by Russ Watts
“Yes, Dad,” said Amanda teasingly. “Some guys, I’ll admit I could’ve done without, but what was wrong with Mike? He was sweet.”
“Mike? That idiot from last year? The one who crashed your car. Twice? Yeah, he was sweet all right, just a shame he had the mental age of a fifteen year old.”
“Oh come on, don’t be mean. Some guys like to play video games, what’s wrong with that? And he didn’t mean to crash my car. Twice.”
They laughed and Don started on his next beer. Amanda was only halfway through her first when the waitress brought the next round.
“So, you gonna answer the question then, or keep me in suspense?” asked Don.
“Honestly, you sound like Curtis, that’s Hamish’s father. He’s always hinting at Hamish to pop the question. Oh, he’s really subtle about it, just like you.” Amanda took a breath and looked out of the bar, at the setting sun outside. The sidewalk was cast in a reddish glow and long shadows were gradually covering the city. The sun came in through the bar’s window and illuminated Amanda, as she sat pensively thinking over her answer. As she thought how to respond, the frowns on her face deepened and the orange glow of the sun made her skin seem soft and warm.
You are one helluva beautiful woman, thought Don. If I were in Hamish’s shoes, I would’ve popped the question long ago. He is one lucky guy. It is nothing short of amazing that no guy has snapped you up already. If I’d had children, I could only hope to have a daughter like you.
Don knew if he didn’t stop staring at Amanda, she could turn back to him at any moment, and then there would be that moment of awkwardness. That moment when you catch someone looking at you, and you don’t know what to say. He forced himself to look away to the bar, and the men supping on cold ale.
I’m one step away from them. I just have to say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and that’s it. No more job. Nobody would hire me now. My skills aren’t exactly suitable for the modern workplace. Mind you, is sitting at that bar really so bad? As long as you’ve some good company and a cold beer, that’s better than a lot of people have.
“Yes,” said Amanda eventually. “Yes, I am serious about him. I can’t say if he’ll ask me to marry him, but I don’t even want to think about that. We’re getting on so well, we’ll just see what happens. He’s…he’s pretty special to me though.”
“Hmm,” said Don. “When do I actually get to meet this special guy?”
“You have met him once, actually. I thought you’d forgotten.”
“When?” Don finished his beer and the waitress came back with another.
“You want to order any food, honey?” she asked Don.
“I’ll take the calamari please, and maybe get us a pitcher?”
“Sure thing.” The waitress smiled at Don. “I don’t usually see you in here with company. You feel like introducing me to your daughter?”
“Amanda’s just a friend.” Don sipped on his beer and looked outside at the city as it cooled off.
“Caesar salad, thanks.” Amanda watched the waitress leave, her pleasant demeanour suddenly soured by Don’s curtness.
“Don, what gives?”
“What’s up?”
“That waitress, you totally blew her off. She was looking at you like you were a Christmas present, and tonight was Christmas Eve.”
“Eh?” Don finished his beer and started on the last bottle.
“Don, she was looking for an opening. Could you not see the way she was looking at you? That whole time, she never looked at me once.”
“I guess not. Look, whatever, back to the story. You said I met Hamish once…”
Don failed to see the annoyance in Amanda’s face, only the sparkle in her eyes and the golden lilt to her shoulders as the sun set.
“Jay’s party. Last April, we were both there. In fact, you drove us there if I remember rightly. Flannigan’s? Does any of this ring a bell? I met Hamish there, and you spoke to him for a few minutes at least.”
Don frowned. “Can’t say as I remember it. Or Hamish.”
Don remembered going to Jay’s birthday party, and he remembered waking up on his bedroom floor the next day with his front door wide open. He remembered Mrs Barkley yelling at him as he tried to close the door wearing the same clothes he had gone out in the night before. The part in between, from arriving at the bar until the next morning was a blank though. “Sorry, so many birthday parties, they all blur into one.” Don gave Amanda an innocent smile.
“I’m sure they do,” said Amanda as she watched Don finish the last bottle. She was still nursing her first.
“What’s that supposed to…” Don stopped as the waitress brought over the pitcher of beer and set two glasses on the table. She briskly walked away, leaving Don and Amanda in silence.
Don poured out two glasses of beer and pushed one slowly across the table to Amanda. “I’m sorry, okay, let’s start over. Truce?”
Amanda took the glass and raised it. “To good friends.”
“Good friends.” Don chinked glasses with Amanda, relieved he had avoided a lecture. Every few months, Amanda would give him a stern talking to, about the perils of drinking too much, staying up too late, of not eating well, and generally telling him how to change his life. The problem was that Don didn’t want to change it. The way he saw it, everything was as it should be. At least, everything in his power was. You couldn’t control your whole life, certainly not your dreams or your past. As for the future, well, he wasn’t sure about that.
“Don, tell me something, you come here a lot, I know you do, you live right around the corner.”
“Yep?”
“And clearly that waitress was into you. So how come…”
“How come what?”
“Are you being pig-headed on purpose? Why do I never see you with anyone? Why do I never hear about you picking up some waitress, or meeting anyone? I mean, even Jay has girlfriends and he’s a loser. You’re a good-looking guy, Don, and you’re not ready to move to Florida yet. So. What gives?”
Don searched around his head for the right answer. It seemed that today he might only be getting half the lecture. “You know how you’ve got Hamish? You know how perfect it feels, the way you can relax with him? Tell him everything? Well, I’ve never had that. And I don’t want to settle for second best, or sleep around like some dirty, old man. I’m fine on my own. There are a lot of single people out there in the world, Amanda, and they don’t all need saving. It’s just the way it is. Honestly, I can’t see myself getting married, but I’m not a lost cause. I’m not holed up in my apartment right now, stacking newspapers and counting the cockroaches on the walls. I’ve noticed her, the waitress from before, but she’s out of my league. Look, I’m here having a drink with you, in a bar with real, live people, so don’t worry.”
Don poured more of the beer from the pitcher and waited for Amanda to tell him he was being foolish, that he was missing out when he could be banging waitresses old enough to be his daughter.
“Fine. Don O’Reilly, I am officially not worrying about you anymore. With this beer, I set you free. No more interfering.” Amanda polished off her glass of beer. “Where is that food?”
Don’s eyes widened. “No more interfering? No more lectures? Damn, I should’ve been more pig-headed years ago.”
“Ha ha,” said Amanda plainly. “Say, what happened with your cousin from out east? Taggart or something? I forget. Wasn’t he going to stay with you? You never said if he came.”
“Taggart’s my uncle. It’s his son, my cousin, Ryan who was moving down here. He asked if he could stay, but in the end, he didn’t need to. Passed his PST and got fast-tracked over to San Clemente. He’s there now, in training. I hear good things about him. He’s getting into the SEALS.”
Amanda looked surprised. “Well, did you help him? You must have stacks of stuff you could tell him about. You were in the SEALS for how long, like five years?”
“Yeah, but he’s a smart kid, he didn’t need my help. Besi
des, I left the service a long time ago. Things have changed, moved on. I’m not sure I’d be able to offer him much help. Anyway, it turned out fine. Like I said, he’s at the training base on San Clemente Island now.”
Their food arrived, and Don drew the pitcher to his side as the plates were put down. He ordered another pitcher from the waitress, and picked up his knife and fork.
“Don, you should ask her out,” suggested Amanda.
“Who, the waitress? You’re kidding.”
“She’ll be back in a minute with the drinks.” Amanda shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth. “Why not, what have you got to lose? Do it, do it now.”
Don’s fork and knife hovered over his plate and he stared at his food. His right hand clenched around the knife and he felt hot. His face was burning and his body temperature was suddenly soaring, shimmering in the hazy sunlight as the sand rubbed against his skin. The scar on his head throbbed, and he could hear the screams, the gunfire, and the blood rushing through his veins.
Do it, do it now.
Smoke from the exploded rocket mingled with the freshly cooked bacon on Amanda’s dish, and Don closed his eyes.
Burning flesh. Blood trickling down the back of my throat. I need to get out of here. He’s waiting for me.
Don squeezed his eyes shut, but still, he could not block out the dazzling sunlight. The man with the yellow shirt was waving at him, chuckling, sneering, and cracking up as if Don was the biggest joke in the world. The chuckle turned to full-blown laughter, and the man’s cracking voice joined with the cheer of the crowd on the television set at the bar, as the Padres defeated the Mariners.
Robert, where are you?
“Don, are you okay?” asked Amanda.
Do it now.
The man in the yellow shirt laughed as sand and bullets fizzed around Don’s head like a herd of gigantic mosquitos. He looked down at his meal. The calamari on his plate had turned into bloody dead eyes, and the salad had become maggot-infested raw meat. A thin cat ran up to Don and began scratching at his face, tearing away the flesh, raking out his eyeballs and biting his cheeks. His feet were sinking. His body was plummeting down, floating into an eternal oblivion. Hands pulled at him from the dark hole below, thousands of hands tugging at his feet, dragging him further and further down.
Do it now.
“Don!” Amanda grabbed Don’s shaking hands and he looked up at her. “Don, what the hell is going on? You spaced out there. You’re not having a heart attack on me, are you? If it’s that stressful for you, don’t ask her out. It was just a suggestion.”
Don gave Amanda the most reassuring smile he could muster, and put his knife and fork down. His right hand hurt from gripping the knife so fiercely. “Sorry, I don’t know what that was. I just…I haven’t eaten much today. Guess I should slow down, huh?” He held his half-empty glass of beer aloft. The amber liquid sloshed around and Don wished he could just swallow it all. He wished he was sat alone at the bar, then he wouldn’t have to apologise for wanting to drink it.
Amanda took a small bite of her salad. Her face showed the worry she felt for Don. “You sure you’re okay? I know that tomorrow is…”
“I’m fine.” Don slammed his glass down on the table. “Leave me be.” The sizzling stench of meat reached Don’s nostrils from the kitchen and he wanted to puke. He left Amanda at the table, speechless, and marched off to the men’s room.
He flung the door back and sat down in one of the stalls. It was cooler in there, and the smell was of a far richer variety. Don didn’t really need to go and just sat there holding his head in his hands.
At least it doesn’t smell like death. Shit, I shouldn’t have spoken to Amanda like that. She was only trying to help. You’re a freak, Don O’Reilly, treating her like that. What is wrong with you? You know very well what’s wrong. You’re going insane, you know. Since when did the dreams come in the daytime, when you’re awake for Christ’s sake? What was that, some sort of catatonic episode? Doctor Phil would have a field day with your mind.
She started to talk about it: tomorrow. She knows. You told her and now you can’t take it back. When you go back out there, she’s going to want to talk about it. If she’s still out there. I wouldn’t want to be friends with me, either. If she is still there, you’re going to suck it up, talk about it, and have a nice evening. Tomorrow is just another day. It’s like all the other Wednesdays this year, except you have an errand to do in the morning. So get out there and apologise. If you’re lucky, she’ll still be there. I am such an asshole.
Don left the bathroom and walked slowly back to his table. He was more than uncomfortable. As he walked, he could feel everyone in the bar looking at him. Whether they were or not, he could feel them. There he was: the weird guy who had slammed his beer down.
I’ll probably be lucky not to get thrown out.
Amanda slipped out of her chair as Don approached, and when he reached their table, she put her arms around him.
“I’m sorry, Don,” she whispered in his ear as they hugged.
Don was so surprised he couldn’t speak. He was supposed to be apologising to her, and this amazing woman was apologising to him. He gently pushed her away. “No, Amanda, I shouldn’t have acted like that. You don’t have anything to say sorry for.”
They sat down and Amanda took Don’s hand in hers across the table. “I spoke to the waitress, it’s all fine. I explained you were just upset about something.”
“I don’t know why you put up with me sometimes. I’m sorry, Amanda, truly I am. It’s just stress, thinking about tomorrow. At the very least, let me pay for tonight.”
“Hell yeah, you’re paying.” Amanda let go of Don’s hand and beamed. “Tequila?”
He was relieved that Amanda had forgiven him so quickly. He hadn’t suffered from anything like that before. Usually, he left his nightmares at home. He couldn’t even remember what had set him off now. He pushed his calamari around his plate with his fork. It was distinctly cold and unappetising, so he nibbled at the side salad, sipping slowly at the beer when all he really wanted to do was drink until he couldn’t remember his own name. Some equally cold and unappetising song was playing on the radio, and they ate.
When they had finished, Amanda looked at her phone. “I’m going to have to get going. Zola’s got me in at eight tomorrow to go over the figures for last month. A working breakfast.”
“Sounds thrilling,” said Don. “You want a lift home?”
“No, I’ll get a cab. You’ll be okay won’t you?”
“From here to my place, it’s seventy-five steps. True story. I counted once. I’ll be fine.”
“Look, Don, what I said before. I am revoking my earlier statement. I officially do worry about you, and that’s not going to change.” Amanda picked up her handbag, and lent over the table. She spoke in a hushed tone, as if she was divulging the whereabouts of the President. “I put a good word in for you with Meghan.”
“Meghan?” Don took Amanda’s glass. His mood had definitely softened and he felt himself finally beginning to relax. A few more drinks and he would be fine.
“The waitress. The size ten who looks like she wants to eat you for breakfast? It would do you good not to be on your own for once. Just think it over. Being close to someone really helps, Don. When was the last time you were close to someone? So close, you knew each other’s thoughts? Have you really never had that?”
“I have. I did, once.”
Shut up.
“Not how you’re talking about exactly, but something similar.” Don said. “There was a time when we were happy. My brother was a year younger than I was. We were only a year apart at school and always got on. We would spend so much time together that people thought we were twins.” Don chuckled. “Not like the movie.”
What are you doing? Just shut up now. She doesn’t need to hear this.
“So every day, we would walk down and catch the school bus together. We played football together. He was always better at
it than I was, but I always aced him at chess. I used to play with my Dad too, but he always beat me.”
“Chess? Don O’Reilly, were you a secret nerd?”
“We both were. Dad taught us how to play. My brother and I used to read about Gladiators, Romans, and all that stuff. We loved it. I remember when we would go out into the backyard. I would wear my mother’s apron, and we would make swords out of cardboard. We pretended we were fighting lions in the backyard. I gave him a bloody nose once. It was just an accident, but my mother grounded me for weeks. She was…strict, I think is the word.”
“What about your brother, didn’t he get grounded too?”
The man in the yellow shirt grinned maliciously. You’ve not got long left. Do it.
Don smirked. “My brother, no way. He was the golden child. We cut each other’s hair once. I was ten, eleven maybe? We got home from school and just decided we wanted to, so we found the kitchen scissors and sat in the den chopping bits off each other. It was freaking hilarious. We looked like deranged scarecrows after. I got a good hiding for that. I remember my brother explaining to Mom how we had done it together, but it didn’t matter. I was the eldest, therefore it was my fault. I can clearly remember he got a double scoop of ice-cream for being honest. I got six from the belt.”
“Is your mother still…”
Don shook his head. “She’s not in the picture anymore.”
“And your father?”
Don shook his head again. “He’s been dead a long time.” He didn’t want to continue this morbid conversation. His eyes were glazing and Don knew it was time to go. He looked outside. The night had come and stolen the sun for another day.
Amanda looked at her phone again. “Don, I hate to do this to you, but I really do have to get going. Look, I can come with you tomorrow if you want? To the…”
“No.” Don suddenly perked up. “Just go. I’ll settle up, and then I’m going home. The fresh air will sober me up. You should get going while you can still get a cab.”