Chapter Twenty-Three
Richard did not remember crossing the street, or even opening the door to Merlin’s. Susan had left the store not long after arriving, without saying a word. He suddenly became aware that he was standing inside the door to the bar. A bit dazed he looked around and saw that there were more people there than usual. There were the regulars; Jake, Merlin and the two old guys in the booth near the back. As always, there was a woman at the end of the bar, but it wasn’t Sara. There was something familiar about her, though.
After assessing the situation, he walked over and out of habit took his usual seat next to Jake. Before he sat down, Merlin made a drink and placed it in front of him without a word.
Richard ignored those around him. He desired the alcohol not the fellowship. Haphazard and illogical thoughts darted in and out of his mind. He finished his drink, placed the empty glass on the bar and pointed to it. Merlin quickly removed the tumbler from in front of him and made another. The second drink led to a third, and then a fourth. Sweat seeped from his pores as his state of inebriation deepened. He reeked of the bourbon that had soaked into his flesh over the months in Erst-while. No one said anything to him, and he said nothing to anyone. It was almost as if he wasn’t there; closed unto himself.
Richard glanced toward Jake long enough to see that he was drinking whiskey and not his usual beer. Something Jake was doing caught his attention. The condensation from his glass soaked the counter beneath it so that it hydroplaned when pressure was applied. His bar-mate decided to make a game of it. He touched the tips of his thumbs and forefingers together encircling his glass. The heels of his hands lay flat against the surface of the bar. He moved both hands in unison, in a circular motion maintaining the ring around the glass. When it touched a finger it slid effortlessly across the bar until coming into contact with another, which re-directed it to yet another, and then another. Jake played with his drink, ad nauseam. The longer he did this the more it irritated Richard. He knew the depths of the anger that Jake held inside, which gave him pause to consider whether he should risk facing that rage. He chose, what he considered, a diplomatic approach. “You’ve found an interesting way to stir your drink.”
Jake turned his head toward Richard. His face was expressionless as he said, “I’m not stirring.”
Richard shifted his gaze to the woman at the end of the bar. Cigarette smoke hid her face. When it dissipated, she took another drag and blew smoke in several uniform rings, one after another. Her lips glistened and her eyes sparkled through the haze. Bravado born from passion puffed within him. “Merlin, do you sell cigarettes?”
Without a word, the bartender walked to a spot at the counter along the back wall. He opened a drawer. In it were several brands of cigarettes laid neatly in rows. “Any particular brand?” he asked.
“Do they still make Winston?” Richard knew the brand because it was the kind his father smoked.
Merlin removed a pack from the drawer. Before he could close it, Richard recalled getting sick as a boy after taking one of his father’s cigarettes into the woods to smoke. “Could you make those cigarettes light?”
Merlin replaced the pack he held in his hand, and removed another. He walked over and tossed them onto the bar. Richard picked them up, removed the cellophane and then tore open the foil at the top, exposing a cluster of four cigarettes. He pinched one between the nails on his right thumb and forefinger before placing it between his lips. Realizing that he did not have a light-er, he began to look along the bar for an available implement. Jake saw what Richard was doing, leaned back, and reached into his front pocket and removed a Zippo lighter. All in one motion, he flipped open the lid, spun the flint-wheel igniting the wick and placed the flame where his friend could reach it. Richard leaned forward touching the tip to the fire. He drew the foul air into his lungs and noticed the artwork on the side of the lighter. It was an old Confederate soldier holding the Stars and Bars tightly by a wooden pole. He looked beaten, bedraggled and otherwise angry. The caption above his head read, ‘Forget hell!’
Richard took a second drag from his cigarette. He tried to blow a ring, but his attempt was unsuccessful. To the others it appeared as if he had eaten some-thing hot and was trying to blow away the pain. He saw the woman laughing at him.
For thirty minutes no one made an effort to acknowledge anyone else in the room. Richard spent that time smoking cigarette-after-cigarette. He tried to visualize shaping his mouth such that the perfect ring would be formed. Those mental images were manifest-ed through a contorted face for all to see. He stopped when he snuffed out a butt and felt the tar on his teeth as he ran his tongue over them. Casually, he spun around on his stool and with his back against the bar he propped his elbows on its edge and looked to his right. There was a young girl seated a few stools away and a person who appeared to be her boyfriend stood dutifully behind her. Chivalry isn’t totally dead, Richard thought to himself. The girl turned and saw him looking at her. She wore a small, tight, white t-shirt. Her breasts were large and round and the shirt she had on was stretched to its limit. The two made eye contact and they politely smiled at one another. Her face was young and fresh and as flawless as her body.
She stood and walked over to him. She sat down and extended her hand and said, “Hi, my name is Kelly.”
He politely shook her hand. “Hello. I’m Richard.”
Her boyfriend followed and stood behind her. He appeared to be very drunk and not in a congenial mood. Richard extended his hand to the young man. “My name is Richard.” The guy glared at his gesture and nodded. His head wobbled and teetered. The look on his face was dazed and he appeared more intent on keeping the contents of his stomach down than making friends.
“He’s Bob,” Kelly said, apologetically.
“Is he okay?” Richard asked. “I mean … to drive home. Will you both be able to get home okay?”
“Yeah, he drinks all the time,” she said as she stood and waved at someone across the room. “It was nice meeting you,” she said as she bounced away. Bob stayed behind, still concentrating on stabilizing his world.
Richard did not wish to appear rude and turn his back on Bob, so he sat silently facing him, not knowing what to say. The young man stared blankly over the bar. “Don’t fuck with me,” he said to the empty space be-hind the counter.
Richard looked to where Bob was staring. No one was there. He wasn’t sure what he had done to warrant a threat, so he spun around on his bar stool and leaned against the counter as he had before, choosing to ignore the potential danger. He pulled another cigarette from the pack and took a deep drag after lighting it. Without another word the young man walked away to join his girlfriend and her male friend.
After a few minutes the front door to the bar opened and a tall, thin man stepped inside. Inexplicably, Richard was drawn to him. He held a pipe between his teeth. His hair was completely gray and he wore a hound’s-tooth coat. The man was a very distinguished looking gentleman. Quickly, he snuffed out his cigarette and slid the ashtray as far away as he could without being conspicuous. Richard recognized the man. He was Dr. Grant, Richard’s childhood dentist. More importantly, he was the father of three of his good friends. He walked toward Richard with a purpose and sat on the seat that Kelly left moments earlier.
In a deep, booming voice, the man said, “Hello, Richard.”
“Hey, Dr. Grant. How have you been?” he re-plied nervously, in the same manner that a child who had been caught smoking might talk to an adult.
“Very well, thank you, and yourself?”
“Not too bad. How are John, Tom and Melissa?”
The man laughed, talking as he bit the stem of his pipe. “Melissa, she’s perfect, as always. The boys I worried about until just a few years ago.” He removed the pipe from his mouth and blew smoke into the air. “They seem to have hope for their lives now.”
Richard was honored that Dr. Grant spoke to him so frankly, as if they were contemporaries. His mind filled with memories of playing little league base-ball with the doctor’s sons, and the kindness he had shown to the entire team. The distinctive smell of pipe tobacco sparked the pleasant reminiscences. “I’ll never forget whenever we won a big game, you would take the entire team to McDonald’s as a treat. We had several of those nights thanks to you.”
The doctor appeared genuinely touched. “You remember that?”
“Of course! I remember a lot of things you did for us. I remember that, before every game you would bring a box of Trident gum to the dugout. There was enough for each player on the team to have a pack of their own.”
He laughed. “Sugarless gum!” He extended his hand. “Richard, I have to get home, but it was good to see you. I am happy that I stumbled in here.”
Richard stood and shook the man’s hand while placing his left hand on the back of Dr. Grant’s, embracing the pleasantry between the two. He knew he would never see him again, but the encounter helped to stifle the cavalcade of maddening life experiences, ever so briefly.
The doctor walked out as quickly as he had come in. Richard sat down. “Merlin, can I get another drink, please?”
The bartender went about the task of making another drink. While he waited, Richard looked over at Jake. His friend’s posture conveyed the desire to be left alone. Once again, he found himself looking at the woman at the end of the bar. She was striking her light-er, over-and-over, waiting for the flame to appear. Richard examined her and realized that she had the same tattoo that Sara did. He looked more closely at her face. Could it be? He thought. It was Carol, the woman he dated just prior to meeting Susan. Merlin placed Richard’s drink on the bar and he picked it up as he began to walk toward his ex-girlfriend.
“Hello, Carol,” he said, as he closely examined the tattoo on her chest. It was the exact tattoo Sara had. Richard pointed to it. “You broke up with me because I got a tattoo while we were dating. So what’s up with that?”
She looked down at her chest. “That? It’s an ode to a man that I had no respect for while we dated.”
“But there is obviously more than one name under that ribbon,” he said.
“It’s all the same, Richard. I have had men court me and I was a miserable bitch, I think, just for the sake of seeing how much of my bullshit they would put up with. Then, when my husband cheated on me, and we got divorced, I was more miserable than ever. That’s when you came along. You tried very hard to please me and I treated you like crap.”
“Let me get this straight; your idea of a successful relationship is to find a man that will put up with whatever you can dish out until one of you collapses under the pressure?”
Her smile was crooked and unconvincing. “That’s what I grew up seeing in my parent’s relation-ship. Why should I have known any better?” Her question was tinged with sympathy.
Richard hated the thought that Susan might be doing the same thing. He tried to chase away any correlation between the two women. “To be honest with you Carol, it’s all forgotten.”
She lit a cigarette and stared at him, refusing to offer an apology.
“I’m going for a piss,” he said, flatly. Entering the bathroom he walked up to the urinal without looking at the wall in front of him. The song, Solitary Man, by Neil Diamond echoed through his head. He took a wide stance to steady himself on intoxicated legs.
When he returned from the bathroom he noticed there was another young lady seated at the end of the bar. This woman wore an orange and red sundress. Her tan skin perfectly complimented the colors of her outfit. He paused to absorb every line of her body. She leaned against the bar with her forearms on its edge. Richard saw her bosom under her outstretched and taut arm. Its size perfectly complimented the shape of her hips. Her hourglass figure called out to be held. He walked boldly to the empty seat next to her, sat down and looked straight ahead toward Merlin. Richard did not want to appear forward. The anticipation of who he would see when he looked into her eyes was too much to bear.
He took a sip of his drink. When he placed it back onto the bar he wiped the corners of his mouth with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Slowly he turned his head and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Her face was distinguished and classically beautiful. The neckline of her dress plunged, exposing a wonderfully voluptuous cleavage. Her ex-posed skin was smooth and invited a gentle touch. “Hello Elizabeth Martin,” he said to the woman he had known since childhood.
She turned calmly and faced him, not the least bit surprised to see her lifelong friend. “Hello, Richard.”
“You are the last person I ever thought I’d see in here.”
She shrugged her bare shoulders holding them up to her ears. “Here I am.”
“Yeah, here you are.” Richard’s voice was soft as he admired her beauty. “So what have you been doing with yourself all these years?”
“I got married ten years ago and moved to Tam-pa. How about you?”
“I moved to Orlando, then got married. My wife and I moved back here a few months ago.”
The smile on Elizabeth’s face reflected melancholy. “Wife?” It made Richard feel good to know that she was sad to hear that he was married. “How’s married life treating you?”
“It was great, but now I’m afraid my wife and I are growing apart.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
His bravado could not mask the hurt he felt. “Ah, it’s no big deal. We’ve all had failed relationships, right?”
“I’ll drink to that,” Elizabeth said as she raised her wine glass into the air before taking a sip.
Richard found that he could not take his eyes off of her. She was as intoxicating as the bourbon that consumed him, but her effect was immediate. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he blurted out.
She smiled. “I appreciate the compliment, but you haven’t seen me since I was twenty years old. I was hardly a woman then.”
“Elizabeth, I have known you since you were eight years old. I vividly remember your mother, you, and your two sisters walking down the road on your way to church every Sunday. All of you were dressed impeccably and were beautiful. The four of you were beautiful then, and you are now.” The words felt good for him to say. It was a truth that he had held in the recesses of his mind, or maybe his heart, for many years.
“That is the nicest compliment I have ever received.”
Richard suddenly felt uncomfortable. Words failed him. He wanted desperately to continue talking to his old friend, but he said everything he needed to in one breath, or so he thought. After a few moments the silence between the two became prickly. He decided to re-start the conversation by asking her a question that he really didn’t care to hear the answer. “How did you and your husband meet?”
“I went on vacation with a few of my friends to Cancun. We met there, on the beach. In retrospect, I think it was all about lust,” she confessed.
The word ‘lust,’ as it came from her mouth, pierced his heart. To ease the pain he thought about how great she must look in a bikini. The vision went further as he imagined her nude and how the tan lines on her body might frame her tender regions. “You know, Elizabeth, of all the women I have known in my life, you are the only one I ever questioned, ‘what might have been?’”
“Really? That seems odd to me since we never dated.”
“I know it’s crazy!” Suddenly, Richard was embarrassed. “Forget I said anything.”
“No,” she said, sharply. “Do you mean to tell me that you were attracted to me; that you wanted to ask me out?” He took another large sip of courage. “Yes, of course. Everyone wanted to date you.”
“I never even knew that you were interested in me.”
“The question still stands,” Richard insisted, boldly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was a question to be answered. I thought you made a statement.”
It was hard for him to say the things he had already said. He had to muster the nerve to be direct with a woman he admired for decades. “If I had asked you out, would you have said ‘yes?’” Richard finished the drink in front of him, and raised the glass toward Merlin. He did not wait for, and was afraid of, the answer.
Elizabeth paused as she thought, signaling to him that he would hear something that would hurt. He anxiously awaited the delivery of his next drink.
Finally, she answered his question: “Yes.” He let out a sigh of relief. She continued. “To be totally honest with you, Richard, I never saw myself as your type.”
Her comment did not come as a shock. He had always held her in high regard and felt that there was no way he could ever make her happy.
“I’m not trying to come off as you weren’t good enough for me, because I think you were. It’s just that you always seemed to be attracted to women who were … ”
“Loose?”
She nodded. “Well, yeah. The girls you went out with in high school were always the ones who had reputations.”
Richard thought about his adolescent years. The memories were fresh. He ached to hold a woman that loved him and to feel the emotional bond between them. That was a feeling he searched for his entire adult life. “If it makes any difference, I would have waited as long as you wanted.” Then he realized that Susan asked him to wait, and he had. A lot of good that did. Her lack of response signaled the end of the conversation. He walked away. Merlin placed his drink in front of him, which was finished in short order. He felt the anger of what his life had become rage inside him. Suddenly, there was nothing that could be lost by subjecting him-self to Jake’s wrath. “Why is it that you react to every-thing in anger?”
Jake leaned back on his stool slowly. The look on his face grew stern. Richard waited for the inevitable punch. It did not come. No one had ever asked him that question and he had never contemplated the answer. It came as a surprise that he was able to articulate his thoughts. “I was never taught, ‘why.’ My father would beat me mercilessly for doing something wrong, but never explain why what I had done was wrong. One time I remember being beaten because I ran into the road. I was four or five years old. His only reaction was to grab me and furiously beat me with his belt. I’ve been running head-long into traffic ever since.”
“Have you tried to change that behavior with your children?”
Jake did not respond. He pulled a cigarette from the pack of Winstons on the bar in front of him as a solitary tear streamed down his left cheek; then he finished the whiskey in his glass.
Richard stood and wobbled into the bathroom more dejected than he ever remembered being. His mind drifted, while swaying back-and-forth in front of the urinal, until an epiphany rattled his soul. He knew that there was no way he could be the husband or father he needed to be for Susan, or their kids. The nausea that he felt began to choke him. Never had he felt so irrelevant.
He emerged into the chaos of Merlin’s on legs that were as weak and unsteady as a newborn foal. His eyes burned and he was unable to fully focus on what lay ahead. Richard stumbled back to his stool and sat down. A woman that he recognized by the tattoo on the back of her neck sat next to him. Her hair was cropped, exposing an anatomical heart with a sword piercing it from its top through its bottom. “What’s up, Sahara?” He referred to his sister using the stage name she employed as a stripper.
“Hey, Rich-turd,” she replied, using the nick-name that she and some friends used to belittle him during his prepubescent years. “All those years you pleaded with me to change my lifestyle and look who’s on top now.”
Richard’s soul sank. “I only wanted what was best for you.”
She laughed. “After all that you have been through you are still as arrogant as ever. How do you know what’s best for me? You don’t even know what’s best for you.”
“It’s no wonder I ended up the way I did. Having an example like you of how to treat women doomed me for failure.”
The hypocrisy of everything he stood for in his life was not lost on Richard. He always knew what to say, but lived his life as recklessly as the people he loved. There were only two alternatives. He had reached the most critical juncture in his life. If Susan was not interested in being his wife, the charade had to end.