Days Beginning
Day 908
(William’s Perspective)
The sharp Ohio wind drove the cold to my bones. I stood in front of the door that was the threshold to everything. I paused and pulled the ring from my pocket and looked at it again. The pain was still there, the wound, just as sharp. Should I be here? The question pulled at me - begging me to go home and sit in front of the screen binge watching some thriller. I pushed the thought out of my head and returned the ring to my pocket. I was here for her, and I was going to see this through.
My hand, having found the door handle, pulled. I went inside, head down.
The obvious smell of old beer hit me as I headed toward an empty table in the back. It was a busy night for the middle of the week. Sitting, my eyes quickly scanned the room. This wasn’t an early-twenties crowd. From what I could see, the youngest-looking in the room must have been at least mid-forties, which would make me the youngest. My eyes hit the bar and I did a quick re-calculation. The bartender was younger than me. A pretty blonde with her hair up in a bun - too busy to participate in the regular bartender banter, at least for the moment.
I laid my tablet on the table in front of me and turned it on. I opened up the mail app and began typing. “Dear Verity,”
(Sage’s Perspective)
“Thanks, Sage!” Hank nodded as he walked away with his drink. He was my steady gin and tonic. When you've bartended at a place as long as I have, everything is familiar. The flicker of the lights tell you what time it is. The pungent smell of brass polish lets you know when it was last done. The number of empty seats tells you which night of the week it is. So you notice when something is off.
On a Tuesday night, it should have been six empty chairs - but tonight I counted five. I took a recount, and that's when I saw him - sitting in the back, unnoticed at first, but filling a seat that was supposed to be empty.
There are two things that bartenders know above all else - drinks and people. Training my eyes on the surprise visitor, I quickly summed him up. This guy was a zombie if I ever saw one. A little bit fruity on the surface, but something potent underneath. It was in his eyes as they darted back and forth. He tried to focus on his screen, but was obviously looking for something — or someone. There was something about him — maybe his eyes — that looked familiar, but I’ve seen a thousand faces. This one was new — maybe?
I started wiping the counter. It makes me feel better when I’m nervous. I stopped when I got to where Joe was sitting.
“Hey, Joe. What do you make of the guy in the corner with the tablet. You know who he is?”
“I’ve never seen him Sage, but I know why he’s here.”
“Yeah? You think he’s one of those?”
“I’d give him a few days, but if he’s still hanging around. Yeah. He’s one of those.”
I chuckled, feeling a little easier about it. “Those” were easy enough to handle and they didn’t generally stick around anyway. But when they did…well, sometimes I have to call him.
(William’s Perspective)
I finished the email and darkened my tablet’s screen. I looked around and realized that I was the only one in the place — with the exception of the bartender — that didn’t have a drink. If I was going to stick around for any amount of time, I was going to need to make myself at home. I headed toward the bar.
I got a half-inviting smile from the bartender, but the other half asked what I was doing here. So I answered.
“I’m William. I’m here for…”
“I’m Sage, and I know why you’re here,” she responded curtly.
“…a Guinness.” I finished.
“Oh. Oh, ok,” she put her head down, flustered — obviously having a different idea of my needs. “I would have taken you for a screwdriver type,” she muttered, attempting a recovery.
“No. Just a Guinness. Thanks.” I wasn’t friendly.
“I haven’t seen you before, William.”
“Yeah — I’m waiting for someone.” She passed the Guinness across the bar. “I’ll run a tab.”
Drink in hand, I headed back to my table.
(Sage’s Perspective)
He ordered a Guinness. “That’s a curve,” I thought. I was sure he’d be something…less. I got a glass ready.
“You’re new,” I accused while attempting a smile.
“Yeah. Waiting for someone. Thanks for the beer.” Curt and to the point, he took his beer and went back to the table. I wiped my way back to Joe.
“You’re right, Joe. He’s here for her.”
Day 913
(William’s Perspective)
I looked around the bar. The beverage napkins on the floor, the spilled drinks, the loud drunks and the quiet drunks. “This isn’t my scene — at least not without friends,” I thought to myself. My eyes wandered in Sage’s direction. Undeniable beauty, even after working long shifts dealing with noise and belligerence. A little bit of admiration for her began to rise in my chest. “Could she be friend material? Could she make this place more palatable if I got to know her?” The thoughts pushed into my mind, but then she looked up and the same old scowl — the one that had been there since the first night in the bar — came at me like a harpoon. “This isn’t my scene…” I thought again.
(Sage’s Perspective)
My eyes caught William looking at me — almost with a hint of admiration in his eyes. That’s when I knew it was time to be direct. I headed over to his table.
“Look, William," my voice rose. "You've been here five nights in a row 'waiting for someone who never shows up. Cards on the table. You're here for her, aren't you?"
His eyes went to the table, but not naturally. One would expect a little shame or embarrassment, but this seemed forced - like he was trying to give me what I wanted.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yes. I’m here for her. And I’ll be here for as long as it takes. So go ahead and bring me another Guinness, thanks! I haven’t hassled you, and I’ve always paid. You’ve got no reason to have a conflict with me.”
“My conflict isn’t with you. It’s with your motivation,” I argued. “You aren’t the first one to come in here for her. You won’t be the last. But most of them stop coming when I call them out on it.”
He didn’t respond. I looked him up and down — and relented. I turned to go get him another Guinness. As I started back to the bar, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Sister goes and gets A-lister status in Hollywood and I get to deal with all the crazies.” I shook my head.
Day 917
(William’s Perspective)
The bar was the same tonight as it was the night before, the night before, and the night before. I took a sip of my Guinness and turned on my tablet.
Dear Verity,
I’ve been here five days and every day is the same as the first. I don’t know if this will even work, but I won’t be able to move on if it doesn’t. I’m not going to give up, no matter what obstacles are put in front of me.
P.S. I still miss you.
I turned off the tablet without hitting send.
(Sage’s Perspective)
It was an unusually slow night, but William was here. He had been hear without fail for over a week, and my patience was wearing thin. He seemed obtuse enough, but he was looking for an ending that wasn’t coming, and to be honest, it was starting to feel a little pathetic. I poured him a Guinness and joined him at his table. He seemed surprised when I sat down but didn’t say anything.
“You know,” I started, “you’re number 539 to sit in this bar waiting for my sister to walk through those doors. What makes you so compelling that she'll show up here for you, but not for any of those other 538. What's the secret that makes you so desirable?”
“You want to know what makes me special? Let’s go out. We can go to dinner and dancing. How about that? Then you’ll know what makes me special.”
I looked him up and down. I was convinced he could eat, but this guy was no dancer. "No thanks," I refused flatly. "You're not my type. But that's it. Tonight's going to have to be your last night."
"Or what? I haven't done anything..."
"If you come back tomorrow, I'm going to have to call my dad — and I’m sure you already know he owns the place.”
(William’s Perspective)
I furrowed my brows. “Your dad? There isn’t really any reason to get him involved, is there?”
“If you won’t leave on your own, yeah. He’ll have you trespassed. I’d do it myself if I could,” she replied.
“You know, I don’t take up a lot of space, and you have plenty of regulars here. Why am I different than any other regular?”
“Because you’re here for Sarah. Regulars are here for the beer or other booze, conversation, and every once in awhile a little bartender therapy. But if everyone that came for a chance to meet Sarah got to stay, this place would just be a bunch of goofs waiting around for their shot. It’s not personal.”
“Ok. I’m not here for Sarah,” I retorted.
“Yeah, ok. Whatever. Consider this Guinness your last call. I wish you all the best in whatever life holds for you. It just doesn’t hold it here.”
With that statement of finality, she rose and went back to the bar.
Day 918
(Sage’s Perspective)
I scanned the room and for the first time in over a week, things seemed to be back to normal. The brass was two days post-cleaning, and it had just the right amount of fingerprints on it. All the right seats were empty. After a short sigh of relief, I noticed that one bar light had gone out.
“I’ll take it! I thought to myself. Changing a light bulb is a lot easier than trespassing someone.” I retrieved a bulb from the storeroom and started the swap.
“How many bartenders does it take to change a lightbulb?” I heard Joe ask.
“Two. One to turn the…” I trailed off as I looked across the room. My earlier optimism faded as I saw William enter the bar. He was late, but he was here. I watched — a little more surprised that even I would have thought — as he walked across the room. There was no hesitation or apparent apprehension on his part. It was just like any other night to him — but not to me.
I walked back to the bar without acknowledging him as he took his usual seat. Reaching for the phone, I made the call.
(William’s Perspective)
I had to admit to myself, as I took my regular seat, that Sage’s warning from the previous day had given be pause. But I wasn’t here for her and I knew if my resolve weakened that it had dire implications for all of us. I started to pull out my tablet, but was met with a voice that hadn’t been directed at me before.
“Hey, man. You might want to reconsider.”
I knew his name was Joe, but this was the first time he had any time for me. “Reconsider what?” I asked.
“Look, she’s just about to call her dad to have you trespassed. He’ll have to come down here. The police will have to come down here. No one is going to like you after this.”
“You didn’t like me before,” I responded.
“Meh. I was indifferent before, but you know, not everyone sitting in a bar is really that comfortable with the police. Sage will give them fair warning, but they won’t be happy about having to leave early if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said as I went back to pulling out my tablet, “but this is bigger than any of that. I’m not going anywhere.”
(Sage’s Perspective)
I was fuming. I hadn’t had to do a trespass warning for something like three years. This guy was going to make me call the police over something so trivial. I had given my dad a heads up a few days ago, so he was ready to come by — I shook my head — so unnecessary.
“Listen up!” I started from behind the bar. “I’m about to make a call and you all know what that means. You may not want to be here in thirty minutes.”
I texted my dad and then reached for the phone to call the police.
(William’s Perspective)
I watched Sage reach for her phone after her short speech to the customers. About six guys got up from their tables and headed for the doors. Two others from the bar followed them. Each of them gave me various levels of scowls as they did. One told Sage that he’d see her in about an hour when the coast was clear.
It took about 15 minutes for the police to arrive and for Sage to walk them to my table. The two officers stood by my table on either side of me with their hands on their hips.
“So, William. What’s the story here?” Began the good cop.
“No story officer,” I replied. “I’m just waiting for a Guinness.”
“You’re not getting one!” Interjected Sage.
The officer put his hand up to indicate that he would take care of it.
“Well, I like a good Guinness now and then,” he continued. “But this isn’t the only bar in town. Is there a reason you have to drink it here?”
My mouth opened answer when the bad cop nudged his partner and said, “Pat’s here.”
Both officers turned toward the door and Sage walked toward her dad.
(Sage’s Perspective)
I stood next to the two officers as they worked at getting William to head toward the door when my dad walked in. I stepped in his direction.
“Is that him over there?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.”
Dad walked toward the officers when he suddenly stopped, staring at William.
“Wait!” He started, and then walked more purposefully toward William. When he reached the table he extended his hand. “William Mercer?? THE William Mercer In my bar? What are you doing here?! Shouldn’t you be somewhere else recording your next album?”
He turned to me, “Sage! Get William a drink.” He dismissed the officers and pulled a chair up to the table.
My head tilted and jaw fell, but I turned toward the bar to pour a Guinness.
(William’s Perspective)
I watched as the officers walked away and Sage returned to the bar. There were days in the past that I would have felt a smug satisfaction at this outcome, but I haven’t felt that way in a long time. It was however, a good thing for me that Pat was a jazz fan. I didn’t know the man, but he obviously had good taste.
He pulled up a chair and took my hand in both of his, shaking heartily. “It’s nice to meet you! I have all your songs in my playlists, but you haven’t put out anything new in awhile.”
I made an attempt at a friendly smile and said, “Thanks.”
“No. Thank you for coming to my bar. Maybe we can make you a regular — I could totally have a stage built in over there where you could play your sax. It would be an honor to have you here on a regular basis, but what brings you here anyway? Sage thinks you’re here to meet Sarah, but what really brings you here?”
I directed my look at his face. “The truth?”
He returned my look and nodded. “Nothin’ less.”
“Well, the truth is,” I started. “The truth is that it’s a long story and I have to go back to Day 1 to tell it. Maybe it’s too much truth?”
“I’m an old man who has nothing but time. This bar pays my retirement, but I don’t work it. That’s up to Sage. So, yeah. If you’ve got a Day 1, let’s start there.”
So I did. Back to Day 1 — the day my life truly began.