Page 37 of As the Years Pass
The only good thing to happen, was my decision to sell my house. I should have done it while I was still working to get the full cut, but it is what it is. I have one of my ex-co-workers handling it for me, and I’ll get a good chunk of money regardless. That’ll help me get by until I find a suitable job. The interviews all go well and most of them offer me positions, but none of them feel right.
I guess that would be the case after being somewhere for so long, but I don’t want to accept the first job I’m offered either. Especially the sort of job that requires a contract. I don’t want to get stuck somewhere if it sucks, and I need to work things out with Leslie and the kids before I commit to a work schedule.
She told me we’d talk when the holidays were through. New Year’s just passed, so I’ll give her a few days. The holiday used to be so much fun for me. It was always like a fresh start, a clean slate. Leslie and I would have some drinks, watch the ball drop, and kiss at midnight.
The last few years, it’s meant nothing. Especially the few that I’ve spent alone. I considered going to the bar, but stayed home instead. I wasn’t feeling like socializing and I really didn’t want to run into Emmet.
I toss and turn in bed, unable to sleep. I napped for four hours today, so I’m sure that’s the problem. The lingering headache isn’t helping either, and I’m sure that’s also caused from the nap. I love the idea of them, and it always feels good going into it, then you oversleep and wake up feeling hungover. It’s never worth it, yet I keep doing it.
I throw the blankets off me and get out of bed to put on some clothes.
If I can’t sleep, I may as well go to the bar and get drunk. It’s notthatlate.
Maybe I’ll drink so much I’ll stumble home and pass out on the floor. Then I’ll really be hungover tomorrow. I can’t remember the last time I had a hangover—it’s been years. Before I had the kids. Whenever I went to the bar recently, it was just to relax and have a drink or two, never more than that. Definitely not to get trashed. But tonight… I’m feeling like I need a little more.
And maybe Emmet will be at the bar and I can figure out what the hell his problem is.
The rain holds off just enough for me to get to the bar, but downpours the moment I pull open the door. I’m not sure how people who live here haven’t grown gills or some other kind of natural evolutionary thing to help them live in the wetness.
It’s busy in the bar, but it’s Thursday, so I guess that’s expected. It’s sort of the weekend, and it’s the day after New Year’s, so people are still partying. I see the group of guys that are normally here all gathered together at a table in the back with more people than usual. There’s a spot at the bar open, so I hop on the stool.
“Your usual?” Pete asks.
“Please.”
He makes my drink while taking orders from others who come up to the bar. You can tell he’s been doing this for a long time. He mindlessly slides me my drink, then continues to make others and take orders like it’s second nature. It’s busy enough to have two bartenders on shift, yet he’s the only one I ever see. I wonder if this is Emmet trying to cut corners and not pay someone else. Though, I will admit, Pete seems pretty calm handling all of this himself, and he was here before Emmet took over.
My gaze keeps darting to the back room. I can’t see much from here, at this angle, but if he walked by, I’d definitely see that. I assume the office is back there, but from where I sit, all I can see are some counters and a sink. I’ve never seen anyone here eat anything outside of chips and nuts, though, so I doubt any of that is used.
I want to ask Pete if Emmet is here, but he’s busy. I also shouldn’t come here all the time looking for him. Maybe I should take his silence as a hint? No, I need to hear it straight from his mouth. If he wants me to leave him alone, he needs to tell me. So, I pull my phone from my pocket and send him a text.
I’m at the bar. Are you here?
I set it down, screen up so I can see it go off if he responds. I sip my drink and stare at my phone, faintly listening to the people around me having fun with their friends.
I’m the only person who’s here alone. Sure, if I went up to the guys who are always here, I’m sure they’d let me hang out, but I’m not that kind of person. Because of my job, I’m good at talking to people, but that’s when work is involved. When it comes to me personally? It’s different. What do I have to offer? Talking about my kids and how miserable my life is? No one wants to hear that.
Hours go by, and it’s nearing closing time.
Emmet hasn’t texted back.
The crowd starts to thin out, and when Pete gets me my fifth drink, I finally find the nerve to ask.
“Is Emmet here?”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, then says, “No.”
Something about the way he says the word seems weird, but then again, I have had a lot to drink. More than I’ve ever had here before. But that was the plan, wasn’t it? I came here with the intention to get drunk. Should five drinks have me drunk?No, probably not, but I’m a lightweight these days. Or maybe this is normal and all the other people here are the weird ones who can tolerate shots and drinks for hours on end. Who knows?
“Okay,” I say, but he holds my gaze for a moment longer before moving on.
Is he trying to tell me something?
Chapter Fifteen
Emmet
I should hide out at home when I want to be alone, but it’s too empty. I need the sound of people and things going on or it drives me crazy. I’ve tried the TV at home, but it isn’t the same. Plus, I have a lot of work to do, so the bar is where I need to be.
