by Naomi Niles
“But you enjoy it?”
“I get to travel,” he said. “Half the time I’m broke after one of my trips, but seeing the world is worth it.”
He spoke with conviction, with the certainty of knowing that despite everything, he would never regret this part of his life.
“It must be,” I said mostly to myself.
“I’m Josh, by the way,” he said extending his hand to me.
“I’m Elizabeth,” I said, shaking his hand.
“You worked here long Elizabeth?”
“About a year,” I replied. “I’m a teacher by day though. Well, not really; I’m a school librarian.”
Josh smiled. “That must be interesting.”
“It’s not,” I said. “I thought it would be when I first got the job, but it didn’t work out that way. To be honest, I took the job only because I was hoping it would one day lead to a teaching position.”
“Is that what you want to do with the rest of your life?” Josh asked. “Teach?”
I considered that for a moment. “You know what? I said. “I really don’t know.”
“Hey, bar keep!” a loud voice hollered from the other end of the bar. “I need a refill.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to Josh. “I’ve been neglecting my other customers.”
I was about to leave when he leaned in and touched my arm. “Maybe after your shift we could … talk a little more?”
I was taken back and flattered, but I could feel myself closing up again, receding into my bubble of safety where nothing could touch me. “I don’t know,” I said uncertainty. “My shift ends at twelve.”
“I can wait,” he said readily.
“I wouldn’t,” I said automatically. “I’m exhausted at the end of the night.”
“How about I hang around here, and at the end of the night we’ll see how you’re feeling?”
“I … well … I guess I can’t stop you,” I said before moving down the bar to where Bob sat.
“Found a new friend, did you?” he asked pointedly.
“Shut up,” I shot back at him as I refilled his glass.
I made sure I stayed on the opposite side of the bar for the remainder of my shift, keeping a fair distance between Josh and myself. I wasn’t sure why I was so reluctant to go out with the guy after my shift. It would give me some distraction, plus I would be following Zach’s advice to get out there. I was saved from my internal debate when Heather showed up.
“Elizabeth, do you mind if I work the bar?” she asked. “I want to practice mixing drinks.”
“Sure,” I replied as I got out a fresh apron and fastened it around my waist.
I moved into the hub of the bar and started cleaning down the empty tables and clearing away empty plates and beer bottles. I found it easier to keep my mind off things when there was work to be done. I had just taken an order and was moving towards the kitchen when I noticed the door to the bar open. I glanced behind and realized that it was Paul.
“Shit,” I said to myself as I moved behind the bar and passed the order to the kitchen.
“What’s wrong honey? Joni asked as she brought a new order in.
“Paul’s here again,” I sighed.
“I wonder if he comes here for the steak or for you?” she asked curiously.
“He comes here for his own amusement,” I replied. “He likes to get under my skin.”
“Just ignore him, hon,” Joni said before she grabbed a few fresh beer bottles and headed off to a table in the corner.
“Easier said than done,” I whispered to myself.
I collected my order and moved back into the bar’s hub. On my way to the table, I realized that Josh had moved from the bar and he was now sitting at one of the high tables alone with a mug of beer in hand. He smiled at me as I passed and instinctively I glanced at Paul. His eyes were fixed on me and I realized he was trying to get my attention. I ignored him and pretended to be busy wiping down an empty table.
“Hey, Elizabeth,” Joni said from behind me.
I turned. “What’s up?”
“Paul wants you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and turned back to Joni. “Can’t you wait on him?”
“I can,” she replied. “And I tried, but he wants you.”
“What an asshole.”
“Sorry, hon,” Joni said sympathetically. “But he’s known for causing scenes and I’d rather avoid one.”
“I know,” I sighed. “It’s fine, Joni. I’ll deal with it.”
“Thanks, doll,” she said as she turned and walked away.
Sighing, I walked straight for Paul’s table. His pale-blue eyes were fixed on me as I approached. I noticed that his blond hair was receding slightly at the top and I felt a surge of malicious pleasure at the sight. I recalled a time when he had been passably good looking, back when he played football and he thought he was going to be someone.
“What do you want?” I asked hotly.
“Aw come on, Ellie,” he said. “Why do you have to be that way?”
“My name is Elizabeth,” I said firmly. “And I’m ‘that way’ because you’re a pain in my ass. Seriously, the whole point of getting divorced is that you don’t see each other after the fact.”
“Can’t we be one of those friendly divorced couples?” he asked seriously. “You know: the kind that get along?”
I raised my eyebrows with incredulity. “Are you serious?”
“What–?”
I slammed my hands on his table and leaned in. “Do you recall how you treated me when we were married?”
He smiled as though I was making a joke. “Come on, Elizabeth; you know I didn’t mean those things.”
“Then why did you say them?” I demanded.
“You know me: when I get angry, I just—”
“Go fucking insane?” I suggested.
“I get carried away.”
“That’s a neat and tidy way of putting it,” I said. “After everything you put me through, the least you can do now is to leave me alone now.”
“You know I still care about you,” Paul said as he tried to reach for my hand.
I shook him off and stared down at him. “I wish the feeling were mutual.”
Paul sat back as his smile grew wider. “Have you noticed that there’s still all this sexual tension between us?”
I shook my head at him in disgust. “You just come in here to piss me off, don’t you?”
“I come in here for beer,” he said.
“Great,” I said. “I’ll go and get you one now.”
I turned on my heels before he could stop me and walked over to the bar. Heather came forward. “Everything all right?” she asked.
“Same old bullshit,” I said in frustration.
“He’s not drunk is he?”
“Not yet,” I replied darkly.
I got the beer and went back to his table. He was looking at me with that smug smile still playing on his face and I couldn’t help but wonder what had induced me to marry him in the first place. Scared of answering my own internal question, I refocused my thoughts and slammed the beer down onto the table so that a little sloshed out onto the table.
“There,” I said. “Now drink and leave.”
Before he could say another word, I veered off in the opposite direction and tried to distract myself with work. I had to remind myself not to glance back at Paul. He might misconstrue the dark looks I wanted to send in his direction.
“Are you all right?”
I turned, realizing that Josh was still hanging around and he had probably noticed my less than warm exchange with Paul. “Oh … yeah, of course,” I replied. “It’s just, you know, difficult customers.”
“I can imagine,” he said sympathetically.
“Listen, Josh,” I said. “I really don’t think tonight is a good time.”
“I think it’s the perfect time,” he said persistently. “You look like you need some good conversation and a few laughs.”
“Do I?” I asked shaking my head at him. “What about me gave you that expression?”
“You just seem really … tense,” he said and then he looked a little embarrassed. “But still really hot.”
I couldn't help but laugh. There was something charming about him, and after the train wreck that was Paul it was easy to laugh it up with someone completely different. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I said, enjoying the flirting far more than I had expected to.
“Well, this is the first time I ever truly meant it,” Josh said. As he spoke, he reached out with his right hand and pushed the lock of hair that had fallen onto my face. I tensed from the unfamiliar contact but I didn’t move away. It might actually be nice to spend some time with a stranger and forget for a moment everything that made my life depressing.
“Hey, buddy,” a hostile voice said from behind me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I turned around in alarm to find Paul staring daggers at Josh. I looked at him with incredulity. “Paul, are you kidding me? Go back to your booth.”
He didn’t even acknowledge me. “That’s my wife you’re touching asshole.”
My eyes went wide with horror as embarrassment flooded through me. It was just like Paul to screw everything up just when I was beginning to feel normal again. Josh looked back and forth between Paul and me with confusion. “Excuse me?” he asked. Then he looked at me, “You’re married?”
“Divorced,” I said with finality. “For over a year now.” I turned to Paul. “You need to leave, right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until this dick gets the hell away from you.”
“Are you for real, man?” Josh asked as anger began to color his tone. “I think it’s pretty clear that she wants nothing to do with you.”
Then without any warning, Paul launched himself at Josh, pushing me out of the way in the process. I knocked into one of the tables and almost tripped over my own legs but I managed to steady myself in time. When I looked up again, Paul had Josh’s head fastened beneath his elbow as he tried to punch him in the gut.
“Paul!” I screamed. “Stop this now!”
A few of the guys at the bar came forward and pulled the two furious men apart. Paul was struggling against their hold but Josh calmed down almost immediately. I could see that Paul had hit him the face; his left cheek had already started to bruise.
“Oh God,” I said coming forward. “Josh … I’m so sorry—”
“To hell with this,” Josh said with unexpected venom. “I don’t need this high school drama.”
He wrenched himself free of the two men who were holding him back and straightened out his shirt. He gave me a parting glance and then he walked out of the bar without a second look. Furiously, I turned towards Paul, who was panting heavily.
“Are you out of your mind?” I screamed. “Going around bars and picking fights with random strangers? What are you, fifteen-years-old?” I ripped the apron from around my waist and threw it at his face. “Stay away from me! Just stay the hell away from me.”
With that, I turned and walked out of the bar, wondering if I was just another twenty-eight-year-old woman whose life had peaked in high school and then gotten lost in the rough and tumble of life.
Chapter Five
Dylan
I woke up to laughter and conversation. My head was aching from the previous night and I could smell the girl’s perfume on me. I had already forgotten her name. I rose from my bunker and prepared for my morning run.
I’d gotten into the habit early on during my training. I loved the beach in the mornings, the water wafted onto the shore in calming bursts of blue and the sand had that welcoming heat that gave you the momentum to keep moving. It was practically empty that morning when I started my jog, and by the time I had finished, a few people had started filtering in.
Sometimes I liked to sit by the surf and watch people walk by—mothers with young children, bachelors with their dogs, and older couples getting in some early morning cardio. It felt so normal and yet, it was so far removed from my life that it also felt alien to me. I was back at the base within two hours and I grabbed some breakfast at the commissary. I had just bitten into my sausage and bacon sandwich when I remembered the call I had received the previous night.
I pulled my phone out and scrolled through the missed calls. The number was unknown but I dialed it in anyway and waited for the line to connect. A few seconds later, a throaty voice that sounded vaguely familiar answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” I replied. “This is Dylan.”
“Dylan!” the voice cried. “You didn’t pick up last night?”
“Aunt Brenda?” I asked beginning to place the voice.
“Of course it’s Aunt Brenda,” she exclaimed. “Who else would it be?” I could think of a few people but I bit my tongue, wondering why on earth she had called me.
“Did Tyler speak to you?” she asked almost tearfully and I started to get a little nervous.
“Talk to me about what?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh dear,” Brenda said going quiet.
“Aunt Brenda,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Dylan dear … I don’t know how to tell you this … but it’s about your father …”
“What about him? Is he ok?” I asked as the panic started to rise.
“I … I’m so sorry Dylan; your father passed away yesterday morning.”
I sat there, staring down at my bacon and sausage sandwich trying to make sense of what Aunt Brenda had just told me. “What?” I asked stupidly.
“Your father, Dylan …” Brenda tried again. “He died last morning.”
“I … that can’t be,” I said slowly. “Dad’s fine; I spoke to him last week.”
There was a pause on the other line. “I know,” Brenda said slowly. “None of us expected it, Dylan. It was a complete shock…”
“Where’s mom?” I demanded suddenly as the realization hit home.
“She’s here, in the house.”
“Can you put her on the phone?” I asked.
I couldn’t seem to feel the grief. All I could feel was anger. I wondered why Tyler hadn’t called me himself. Why was I hearing about dad’s death from Aunt Brenda, of all people?
“I’m sorry Dylan,” Brenda replied. “Your mother … she’s not doing so well. She’s locked in her room and she won’t come out.”
“How long has she been in there?”
“Since it happened.”
“Tell her it’s Dylan,” I said with confidence. “Tell her that I want to speak to her.”
Brenda sounded uncertain, but she didn’t argue with me. I heard a shuffling and a few moments later I heard a distinctive knock. “Louisa,” I heard her say. “Louisa, Dylan’s on the phone. He wants to speak to you.” I could hear her answer back but I couldn’t make out the words.
“I’m sorry, Dylan,” Brenda said a moment later. “She’s just not up for talking to anyone.”
“Ok,” I said trying to calm myself down. “Ok.”
“The funeral will be held the day after tomorrow,” Brenda continued. “I know your mother wants you to be there.”
“Where’s Tyler?” I asked abruptly.
“He’s busy, preparing for the funeral.”
“All right,” I said. “Thanks, Aunt Brenda.”
I hung up before she could reply and then I dialed Tyler’s number. He didn’t answer the first time, so I hung up and called him again. Finally, on the third try, he picked up. I could tell from his voice that he was annoyed.
“Tyler?” I said.
“I assume Aunt Brenda told you.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. “Our father dies and you can’t pick up the Goddamn phone to inform your brother?”
“Fuck you, Dylan,” Tyler shot back. “I’m handling everything down here, all right? Aunt Brenda’s not exactly competent and mom’s a complete mess. She won’t even come out
of her room, which means I have to do everything. And to be honest, I really don’t have time for you and your complaints—”
“All right, all right,” I said quickly, wanting to diffuse the situation. “I get it, you’ve got a lot on your plate. Give me a break, ok? I just found out that dad …” I stopped short, realizing what I was saying as I was saying it. I could feel the emotion rise, but I forced it down.
“I … I’m sorry I didn’t call you myself,” Tyler replied, his tone softening considerably. “I probably should have, it’s just … I didn’t want to.”
“It’s ok,” I said soberly. “Doesn’t matter, I know now.”
It was the strangest feeling in the world and it didn’t feel real to me. I felt as though I had just lost my bearings, yet I was still expected to continue as though everything was normal. Dad, my dad, was dead, and that didn’t make sense, not in the slightest. He was the strongest man I knew: tall, wiry, and tough as nails. He was the reason that I had joined the Navy in the first place.
I remembered when Tyler and I were still boys; we would sneak into mom and dad’s room and take out the uniform that dad had hung up in their wardrobe. It was crisp and clean, always well pressed and always impressive. We would fight over who would get to wear it when we got older. Tyler always won because he claimed that since he was older, he would get taller faster than I would and he would be able to fit into the uniform sooner.
He had been wrong about that in the end. I was the one who had ended up taller and I was the one who had ended up in the Navy like dad. I never did get to try on his uniform though; I got my mine and somehow that meant more to me. It was nice to have accomplished something on your own; it was nice to have something that was completely yours.
“How did it happen?” I asked reluctantly. I wanted to know everything and yet I didn’t. It was as though hearing the details would make it real somehow and I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be real just yet.
“It was a stroke,” Tyler replied, his voice dulled to a whisper and I knew it was painful for him to talk about it.
“A stroke?” I repeated. “Is that what the doctor said?”
“Apparently his heart was only working fifty percent,” Tyler went on.
“Fifty percent?” I exclaimed. “How on earth did that slip through the cracks?”