoration of her... That I still hold a flame for her... but even Allan knows what I am really
thinking. He looks over at me and how I am desperately trying hard to not blow the act in her
presence then just looks back into his glass as he finishes the drink and silently laughs to
himself... Voltaire said, “Its hard to free fools from their chains they revere”. And no truer words
have been spoken... and I am, indeed... a fool.
Saturday:
Saturday morning, a day I actually am able to sleep in for some reason. During the week, I am
up at an unholy hour regardless how much I drink... Today, 11am. Not drinking my usual fill also
allowed for a regular sleep. “I should remember that”. I tell myself as I get up out of bed... “And I
didn't make an ass of myself” feeling almost triumphant. I remind myself of how last night could
have been worse. I then remind myself that every time she is around I end up drinking too much
and end up speaking of how I feel and how I wish things could have been and could be... I
remind myself, I'm a dedicated drunk and she exists in the real world, with a real life, with a real
job... A museum curator. I know fuck all about art, what would we have discussed all these years
anyway... The guys at the bar are sick of hearing my diatribes by the end of the night. Seriously
how could I have a conversation with the same person for all those years... The self-deprecation
allows me to put myself back into my normal routine and mindset as I prepare for the daily ritual.
I wash my face, throw on the least offensive smelling clothes and head down to the bar.
“Coffee please Paulie” I spout as I walk through the door. Paulie pours a cup with a look of
confusion, then gets a look of remembrance on his face and smiles as he sets the coffee in front
of me. “What did you do??? Why you all smiles all of a sudden?” Paulie says nothing, just turns
and walks down towards the other end of the bar to read the morning's paper. As my eyes follow
him back in my own confusion, I see an empty table with a cup of coffee on it with a book and
laptop... “what the” I ask using the voice inside my head and that exact moment from the back
room where the restrooms are, out walks Mary and sits down at the table. I walk over and sit
down bidding a good morning. She smiles over at me, pleased to see me, but can also see that
she has other things on her mind. “Personal business, huh?” I inquired... “yes” she confirms. “I
am finally filing the papers for my divorce. That is why I am here. We have been separated for
two years already, and since my lawyer is here I wanted to come into town to talk with him. He
agreed to see me this afternoon so I came here for coffee, to finalize some particulars and to
get my head together...” “Plus” She added, “this little bar was always a home away from home
when I lived here before”. Good memories and good friends still haunt this place. so even after
all this time, it is still home”. I smile at the warmness of the comment and the sentiment.
“So when did you get married?” I asked, “and too who”... “I hope you don't mind my prying”. She
looked up with a slight smile, “no you aren't prying and it was a guy I dated for a year got
married too soon and left not soon enough. I met him at the museum. He came in a did a
speech while on a speaking gig for his book, and we sort of hit it off... Then a few years later, I
hit the road... Nothing too exciting about the story at all... Nothing worth mentioning anyway.” I
felt bad for her, even in my selfishness, I knew she was bummed about that whole situation.
“well hey”, I start, “I will let you to your business... Are you coming down tonight?” “Thank you...
and yes I will be back tonight” she answered. The last part made my heart feel warm then panic
set back in... I knew that tonight, I wanted a repeat of last night, meaning I didn't make an ass of
myself... But there also rides that magical hope sensation... I excuse myself and said my
farewell to Paulie and headed back to my apartment to do some laundry and make myself
somewhat presentable for tonight... Yes, the perpetual hope-fool.
Saturday Evening:
Saturday night rolls in, I, showered, donning clean clothes , clean shaved, enter the bar in good
spirits. Allan greats me with “Look at you... You like like a right fagot”... “Thanks Sweetie” I call
back. “Bushmills Rosey”. Mary makes her entrance all smiles... She calls out “Its as good as
done”, Allan looks perplexed... “she answers before he even asks... “My divorce”. Allan still in a
haze... I look at him, “I'll explain later”...
“Rosey can I get the usual sailors a round of drinks”... Allan chimes in, “you definitely need to
get divorced more often... “ Then looks at me...
“I will explain later”... I re-state.
She settles in and throws her shot back and orders another... “Whoa!” I exclaim... And they're
off”... Easy killer you've a long night ahead of you... Her face went from celebratory to almost
sullen. She looks over at me ans says, “I would like nothing more than to drink with you all until
the sun comes up... But I have a relatively early flight tomorrow... And...” She pauses...
“And?” I inquire...
Um yeah, I know I said I was in town to finalize my divorce... But I also wanted to come say
good bye”.
“good bye” Allan and I said simultaneously...
“yes”... She began... “I took a job on the east coast at another museum” I have to finish up some
business at the old museum before I head out... So I knew this was the only opportunity I could
have to come say good bye... The Lawyer could have been dealt with anytime... but yeah... I got
a better job”.
Allan senses the mood has changed and quickly points at my shot glass.
I start to ask the billion questions that filled my head, but before a single word exited my mouth,
Kelly got up and walked over to the jukebox... I look at my drink, then down it... Holding up the
empty shot glass, I say to Rosy, Last call, make it a double please”...
She sees the look in my face, and grabs the bottle and pours then sets the bottle within my
reach... they all know my story... As I start to drink my shot I here the somber horns of “Ruby's
Arms” come out of the jukebox... I turn and look and see Kelly signaling me over to dance with
her.
As the song begins to come to a close, with the feeling of the whiskey taking over my brain
mixed with the scent of her hair next to my face... I moved in to give her a kiss... I knew it was
now or, well it had to be now...
Kelly tightens up and looks at me with distress mixed with sympathy... I apologize. I fucked up
and by the looks on everyone's face... They all knew I fucked up too... And not even Allan was
smiling this time.
“Kelly, I am so sorry... I...” She stopped me and said look... It was good to catch up and I have to
get to sleep... Tomorrow is... I interrupt, “I am sorry... ”
“I know you are sorry and...” she stopped … then finished “look, we had... we... Hey I 'll tell you
what, meet me for coffee here in the morning... 11am... But I should go...” All dialog was lost in
this awkward mess I started... Or finished the night with, rather...
I did it again I thought to myself. I fucking did it again...
Kelly turns and walks out of the bar...
Sunday:
I walk in and meet up with Kelly, she feeling a little groggy from the night before and sipping at
an Irish coffee.
I start to apologize again and she stops me , “It was good seeing you again” she says . “ I do
wish we could hang out more and get all caught back up on missed times... But my cab is
already here and my flight leaves this afternoon and so I have to go”. She said...
“I did miss you” she said as she got up to go.
“I miss you Kelly” I responded... “I aways have...”
I walk her to her cab and we give each other a hug. “I wish... “ I stop myself... “Good luck”, I
finish.
I watch as the cab rolls away, I turn and head back into the bar... “Bushmills”... I ordered...
“Double... and a set of balls...”
As I set the empty shot glass on the bar, and while ordering another, I proclaim,
“Today is not a changed day”.
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