"God, I must be drinking," he mumbled to himself as he rummaged through his wallet, in search of his bank card. "Where’d I put the damn card?"
He searched through the wallet for a few more seconds, until it dawned on him that he had placed the card in his right front pants pocket after opening his tab. “Jesus Christ,” he said, as he smacked the card down onto the mahogany bar to pay for his drinks.
The room was quickly becoming empty at this point. The two co-workers sat, her on his left side, two and three seats from the end of the semi-circular bar. The lobby of the restaurant echoed with the sounds of trickling water as the atrium fountain continued into the night. The small 20-inch television over the bar glowed the bright red of SportsCenter, and classic rock music rang softly from the bar stereo speakers.
He brought the beer up to his lips and took a long sip, and then turned to her. "Where were we?"
"I'm pretty sure you were discussing how much of an asshole our boss is," Maureen said.
"Oh yeah." James replied. "Not sure how I could forget that." The words came quickly to his brain, but the filter of alcohol slowed them to his lips. He started work on his fourth drink of the now-long evening, and the fog began to thicken a little.
A mid-40’s businessman in a bad wool suit coat pushed his stool back from the other side of the bar with a loud squawk. He eased himself off of the seat and trudged slowly toward the exit, just as if he’d done it a thousand times before in a thousand different bars. The only other remaining patron aside from the two of them-—a bubbly woman of about 35 years with spiked bangs from an 80’s music video and a royal blue University of Kentucky sweatshirt on-—gabbed intolerably on her cell phone to her "baby," repeatedly telling him how much she missed him and missed home. Not surprisingly, she was nursing a Coors light.
"He just makes me tired all over," James said, finishing up his impeded thoughts on the subject of their supervisor. "I mean, what’s the point of repeatedly beating me into submission?"
"What do you mean?"
"It’s like," he paused as if to clear the words in his head. "I get it. You’re smart. I’m dumb. You’re good at your job. I apparently am not." He trailed off.
"Wow," she mustered. "I knew you were unhappy, but..."
"Maybe I'm just letting it get to me too much," he interrupted her. "I mean, it seems like I'm always the only one doing the complaining. Everyone else seems to be able to work with him just fine, even if they don't like him."
"Yeah," she said sarcastically, and took a sip of her drink. "We sure do."
Silence followed her for about 15 seconds. "What time is it?" she said. "I think I need another drink before I get out of here."
"I’m buying. It’s the least I can do after piling on all of my problems. You’re a saint for putting up with my incessant bitching for the last half hour." He signaled the bartender.
The woman of about 40 in the forced tuxedo came by and took Maureen’s order of a Smirnoff Ice. "Nice cummerbund," he said with a chuckle. The bartender smiled, half with annoyance and yet half with self-deprecating agreement.
Ha glanced at his watch and rubbed his eyes. "Man, it’s starting to get late, and I didn't peg you for the type to go back to the well one more time at this hour."
"We've all got problems, man," she said.
A cheesy Dave Matthews song came into his head. "So, what are you drinking to forget?"
About Me
- DP
- There I am. See me? There I am. Right there. With my wife. She's awesome. Our dog, also awesome. We live in a house together.
4 comments:
I like what I see here, for what that's worth. Two questions (if you're interested):
Why not put the whole thing in present tense? That'd put us all "in" this moment a bit more.
Love all the attention to detail here, but where's this all headed? Or is this one of those snapshots of modern malaise I'm all too good at writing myself into when I try to "compose"? Perfectly fine if yes, but you've got me curious...
Best of luck in this new endeavor!
Comments and questions are very welcome (and encouraged).
This is a reflection, and what is here is really just a jumping off point. The main focus is that I think people (and in this case, me) tend to focus in on their own problems and ignore those of others, and that often-times the people we know tend to put up facades that bely what they're really feeling, for whatever reason. Certain triggers bring these true emotions out, whatever those triggers may be (booze, in this case).
The male character is so focused on his issues that he hasn't noticed that the female character has problems of her own that she perhaps would like to explore. He controls the conversation, interrupts her, and generally admits to completely unloading on her.
At the end of the beginning (that's how I see this snippet), it dons on him that he's not really unique in having some problems to discuss, and that he's been oblivious to her desire to reach out. I think the latter is something that needs to be better inserted/alluded to in the early stages of this.
Toward the end, we also see the beginning of something I wanted to touch on; I once dated someone who told me that, even when sad, she tried really hard to put on an outwardly happy face. I could never figure out why you would intentionally hide what you're feeling, but I realized that we all do this from time to time for whatever reason. I don't think Maureen has decided what her reason is, yet, but I think she's really wanting to unburden herself of something and has been waiting for someone to really let their guard down and trust her to do the same.
And for the record, if anyone else wants to write/swap/post things here for comment, I wouldn't be opposed to expanding the "blogging team" of this blog to include others.
If we're gonna quote DMB, how about the rip-off jobe he did w/"eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die"
I know I don't have to tell you where that came from. I'm sure he meant it as a tribute though. It sickens me to know I liked that band when I was twenty.
I always have non-sports stuff to blab about here as well. Always willing.
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