17
Prince is across from me picking apart shells and tossing the peanuts in his mouth like a mindless machine while Leon itches the top of his bare head in tempered interest.
“How could she know Saul?” I mutter.
Leon lets out a breath. “I dunno.”
“And Mario? By name? The way she said it too. Like she knows him.”
“Right,” Prince nods, squinting.
“You two don’t find it weird?”
“It’s weird man, yeah. It’s a little weird,” Leon admits.
“A little weird, he says. A little weird. It doesn’t make any sense at all.”
The guys aren’t remotely consumed by this and float some half-assed ideas about her moving here or having to work here for some reason, but none of it seems likely to me. There aren’t a whole lot of folks moving to Johnston these days, and when they did, it wasn’t exactly shrouded in mystery. Something just didn’t add up.
“In a rush. She was in a rush.”
Shit, man. I take a drink. Rose. She’s seeped into my mind with such ease it’s alarming.
It’s been a long night of drinking, and I know I’ll find zero sleep.
“Well.”
Leon finishes his beer and Prince taps the table a few times with his hands and says, “’Bout that time I suppose.”
The guys are tired and losing their buzz. Prince stands up and Leon follows.
“You coming?” Prince asks.
I shake my head, “nah.”
“My boy’s got it bad,” he laughs. Leon reaches over his big, calloused hand and places it on my shoulder. “All will be well. I think it’s exciting.” I shrug. He pats me a few times, “Goodnight pal.”
“See you guys.”
Prince salutes and they’re off. They know that I’ll shut the place down. Prince is going up to Ironhead for a couple days to hike around and find something gorgeous to be revitalized with this weekend, and Leon just wants to go home and make love to Mo before she heads in for her early morning shift. The door closes behind them and I’m left at Jimmy’s, drunk and alone.
I’m picking at the black paint on the edge of the table when it hits me that I haven’t even looked up to check on Saul in an hour. I do and I remember that I’m never truly alone in this bar. I’m just the last one standing other than good Saul there, who is leaning back against the register, depressed and lost in some dark musing, shooting lifeless looks at empty pint glasses. I get to my feet and walk over to him. Without much of a glance he goes, “Another one, Cash?”
“Yeah, man.”
I sit down. He holds the glass steady as the light golden liquid falls from the tap and rises to the brim. He slides it my way only to return to his curved tired lean, scraping some dirt out from underneath a fingernail. I imagine I’ll get to the goods in a second, but I take a drink first and say, “Why do you do it, man?”
He crinkles his forehead and mumbles, “huh?”
“I’m just wondering why you do it, hang around here all your life, bumming around kinda bored and all.”
“Fuck off, Cash.”
“No man, I’m serious.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I dig it here fine.”
“Nah man, you don’t.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“I know you, pal. I know you.”
“Where’s this coming from?”
“All I’m saying is I’m sitting over there most nights, and I keep eyes your way from time to time, and you look downright miserable is all.”
“I’m doin just fine.”
“Saul pal, I’ve known ya all my life.”
“Maybe ya ain’t so perceptive as ya think Cash.”
“Yeah, maybe not.”
And I knew that was the end of that road. There were only a few big talkers in Johnston, and Saul certainly wasn’t one of them. It’s a shame because when I’m drinking the words tend to roll out smoothly, and it’s easy for me to ramble on about life. Saul is looking down at his washrag and I know the man probably hasn’t had one long deep personal conversation in some twenty years.
“Saul, there was a girl that stopped by for a second here earlier.”
“A girl?”
“Yeah man, some girl lookin for you while you were out back or wherever the hell you were.”
“She have a name?”
“Yeah. Rose.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah man—”
“Thanks.”
And I’m looking at him focused, thinking there’s no way in hell a person could possibly let the conversation fall simple and flat like that when there was so much land left to explore. After a few more beats I see that’s exactly what Saul intends to do. Poor bastard. Poor communicatively stunted bastard. All our lives.
“Saul. Who is she?”
“Rose?”
“Yeah man, Rose.”
“Uhhh, I don’t know.”
“Bullshit man, c’mon, who the hell is she?”
“Why you so curious?”
“Pal, she came in here on a mission and was standing right next to me and told me to tell ya she was looking for you. And she left it all straight mysterious there like that. And I’ve never seen this girl before in my whole life, not before these past couple weeks. And now she’s everywhere. Everywhere. And she knows you . But I know everyone you know. So, how’s this possible?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look man, I told ya she was lookin for ya and I think I deserve to know at least who the hell she is.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Well?”
“Well. She’s my sister.”
“Your sister?”
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“My sister.”
“You think that’s funny?”
“No.”
“You don’t tell one joke your whole life and now she’s your sister.”
“I’m not joking.”
“You don’t have no fuckin sister Saul.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Stop fuckin with me man, for real. Really, I gotta know, who is she?”
“Fuckin told ya Cash, she’s my sister.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Pops had her with a woman some years way back and she was raised out over wherever the hell, Ryland area roundabouts.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Your sister.”
“Yeah. Never knew her. She’s movin back this way and don’t even ask me why ’cause I tell ya I really don’t know.”
But I did. I knew. I knew the second I saw her, and I felt it again when she walked in tonight. It was the first moment of a magnificent play. The start of the best part of the story. I nod to myself slowly, take a big old drink, and decide to give Saul the rest of the night off from any conversation. I could ask more questions later, and I would. But I know it in my soul. I know it. Everything has changed. I can’t tell ya how, but it’s different now, all this. I’m becoming lost in my dreams, the golden dark shades of beer in the glass are shifting. The light shines in and out like a kaleidoscope of hazel and brown as the bubbles move up to the surface. It’s all one gorgeous dance, isn’t it? I think of Saul’s sister. Rose. I think of the beginning of theater shows, and how they’re always just burning with hope.