The place was filled with people as he went in. Not his usual scene, but this was his regular spot to go to, especially on nights when he needed to. It took some time for him to squeeze past the crowd which was packing the entrance hallway, ignoring all of the flirty or whimsical looks that came his way. He managed to make his way to the bar area, where he’d already given up hope beforehand of finding a seat where he could just mind his own business.
Amidst the noise and the music, he heard an all too familiar voice on top of it: “I HAVEN’T SEEN THOSE PRETTY EYES IN A WHILE!” He looked at the bar and he saw the bartender looking back at him with a smile. All he can manage back was a smirk; and looked around him, seemingly describing the unusual packed crowd and how surprising the situation is. She motioned him to head to the other end of the bar in the middle of serving drinks to customers. He eventually got there, where surprisingly, one barstool was empty. He finally sat down, much to his relief.
“Hey, Corrine,” was all he can say as the bartender arrived. “Hey there, yourself. Long time,” she replied.
“Yeah, it’s been a while. Though the last time I was here, you weren’t,” he said. “Your father was manning the tap,” he added.
“He’s on vacation, probably somewhere south,” she said. “Been running the place for about a week now. But it’s good to see you here.”
“You’re not looking bad yourself,” he replied back. “How long has it been, three, four years?,” he asked.
“More like five, I guess,” she answered. “I think It was just after that…,” then she suddenly stops, realizing she shouldn’t continue.
“Hey, no, that’s fine. It’s okay,” he said, breaking the awkwardness between them. “Don’t worry about it. It has nothing to do with you. If anything, you were one of the first ones to come see me with your Dad, remember? So it’s good,” he reassured her.
“But still, that’s something I think I’ll never forget,” she says back.
“Yeah, well, things have been a bit better since then. Your Dad helped get me through the months after that. Me coming here regularly was sort of like, therapy.”
There was a moment of pause where all both of them can hear are just the music and the crowd partying it up. She snapped out of her momentary awkwardness and asked, “like I said, it’s good seeing you here. Now what can I get you?”
He looked at her with a sheepish grin, unsure of whether he wanted to tell her. “Look, I thought your father’s here. I’m not quite in a good place right now and I was hoping he’d be back there,” he finally said.
Corrine leaned back, her mouth was slightly opened with shock, and said, “wait, you’re not here for a session, aren’t you? Please tell me that you’re not here for that.”
“Wait, how’d you know about that?!,” he surprisingly asked.
“My Dad told me everything about three years ago,” she answered. “How you’d come here and ‘do your business’ with those ‘sessions’ just to keep you grounded. He even taught me how to make it up,” she added.
“What? No, no, no… why? Why would he do that?” he muttered to himself as he pounded his fist at the bar.
“Because he had to,” came the swift response from Corrine. “He knew he wasn’t going to be around forever, and he doesn’t trust anyone, so he decided to teach me how to do it. Believe me, it was something I didn’t want to learn, but knowing it’s for you, and how you meant, and still mean to our family after all you’ve done for us, I had to. I just had to.”
“Oh, man…,” was all he could say. The past few weeks were a hard struggle for him. He tried to do the best he can and put on a brave or happy face, but it was already taking a toll on him. Going to that place for a session was a hard enough decision to make; but he knew he had no other option.
“Look, just tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen. And I swear you won’t be bothered,” she tells him.
“Look around you,” he replied. “It’s a packed house. How is that even possible?”
“You think my Dad didn’t go through all the possible scenarios with me?”
“Did he?”
“That and more,” she said confidently.
Resigned to his fate, he heaved out a sigh. “Alright then,” he started. “I’ll have a double.”
“Oh wow, a double. Really?,” she asked, surprised at the request.
“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t in a good place, so yes, a double,” he firmly replied.
“Alright, pretty eyes. Be right back with your double,” she said as she walked away with a wink to him.
If anything, the crowd and music seemed to get louder while he waited for her to come back. He doesn’t know how everything will go down in this kind of environment; it’s as if it was a sign for him to turn back. But mentally looking back at the last few weeks, he hasn’t felt that way in a long time. He needed this.
Another few minutes passes by, and then she comes back, clutching a tray with both hands. On the tray sits four medium-sized shot glasses, all filled to the brim with a different-colored drink. She sets the tray down carefully and places the drinks in front of him one by one.
“Here’s your double,” she says, somehow admiring the arrangement she made.
“What’s this for?,” he asked, pointing at the shot glass containing a grayish liquid.
“Oh, that one’s for me, in case I need to get you out,” she replied.
He looked at her with a smile. “Your Dad really taught you everything, huh?”
She smirked back and said, “go do what you have to do. Like I said, no one will bother you.”
“Thank you,” was all he could say as she turned around to serve another round of customers at the bar. He looked at the drinks in front of him, held the light-reddish one, breathed a deep sigh and said, “here we go” as he downed it.
At first, nothing happens. The crowd and the music just kept on going. His head was down, eyes are closed. Then, he felt a slow build of euphoria as the beat of the music was seemingly becoming more intense and felt good to his ears. It’s as if the volume was being turned up gradually, but he just kept on lightly bobbing to it.
Then suddenly, silence. Deafening silence.
He stopped tapping his fingers to the now vanished music. He opened his eyes slowly, and gradually raised his head. All he saw was an empty bar, an empty establishment. It was somehow bright, but there seemed to be no light source. He looked around. He’s still at the bar, alright. But it was devoid of any living soul except his.
As he took a deep breath, a dark, low-pitched, devilish slow chuckle interrupted the piercing silence.
“I’ve been expecting you,” came a ghastly voice afterwards.
(to be continued)
Markie's Journal 