Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
CINDEL
About a twenty-minute walk in the wrong direction of the bar, is a small postage store with a hanging metal sign that reads: Mail Haven.
Bronze mailboxes line one side of the establishment, embossed with numbers and individual key slots for each one.
Customers could easily come in, grab their mail and leave, all without interacting with a single soul.
An older gentleman with an inky black comb-over and orange embroidered polo greets me upon entering.
“Hello, hello, hello. What you here for?”
Bilingual got it. The man seemed wide-eyed, almost shocked I was there.
I hope this is the right place. I gave a polite wave before stepping forward, placing my box on the counter.
Hastily, he puts on his readers as I hold up the slip of paper with the address, from the lady’s envelope.
Holding the note much farther out than necessary, he finally speaks.
“Ah, yes. I know, I know, I know.”
He scurries to his computer, types on the keyboard, and a label begins to print from a machine, off to the side.
“I’m sorry, but do you happen to know who this box is for?” I smile very sweetly.
“No,” he replies without a hint of warmth.
“It would be wonderful to thank the person who purchased such a substantial amount from me.”
He fetches the label, peels the sticker, and slaps it on. Before I have a chance to see what the white rectangle says, he transfers the box to a back counter; farther than any pair of human eyes could possibly make out.
“No,” he replies again, before returning to the task of folding and forming cardboard boxes.
I mirror the man’s position on the opposite side of the counter. “Please.”
He shakes his head and gives a slight eye roll. “No. We mail drop for customer. Forward to new place. Customer no pick up here.”
I understand what he meant now. He simply didn’t have the information. The new address would be another courier service.
“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you anyhow,” I reply.
The steadfast shop owner has no idea who this client is. The underhanded business most likely doesn’t cater to the average Joe. Who would need that level of anonymity? I doubt the man would even tell me if he did know.
Before The Black Sheep opens, Brittany and I use step ladders to hang spider webs from the pendulum lights above the bar.
We pull them across and down, stretching them to the beer taps below.
The new girls, Leslie and Maya, work on covering the wall sconces in off-white gauzy fabric, making the already dimly lit atmosphere increasingly darker.
We work together to set up life-sized skeletons at the end of the bar, complete with top hats and copper mugs in hand.
The place looks qualified to host the annual Halloween Bar Bash.
I have a fondness for the holiday. Looking forward to everyone’s creative costumes and eating enough candy to make myself ill the following day.
This year, I have my costume ready on time.
No need to pull an all-nighter with my sewing machine.
I was so caught up drawing a cauldron on the chalkboard, I didn’t realize Eamon and Connor had arrived until they both came out of the backroom.
Eamon stumbled just past the threshold. Appearing more like a newborn giraffe than his usual poised self.
Was he… drunk? I mean, he did own a bar.
It wasn’t foreign to see a whiskey in his hands.
Even if he went from Mr. Neat to It’s Eamon actually, I’ve never actually seen him inebriated.
Connor went out the front door, mumbling about the impossible task of finding candy the day before Halloween. I was relieved to see Eamon made it to a chair, plopping down next to the skeletons at the high counter.
“Whiskey!” He slaps the countertop.
The girls and I must all be thinking the same thing. Looking between one another, no one makes a move to serve our already drunk boss.
“Alright then.” He does a lazy sweep of the room before he leans forward, extending his body across the bar and grabs the first bottle available. It wasn’t his usual top shelf whiskey, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I steal glances as I finish writing the specials on the board.
Eamon tips the bottle back, not bothering with a glass. His gaze bounces around the room, looking at nothing and no one in particular. There were no two ways about it; he was blitzed and at the rate he was going, he would need a lift home, a cold shower, and a good night’s rest.
I try to mind my own business as my boss drains the cheap spirits, but he wasn’t just my boss anymore. Over the past few weeks, I’ve come to know him on a deeper level.
Brittany appears beside me, “should we text Connor to get back here?”
I shake my head, not wanting to undermine Eamon.
“Cindel!” Eamon beckons me over to him, pulling out the stool to his side when I arrive. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Leaning back slightly to face me. He can’t seem to focus on any one place for long.
“Yes. I did. Thank you for taking me out.” I smooth my skirt down, unsure how to phrase the next words.
The glass container is nearly empty at this point; he totters the bottle from side to side on its base. “Did you know… I knew your brother, Theo.”
What? He never mentioned anything before. We’ve been on two dates; I’ve brought Theo up a number of times and now is when he tells me this?
“What…?” I finally voice. “How did you know him?”
His eyes are glassy. Truely, it was a wonder Eamon can even sit up straight.
“Remember at the diner, I told you about not even having a choice in my major? Well… I went to Boston College.”
I finally take the seat next to him, feeling like my knees may buckle over this news.
“You… met my brother at college?”
He nods. “Didn’t like him at first. Thought he was too cocky for his own good. One of those ‘do-gooders’ who wanted to chase a story until the truth was printed in black and white, for the world to see.”
That was Theo. It sounds like he actually knew him. My brother graduated from Boston College with a major in Communications. He was working toward a career in investigative journalism. My eyes sting when I contemplate where he’d be today.
“I graduated the same year as him, but in business. It was the course my parents chose for me. Theo and I connected after graduation. Our paths crossed and we found common ground. We—” He takes the last swig from the bottle in his hand. “We became close… right before he died.”
Why didn’t I know any of this? My heart fractures over the fact that there are parts of Theo’s life that I will just never know.
Instead of asking something, I just sit there.
Staring dumbfounded at Eamon, like he’s just handed me an unconventionally shaped jigsaw piece, for which I have no idea what the final image is supposed to be. What am I supposed to do with this?
Eamon sways slightly as if he’s been set adrift on a boat.
All at once his flush face focuses on me, and he smiles widely.
He’s absolutely plastered. If I don’t ask something soon, he might just blackout right here.
My mind was teeming with questions. Shit.
What do I ask? Did my brother seem happy?
Do YOU believe my brother died from a drug-overdose? Do you know something I don’t know?
Eamon’s blinks are becoming longer, so I blurt out.
“Why didn’t you tell me you know my brother from the beginning?!”
Slowly he blinks, his eyes soften, and he puts an elbow on the bar to hold his head up in his hand. “You have the same eyes.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
Without warning, Connor appears next to us and tosses a five-pound bag of candy on the counter.
“Come on, big guy, let’s get you home.” He wraps an arm around Eamon’s middle, whisking him off the stool and toward the exit.
I watch as he stumbles out the door with help, turning back at me with a wistful look.
I was on autopilot. Like when you don’t remember the walk from your apartment to your job, and now you're questioning if the last three cross walks had a person or a hand displayed, when you stepped off the curb. The entire shift was like that. I couldn’t tell you what drinks I made, who I spoke to, or what my biggest tip was that night.
All I could focus on was how Eamon knew Theo.
How am I just learning this? This charming, handsome, mysterious, yet confusing man has so many surprising layers to him, I’m unsure if I’ll ever reach his core.
Will I like what I find? Does Eamon knowing Theo connect us somehow?
Did my brother’s death affect both of us?
Eamon was not himself this evening, although only officially meeting him less than a month ago, doesn’t exactly build confidence in me knowing him all that well.
Does he usually get smashed on a weekday or was something bothering him?
The date went well last night. Maybe it’s his family or perhaps business troubles at the boxing club?
Whatever the case, I am eager to learn more about Eamon and his past.
Theo and I would talk weekly on the phone when he moved out.
Although, he’s always been vague about his life in general.
Aside from the one time he got suspended from school, he never had any serious issues.
Rarely did he invite friends over and come to think of it…
I don’t remember him going on a single date when he was a teenager.
One time in high school, my folks dropped me off at the movies to meet a boy.
For a month, my brother teased me about my date looking like the character, Steve from Blue’s Clues!
If I was more private with my life… I could be settled down by now, happily wed to the guy in the green strips with a blue dog.
Perhaps my brother was wise to keep some stuff to himself.