Tuesday morning. It was eleven and The Bartender had just finished setting up for the day. The smell of fresh cut lemons and sanitizer permeated the air. The granite bar top was shining under the dim lights.
As he leaned against the back bar, finishing his second cup of coffee, he wondered what his day would look like. Would it be non-stop until his relief came in at five? That’s how the previous week had been. Holidays tended to do that. Or would it be a relaxing day with a couple of regulars? Either way, he was ready. Three days off had given him plenty of time to recharge his metaphoric batteries.
Then it was noon. No customers yet. The Bartender looked up from his phone that he had been browsing on for the last hour. As he peered out the window, he noticed gray clouds rolling in. Looked like the weather forecast was wrong today. Bright and sunny, my ass, He thought to himself. More snow on the way.
He heard the door open. “Welcome in! Take a seat wherever. I’ll be right with you.”
A lone woman walked in and made her way to the bar, picking a spot in the corner next to the wall.
“What can I get you?” The Bartender asked.
“Pinot Noir, please,” She replied, pulling a book out of her bag.
“You got it. How’s your day been so far?”
Her response was barely a grunt, which told The Bartender all he needed to know. She was not interested in small talk. Not today. His years of experience as a bar psychologist gave him the sense that she was there to hide and not be noticed.
“Would you like a menu? I personally recommend the Reuben sandwich.”
“No thanks. Just the wine for now.”
Message received. She was polite, but the message was clear: Leave me alone with my wine and my book, Bartender. He was happy to oblige.
The Bartender left her with her book and started doing busy work. Didn’t want to appear lazy with a customer around. It was still early, but he had time. So, he set about preparing garnishes for the evening bartender. Once he tired of cutting lemons, limes, and oranges, he started taking inventory of the liquor. No small task in a bar that had over 100 different brands of whiskey on the shelf. But the order needed to be sent in the next day if he didn’t want to run out over the weekend.
One o’clock rolled around. Looked like it was going to be a slow day. He had hoped for that after the craziness of the previous week. He had been keeping an eye on his lone customer. She had been nursing her glass of wine for the past hour while quietly sobbing over the pages of her book. That book must be a tear -jerker, thought the Bartender, I wonder what it’s about. Her glass was getting low. He was about to ask if she wanted a refill when her phone rang. She took one look at the screen, silenced it, and flipped it over so she couldn’t see it anymore, slamming it on the granite bar top a little harder than The Bartender assumed she meant to. Maybe it wasn’t the book she was quietly sobbing over.
“Can I get you another glass of wine?” The Bartender asked after giving her a couple minutes to calm down from the unwanted phone call.
“Ketel One martini. Extra dirty. Stirred not shaken. And a shot of Milagro Silver. No salt or lime”
“Coming right up.”
Switching from wine to a martini and tequila after a phone call. Definitely not crying over the book. He thought to himself as he grabbed the vodka and dry vermouth. He hoped she was all right, but it was none of his business.
One thirty came. The Bartender had almost given up hope of anyone else coming in for lunch other than the lone patron. However as soon as the thought entered his mind, the door opened and a group of people walked in. They looked like they had just come in from a blizzard. Bright and sunny, my ass. He thought to himself for the second time that day, cursing the meteorologist on the morning news. “Welcome in folks, grab a seat wherever and I’ll be right with you.”
The group sat at a dining table at the front of the room and ordered cocktails. A business lunch celebrating… something. The Bartender didn’t really care to know. As he was making their cocktails, another group came through the door and he repeated the same line he had said thousands of times before.:
“Welcome in folks, grab a seat wherever and I’ll be right with you.”
Next thing he knew, The Bartender had five different groups spread all around the bar. Not too busy for the seasoned professional, but enough to keep him busy with making drinks, taking orders, running food, and clearing empty plates. All while keeping an eye on the lone woman at the bar. Just like with her glass of wine, she was taking her time with her martini. Low maintenance. The Bartender’s favorite type of customer. Still reading her book, the sobbing had stopped. Her dark green eyes still had a hint of tears previously falling, but her expression had turned numb.
Three o’clock came. Only two hours left until The Bartender could head home. By this time all but one of the groups that had come in had paid their tabs and left. The last group was finishing their last few bites of food. The Bartender had gotten the woman at the bar another martini. No shot of tequila this time though. Hopefully a good sign.
“Check please!” The Bartender heard from his last remaining table. As he brought them their bill and collected payment from them, out of the corner of his eye he saw a man slip in the front door and sit directly next to the woman at the bar.
The last group left and The Bartender was clearing off tables while keeping an eye on the two. The man looked typical for the area. Lean, slightly taller than average. Light brown hair in a conservative, short cut. His high-end hiking shoes and puffy down jacket gave him the “hiker chic” look that nearly everyone seemed to go for. The Bartender purposefully lingered, wiping down a table that was close enough to hear their conversation, but far away enough to avoid suspicion of eavesdropping. Yet another skill he had honed after years behind a bar.
He normally wouldn’t have cared about their conversation, but the way she had seemed earlier in the day and the way she was acting now that this man had come in caused him some concern. The man was speaking quietly but intensely. The woman cowered against the wall, like an animal who had been cornered and was making itself seem as small as possible. It was very clear that she did not want this man anywhere near her. The Bartender assumed that he was the reason she had come to the bar today.
Unsure of what to do, The Bartender finished cleaning his last table and made his way back behind the bar to his spot between the beer fridge and the wine cooler.
“Please go. Just go.” The woman said, tears threatening to return.
“Not until you come with me,” said the man, a hint of malice in his voice. “You’re embarrassing yourself and me. If you just listened to me then I wouldn’t have to do shit like this. You drive me crazy.”
The woman simply repeated her plea for him to leave. That was all The Bartender needed to hear.
“I’m going to need you to finish this conversation elsewhere,” The Bartender said, looking the man directly in the eye. The Bartender trembled slightly from a sudden rush of adrenaline. He’s had to kick people out of his bar before, but normally just for drinking a little too much and getting too rowdy. This was the first time he had ever dealt with a man like this. But he stood his ground and maintained eye contact. The man’s eyes flashed with anger as he glared back at The Bartender.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay and leave.” Said the woman, watching the two men stare each other down to see who would flinch first.
“No ma’am. You’re fine right where you are.” The Bartender said to the woman. He then addressed the man. “I’m asking you to leave. Now.” The man, realizing that The Bartender wasn’t going to back down, finally broke eye contact. He gave one final venomous look at the woman, and then stormed out the front door.
The Bartender exhaled as the door closed, and he watched the man through the window disappearing into the snowfall. He turned to retake his position by the beer fridge, but before he could step away he heard the woman’s quiet voice behind him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,.” The Bartender responded. “Stay as long as you need.”
Then came 4 o’clock. One hour left until The Bartender could go home, maybe less if the evening bartender came in early, although not likely with the unexpected snowfall. “You can close me out,” Said the woman, placing her credit card on the bar. The Bartender closed her out, and then the woman left. All was quiet. As if the scene that had occurred earlier had never happened at all.
He thought about her for the last bit of his shift. He hoped she’d be ok, hoped that she’d never go back to that man.
Much to his surprise, the evening bartender did get there early. “How was your day?” She asked while hanging up her coat. “I need a drink.” was The Bartender’s only response. And those four words were all she needed to hear. “See you tomorrow, then.”
The Bartender sat in his car, a decision before him. Does he turn left and head home? Or does he turn right and head to the only other bar in town, and sit at the end of their bar, trying to escape reality if only for a little while.
He put on his turn signal, and drove off into the falling snow. Bright and sunny, my ass.