I Drink therefore I AM

I Drink therefore I AM

Closing Time

By Luke J. Morris

               “I drink, therefore I am.”  Gulp. 
                The bartender pours another shot.  “So if you didn’t drink, you wouldn’t be"
  “Yep.”  Gulp again.
“Makes sense.”  He wipes the table.  “One more, then you gotta stop being for the night.”  He pours.
   “Damn.”  Sip.  “Where’m I supposed to go?” 
        Shrug.  “Where do you go when you aren’t?”
       He laughs.  “The Nether.”  Sip.  Sigh.  “Nah, I’ve been there.  Hades too.  And Hel.  And Purg… Purgie-whatever-it-is.  Dull places.  No life in ‘em.”
   “You could just go home.
             Another laugh, hateful and cold, then, “No.  No, I can’t do that.  Home’s where the heart is.  They tore mine out and burned it ages ago.  Can’t go back for what ain’t there.”  Sip.  “You know why I drink?”
                “To be?”
“Exactly.  Not think.  Not feel.  Not do.  Just be.”  Gulp.  “Damn.  One more?”
                The barman shakes his head, starts flipping chairs. 
               “Damn.  Means I’m gonna sober up.  Don’t want to do that.  To see things as they are.  To unbecome.”  He hangs his head and tries to cry, but fails.  “Ah, bugger it.”  He stands up.
                The barman looks at him.  “Leaving?”
                “Yeah, I’ll get outta your hair.  Such as it is.  Got places to avoid, people to ignore, things to shun.”
                A woman walks in, sultry and dark and commanding.  “Hello, Lu.”
                He stands still.  “Angela.”  His lips curl around the word. 
               “Can I help you?” the bartender asks.
               She laughs and shakes her head.  “Only one man can help me.  If ‘man’ is the right word.”
                Lu stares at her, through her.  “What do you want?”
                Her perfect teeth gleam in the dim light as she smiles, her black hair waterfalls over her shoulders and down her back as she tosses her head, her eyes spark blue fire as she looks at him.  “Word games, is it now?  Or can we just assume you know, and move on from there?”
                “I won’t do it,” he snarls.  “I’m never going back.”
                The bartender collects the glasses, puts up the chairs, turns off the signs.  He moves to unplug the jukebox, and the woman stops him.  “You,” she says, “play something nice, will you?”  He starts to refuse, but one look at her and he forgets that.  He puts on some mellow classic rock – Fleetwood Mac, he thinks, or maybe Jefferson Airplane, he’s not paying much attention – and continues his cleaning.
                Angela turns back to Lu.  “Why not?”
                Lu smiles miserably.  “Let’s just assume you know, and move on from there.”
                She crosses her arms and pouts.  “I don’t see why you can’t take me.  I wouldn’t make you stay; you could just drop me off and go.”
                “You know it doesn’t work that way.”
                “But I’m homesick!”
                “Tough.”
               She stomps her foot and fumes at him.  “You owe me, you know.  I helped get you here.”
                “Liar.”
                “Well… I thought about it.”
                “Liar.”
                “Come on, Lu!  I just want to go home.”
             “Then go.”  He leans against the bar, places a stick in his teeth, lights it, pulls in the smoke and breathes it out.  “I won’t hold you.”
       She shakes her head and tries to cry, to look pretty and pathetic at once.  “I can’t on my own.  You know that.  I need you to take me.”
                “It’s not my home.”
               She giggles viciously.  “Your home?  It’s the best, the only home you’ve got.  Whatever you still call your ‘home’ hasn’t been yours in eons.  If it ever was.  I mean, really, haven’t you always been the outsider?”
                He shrugs and looks away.  “Not by choice.”
              “Of course by choice!  You didn’t have to fight.  You didn’t have to cause trouble.  You could have kept your peace and did as you were told.  You chose not to.”
                “So I deserved it, then?”
              She scoffs.  “What difference does that make?”
                He nods.  She has a point. 
         The barman passes between them with his broom, sweeping up the day’s refuse that the day’s refuse left behind.  Angela smiles at him.  He smiles back, and sings softly along to the jukebox. 
                She turns to Lu again.  “You do have a home now, you know.  You can come back with me.  It’ll be just like old times.”
                “No.”  He shudders.  “Not ever.  Why would I want to go back there?  Why do you?”
              “Because it’s home.  The only one I have now.  The only one you have, too.  I mean, this – ” she sweeps her arm in a wide arc “ – is just a phase.  A passing fad.  It’s just so much dust.  Really, what do you get out of it, that you want to spend so much time here?”
                He smirks.  “The booze is good.”
                “Thanks.”  The bartender grins.
                “Fine,” she says.  “Stay, then.  Rot with this kind of trash.”
                “Yeah.  Yeah, I think I will.  I like this kind of trash – it don’t smell as bad as the other kind, it’s not as miserable, not as cramped.  I got room to breathe, to spread my wings here.”
                She sneers.   “Good luck with that.”
                “You know what I mean.  Or you would, if you opened your eyes.  Variety.  Possibility.  Life.  I don’t know who or what I am here, but I know that I am.”
                “I know that you are, too.  And I know who and what you are.  Your limitations.”  She stiffens.  Her eyes cloud over, a squall on the sea.  “I can make you take me home.”
                He stands tall.  His eyes darken, a rising storm.  “Good luck with that.”
                Electricity in the air, the barkeep stands transfixed, staring at both, seeing neither.
                She relaxes, then he.  The storm passes.
                “But… but what can I do?”
                “Enjoy it.  It’s an open world.  Explore.  Discover.  Find your pleasures.  Quit following me, and start a new mission.  Hell, get drunk for once!  It’s not all bad.  Unlike your home.”  He quashes his cigarette and heads for the door.  She stops him with a hand.
                “So… you want me to do that?  To carve out my place here?  To go out there and start raising Hell?”
                A pause.  He steps back and looks at her again.  “No.”
             She nods.  “Thought not.  But you’re giving me mixed signals.  Should you and I fight it out, should I make this place my new playground, or will you take me home?  Three choices, Lu.  Well?”
                He slumps, suddenly tired.  “Get out.” 
She stays. 
“Go.  I’ll meet you in the morning.  I’ll take you there.  Go.”
She smiles, turns, and leaves without a word.  The barman watches her go, the bounce of her hair, the sway of her hips, the shift of her shoulders, and he grins.   He turns back.
“You’re leaving tomorrow, then?”
“Looks that way.”
“For how long?”
“Eternity.  ‘Less I can kill her first.”
“Ah.  That your plan?”
“Yeah.  No.  I dunno.  Probably.  Gonna be a long day, that’s sure.”
The barkeep moves his head sympathetically.  “One for the road?”
“Please.”
He slips behind the bar, grabs a bottle, fills a tumbler, passes it over.  Lu picks it up, puts it to his lips, turns it, lets it drain, feels the burn as the minutes go by.  When it’s empty he slams it on the bar top.  He tosses a few large bills after it, picks up his hat, and heads for the door. “See you next time,” the bartender says. Lu smiles, a gleam in the darkness.  “Sure.”  And he glides out into the night.The bartender locks the door and shuts off the rest of the lights.  He whistles an old AC/DC song as he gathers his things.  He smiles.  It’s been a good day.