To Make Love With Your Eyes Closed

by Kyle Lipthorpe

  “What the hell are you doing in here? Why are you greetin’? Get your butt out there on the bar now!”

  “I can’t, I just can’t, I’m sorry.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” He wipes his hands over his forehead. “Have some water, wipe your face, whatever it is just do not bring it in here. Deal with your personal shit on your own time.”

  I nod and wipe my face but I can’t stop. I don’t give a shit about anything. I just want to sit and wallow in self pity. Aaron stands and looks at me, I can’t tell if he cares or if he’s stressed and annoyed.

  “Just go,” he says.

  I say nothing and walk out the front door. I cry more and more as I walk toward the bus station. I don’t care who can see. My heart’s broken, that’s worse than losing any amount of dignity.

  I’ve got a bit of weed left over in my apartment. I can’t honestly tell you where I got it from. I rarely do it these days. I like to think of myself as pretty clean despite the cigarettes and alcohol. I give my old stereo a bit of a kick and it boots up the CD that’s in their at the moment. It’s a James Blunt compilation. The first song that plays is ‘High’. How Ironic. Getting high to a song called High by a man with the second name Blunt. It soothes my spirit. I forget about that stupid fucking job. I forget about the rain outside and the grey sky. I’m taken back to my childhood. Driving around in the back of mum’s sedan with James Blunt’s first album on loop. I hated him back then. I thought his voice was whiny and he just sung about shit all the time. Now that I’m older and my music taste has er, matured, I really love him. His music is bliss.

  I drop half of my little bag into a dinner bowl and chop it up with the scissors. I have a bong at home. Dunno why, I never do this, as I say, but I have a bong here. In my kitchen actually, conveniently. I load her up and get myself going. The first drag is the deepest.

  I’m on Facebook again. I start reading an article that comes up on my newsfeed, something about healing, and love & light. I don’t know. I don’t really process it very well. Suddenly I feel really really tired, but at the same time, I’m in the world’s greatest mood.

  James Blunt’s ‘Wisemen’ is playing now. I’m bopping up and down. I take another smoke of the bong and I feel like I am as high as I can possible be. I turn a bit looney for a while. I stand in the middle of my lounge holding a ketchup bottle belting out the chorus. I think I sound pretty alright considering.

  Weed takes away my pain. Weed makes me feel the way I should feel when I’m not high. I need this feeling all the time.

  By the time Bonfire Heart is playing I am starving. The munchies kick in super fast. I don’t even turn the stereo off. I hop into my jogging pants and hoody and race downstairs. I subtly walk into my nearest convenience store and pick up three bags of the nearest thing I can find. As I turn the corner I bump into a familiar face, possible the last person I want to see, second to you of course. It’s Aaron. His face lights up after he realises it’s me, not sure if that’s genuine or not, but whatever.

  “Hey Gerry! How are you feeling?”

  “Yeah I’m a lot better now thanks, look I’m honestly really sorry about what happened today, I know it’s no excuse but I’m going through a really hard time right now…”

  “Look, it’s not excusable, but it’s understandable, I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh on you, I’ve had a bit of a tough morning myself.”

  I look at him and smile. I try not to stare for too long. Can’t have my own boss knowing I skipped work early to go home and get high.

  A fairly decent looking man joins Aaron’s side. Look, when I say he’s decent looking I mean he’s attractive, but he’s not my type at all.

  “Oh Jake! This is Gerry from work. Gerry this is Jake.”

  “How are ya,” I say pulling the hood down further over my hairline and smiling, weakly.

  “Good thanks, how are you?”

  Jake seems like one of those types of people that’s just really really happy all the time for absolutely no reason. I do not need one of those people right now.

  I roll my eyes internally.

  They’re both looking into each other’s eyes, I see sparks and love and whatever, all that shit. I make a really gross sound, quite loudly, not exactly on purpose, but it comes out. Aaron cringes and looks at me like I have just shot his mum. I push past him and get my things put through the checkout.

  “Bye guys,” I say with a wave as I flee.

  “Bye…” says Aaron with confusion as I’m leaving.

  It’s weird seeing a manager outside of work, it’s like seeing a wizard without his magic powers. I’m pretty pissed off, can’t lie. Why is it so easy for Aaron to just walk straight into the arms of someone who makes him happy but so damn difficult for me? What is the difference? What am I doing so wrong? Why am I always attracting assholes.

  The depressing James Blunt songs are playing when I get home. I turn ‘Same Mistake’ off half way through the chorus and shove in a Mariah Carey CD. I honestly haven’t listened to her in about a year and a half but she does have the effect of making me feel better.

  The second effect of the marijuana hits me soon and I’m off to bed.

  24

  I already know today is going to be a shit day.

  I’m in an okay mood, I don’t exactly have a reason to be so negative about today, but I just have that feeling. A feeling that is almost never wrong.

  It’s about one hour into the shift and we are swamped. I mean really really swamped. It’s not even lunch time and the majority of the tables in the bar are filled with lovers, brothers, workmates and gangs of mates. I’m running around furiously to keep up with everyone but it’s not working. I’m sweating like a pork chop and cursing God for making today so God damn hellish. Maybe this is a sign that this place is really not meant for me.

  It’s got to be said though, you can’t work in hospitality and not expect a day like today. They are usually pretty common, and if you want to work as a bartender, in a bar, in one of the drinking capitals of the world, then you gotta expect the living nightmares that are days like today. I’m seriously questioning my role here, but the more I do that the more I think about how much I’d hate almost any other job. Fashion bores the shit out of me. An office job would drive me absolutely mental. And anything that involves any more physical labour than this is just a joke. I settle down again and feel more comfortable in working in what I know.

  Aaron has been out on the deck all day. We called in an extra member of staff, Lucy, someone I barely say a word to. When it gets to my lunch break I ask Aaron if I can talk to him for a moment. I wait in the office until he’s ready. It’s good that he let’s me sit here, it’s usually quite rare for a manager to allow their staff to just hang out in the office while there’s no one there. He joins me shortly.

  “I’m just wondering if I can have some time off.” I say somewhat bluntly.

  “Okay,” he says softly. Aaron pulls out a few sheets of paper and starts to fill out some of the boxes. “Going anywhere exciting?”

  “I’m going to go to London”

  “Oh wow, London, sounds great. Is that where you’re from?”

  “That’s where my folks are from.”

  “Ahh I see.”

  I see him score things out and scribble in numbers, and things and I’m starting to slip into daydream about being in London. Permanently.

  “When would you like to go?”

  “Is next week too soon?”

  He throws me a startled look, widening his eyes and swinging his neck back. Then he realises I’m being serious.

  “Okay let me have a look and see.” He logs into the computer and hits the keys rapidly. “The only problem would be if I have another staff member to cover you, otherwise I would have to say it’s a no for now.”

  I agree and understand. I crack my knuckles and play with my hands nervously.

  “Okay, it actually shouldn’t be too much of a problem, I’ve got Lucy in here now
and I think she’s looking for a few extra shifts so that might work out well.” He nods towards her general direction.

  “That’s great, thanks!”

  I get up and leave the office. My lunch break is over now. I forgot to eat, I know I’m going to be starving in no time at all. The bar is still a mad house. It doesn’t end. I immediately return to running around like a total mental patient. All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye I notice a strange character. A lady, she’s perhaps a good ten years older than I am. She’s sitting alone, and she’s crying, heavily. I don’t feel the need to get involved so I turn on my heels and head back the way I came. Another lady calls out to me.

  “Excuse me!” She cries clicking her fingers.

  “Yes,” I say, turning around and smiling, pretending like I hadn’t noticed the lady crying sitting next to her.

  I do not need this crap today. The lady at the table points to the girl crying. I act surprised and caring, and head over to her table.

  “Is everything okay here? Can I help you with anything?”

  She’s fighting back her tears. I can barely understand what she’s saying but it went something along the lines of, “yes, can I please get you to walk me to my car?”

  I turn around and look at the hellish state the bar is in.

  “Ummm, sure.”

  “No, no it’s okay!” Pipes up the lady on the next table over again. “My husband will do it, it’s okay.”

  I’m a little bit confused. The husband is twice my size. He’s balding, I can see some of his extensive tattoo collection and he’s wearing his sunglasses inside. Bit of a wanker thing to do, but anyway.

  “No, thank you,” says the crying lady, “I would rather a member of staff, please.”

  “I honestly don’t mind, it’s okay.”

  I help her from her seat and guide her out of the door. The lady explains to me about how her ex boyfriend used to attack her and she ended it with a restraining order but now it seems that he is back in town. I don’t see how I am anymore help than the muscled man twice my size the table over but it’s all good. I see her off to her car. She tells me she’s heading to the police station to make an official report.

  My job is never boring.

  I return to the bar where I’m being given the dirty eye by Lucy. I don’t actually give enough shit’s to explain myself and so I hop back into working.

  My phone vibrates, I slide away from customer view to see who it is.

  It’s Duncan.

  The sparks circled around the rim of my head making my pulse on fire and my heartbeat electric. I am energised and high on adrenaline.

  Are you freaking kidding me? Is this some kind of a joke?

  I feel my energy turn from a hot palette of positivity to a perfect storm of anger and frustration. I am in no mind frame to reply.

  I’m not entirely sure why it is that I’m so angry. Right now I should be breathing a sight of relief because I have finally found the strength to walk away. I’m finally in a position where I don’t really give a crap anymore. I am no longer a puppet for him to play with when he gets bored or lonely. Yet what I’m feeling, in place of nonchalance, is disrespect and objectification. I am nobody’s second choice or last resort. I deserve to be somebody’s priority.

  Ten minutes or so pass and I begin to calm down. I consider messaging him back. I consider telling him that I want to see him again, because maybe out of loneliness I do. But then almost instantly after that, I get angry again and think about my own worth. I refuse to fall back into that pit of self-pity and desperation by chasing after this man who clearly does not give a shit about me. He just likes to play with me because he knows I’m easy to get to. Well I am about to learn from this and I refuse to be this easy to get to ever again. Thank you Duncan, thank you for teaching me how to be strong, you piece of shit.

  It’s the same story with all of the men I chase after, including, and foremost, you.

  For the first time in a long time I feel very proud of myself. I feel so smug and it shows, it really shows. I am wearing the biggest grin across my face. A grin so obvious that most people give me odd looks. It’s a happy grin though, it’s a celebration that I am done with playing cat and mouse with you people. I am finally ready to be secure in myself, if someone truly wants to be with me then we will be together, I shouldn’t have to fight you for yourself, or making excuses, or wait around aimlessly. If you wanted me like I wanted you then we would be together, it’s as simple as that.

  The rush slows down around three o’clock. That’s when the police walk in. Two police men, both rude and arrogant looking, not much older than myself. They do however walk with a certain kind of self importance.

  “We’re looking for the man who dealt with the lady today.”

  I don’t even need any more evidence than that that they are here to see me.

  “That would be me,” I say with a fake confidence.

  “Hi how you going?”

  “Good thanks, how can I help?”

  “We’re going to need copies of your security footage, a written report, and to see where in fact the incident happened.”

  I point them to the table where the lady was sitting before and make my way into the office. Aaron doesn’t exactly open the door with an over-the-moon expression on his face.

  “Yes?”

  “Just a quick one, the police are here, they’re after some security footage from this afternoon. I actually dealt with a lady who seemed quite upset, as far as I’m aware nothing really happened as such but the police would like the tapes anyway.”

  He takes a minute to take all of the information in and then replies with a simple, “Ok.” He closes the door before standing up and exiting. He walks up to the police officers, gives them a handshake, gets lost in conversation and the three of them return to the office.

  I’m a little nervous. I’ve done nothing wrong but police officers always make me feel uncomfortable, perhaps due to being involved in so many incidents with them back in the day.

  I’m feeling unsettled out on the bar, slowly pouring pints and cleaning up the area. I watch the office door with a cautious eye. They’re all out of there within a good twenty minutes. The police and I then walk over the area where the incident supposedly occurred again. We sit down and I quickly run through all of the things I saw and knew. I obviously couldn’t give many details because I really didn’t see anything at all. My version of the story was really just me walking up to a table with a crying lady and walking her to her car while she told me her awful stories. I didn’t see anything that could be of any use in court.

  As the first officer is reading over my statement he asks me a few questions.

  “Do you have any plans to leave the country in the next few months?”

  “Yes, I do, why is that important?”

  “Just, because if this does in fact come to court and we need you to be present, we will need to see if we can work around your travel plans.”

  “I’m not going to court, I can’t go to court, I’m leaving the country next week.”

  He looks at me very seriously. I realise that I am in fact only going on holiday, but something tugs behind me telling me I’m not coming back. Subconsciously I have a fairly obvious longing to breakaway.

  “How long are you gone for?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “That should be fine, we’ll be in touch anyway.”

  I give them a handshake and see the officers on their way. What a cheek! I am not going to court if I didn’t see anything illegal happen. What am I a witness to? A crying lady. This is insane.

  I recap everything with Aaron before he leaves. I’m really considering not coming back. I just have to work out what it is that I’m so afraid of. What it is that’s keeping me in this little safety box I have here.

  Three o’clock is usually around our staff changeover time. I pray that you’re not in this afternoon. The door swings open and Rory comes in. He’s really excited ab
out something. I’m excited that it’s him and not you walking through those doors.

  “Guess what! Guess what!”

  “What’s that?”

  “Mumford & Sons have announced their tour dates! They’ll be in town in August!”

  “That’s! … great.” I say.

  Rory is really confused.

  “That’s great? What’s wrong? We are going, I know we are, you love them, you have a Mumford tattoo for christ’s sake, why wouldn’t you want to go?”

  “Woah, woah, woah slow down! I never said I didn’t want to go I’ll just need to see how my plans work out first.”

  “Plans?”

  “Mmmm,” I hesitate before telling him this next part. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you this or not but a big part of me thinks that I’m not going to come back when I go to London…”

  “What? Why? When?”

  “I leave on Sunday. I’ll keep you updated, but I’m just not happy here anymore Rory.”

  He looks evidently upset but he’s far too macho to show it. He’s not as shocked as I anticipated he might be. He probably thinks it’s another one of those times I come up with a super exciting idea, love it for a few days then get bored of it and leave it alone. Who knows, maybe this will in fact be one of those times.

  “Okay,” he says, “whatever’s best for you, do it.”

  The tone of his voice is quite disbelieving.