completely empty. Dave allowed his pupils to adjust to the dim lighting as he shrugged off the chilly mist he brought in with him.
He was breaking his schedule. Dave wasn’t the type of man to drink this early in the day, even if it was a weekend. But considering he missed his drink last night because of unforeseen circumstances, he didn’t feel too guilty about making up for lost time. This was the only place he felt comfortable going today to be able to be alone and think.
It was then that Dave noticed the inexplicable. It was so ridiculous, too fitting, that he actually laughed out loud. After how yesterday had gone, he was unsurprised to find himself facing another obstacle—a man already sitting at his table—the only other customer in the entire place.
Dave approached him carefully, feeling suddenly that this must be some sort of sign. He was not a superstitious man by any means, but after living with Georgette for five years, he’d learned to appreciate an odd circumstance when experiencing one. Perhaps he was supposed to meet this man.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
The man looked up through heavily bagged eyes. His gaze was watery yet intense, his skin sallow and cracked. He must have been in his seventies, or just lived a particularly hard life. Dave was a regular, and yet he had never seen him in here before.
The man nodded, gesturing to the seat across from him as he straightened up, much like an ancient sea creature awakening from a long undisturbed slumber.
Dave had no idea why he was engaging with this man. On a regular day, he would have sat at another table, or slouched up to the bar. He never really conversed with anyone there, only Ruth to put in his order and an occasional ‘hello’ to whatever bartender was working. Something seemed to be pulling him towards this peculiar man. Dave was curious.
“I’m Dave,” he began.
“Name’s J,” the stranger croaked out in a voice that sounded as if it hadn’t been used for centuries.
“Just J?”
“Yup.”
“What are you drinking, J?” Dave asked as he looked around for Ruth.
“I can’t afford to drink. Came in for a bit of warmth, that’s all.”
“Well then, pick your poison and we’ll both get warmed up.”
Dave knew instantly he’d done the right thing. This man was alone, with probably no family—he certainly looked very poor if not completely homeless. The least Dave could do was buy him a drink. Why else would he come into a bar for comfort?
“Really?” J asked eagerly. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course,” Dave motioned for Ruth just as she came through the backdoor in a cloud of cigarette smoke. “What’ll it be?”
J cocked his head to the side and scratched his jaw, deep in contemplation.
“Whiskey. Neat. Double if you don’t mind.”
Dave put in their orders with Ruth while he enquired about Shawn and Mara. Ruth explained Mara’s mother died and the two were out of town for the funeral. Ruth was running the place until they got back.
“Not that it’s been particularly busy, but Stan quit last week, so I’m trying out a new bartender,” she complained as she headed over to the bar to fill the order. “Who, by the looks of it, “ she frowned as she grabbed a note taped to a half empty vodka bottle, “took off early! Typical, am I right? If you know anyone send ‘em over, yeah?”
“Will do,” Dave replied.
Dave and his drinking partner sat in silence while Ruth quickly put the order together and returned to the table.
She looked down at the drinks and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a buzzer coming from the back of the establishment.
“Oh damn, I forgot we were getting a delivery today. Ugh, if you need anything else, just help yourself, hun. I trust you.”
And she was gone. Dave turned back to J and lifted his glass.
“Cheers.”
“To your good health.” J sucked the drink down in one shot.
Dave took a sip of his beer, enjoying it even more than he would have yesterday. A sense of calm descended over him as he sat there, contemplating this man. But before Dave could settle on any one question to ask him, J interrupted his thoughts with a query of his own.
“Are you a tired man, Dave?” Before Dave could reply, he continued on, “I’m a tired man, and I know what one looks like. Staring at you right now, for me...it’s like a reflection.”
Dave’s expression must have shown doubt and surprise because J laughed boisterously.
“You’re handsome no doubt, hope you never look like this old bag. What I mean is your eyes. I can see the same worry that I had when I was your age.”
“Worry? What am I worried about?” Dave asked with a little skepticism in his tone. This man didn’t know anything about him.
“You’re overworked.“
Dave contemplated this. He worked the same as any average citizen. He shook his head in disagreement. “I have a regular nine-to-five.”
But J was shaking his head. “I don’t mean overworked as in your job. Overworked in life. Always the rock, the backbone, the person to take everyone else’s burdens and place them on your own shoulders until you finally crumble beneath the weight.”
Any solid defense that Dave had ready to answer with was blown to pieces as J finished his little sermon. Dave stared numbly at the stranger, wanting to understand how he could possibly know all of that by just looking in his eyes. J smiled with a bit of triumph.
“I’m a lot older than you, kid. I know things.”
Dave started at the man’s words. They were practically the same ones he spoke to Samantha yesterday morning.
“You’re too nice, Dave, I can tell,” J went on as he got to his feet and limped over to the bar to refill his drink. “You hold things in, don’t you? When you’re done fixing everyone else’s problems, is there anyone there to fix yours?”
“I don’t have problems, not real ones anyway,” Dave insisted. “I’m happy, I can handle everything life throws at me. I am utterly grateful for it and I take nothing for granted. If my family feels content and safe, then I can sacrifice a little bit of my sanity in return.”
J nodded as he returned to the table, settling himself back down. “If you say so.”
“And you?” Dave asked after several minutes of quiet thought. “Are you overworked?”
“I’m practically dead! Overworked to death!” J jeered with morbid humor. “God, if I have to make one more decision, I think I’ll just end it all.”
“That seems drastic.”
“Does it?”
“Where will you go after this?” Dave asked before he could stop himself. He could hear his wife in his ear, instructing him to help.
“Back from where I came, I suppose.”
“Do you need money? A place to stay?”—thinking he could at least help this man to a shelter.
J looked angry for the first time, “I don’t need help.”
Dave frowned at him as he threw back the last sip of his beer and got to his feet.
“Well, if you change your mind, just let Ruth know and she will give me a call, alright?”
J nodded and closed his eyes, looking ready to return to his previously petrified state. Dave threw down some extra money on the table and hurried out.
He emerged feeling both disorientated and confused, as if he just traveled down some odd rabbit hole. Hours must have passed since he’d gone into the bar, for any light the day possessed was now extinguished.
Dave could taste the fog on his tongue, feel it pressing against every inch of his exposed skin. Knowing that the house would still be empty, he decided to head across town to Repo Pizza, hoping to get himself a slice and pass a few hours away hanging out with Robb in the back.
But before he could even put his car in drive, he felt a thrill of dread race down his spine. A split second later, his cellphone rang. It was Harmony and she was crying and gasping for air like she did every time she had a panic attack. With a sigh and a longing look back in the direction of the bar, Dave instead drove to his parents, and spent several hours holding his twin in his arms until she finally gave way to sleep.