Chapter Two #4
Martin appears through the door, searches the bar and finds us, heading our way.
The waitress arrives simultaneously with our drinks, all beers of various kinds, and shades.
Jeannie has the lightest, and Martin has the darkest. “What are we debating?” Martin says, somehow knowing there is a dispute brewing.
“Beer or bread,” I say.
Jeannie gestures at me to stop, addressing Martin: “Which is better, Village Bakery sourdough or Barbell’s orange wheat?”
Sliding into his seat, Martin grabs his beer, levers it toward his mouth and says, “Sourdough,” and takes a sip without missing a beat.
We suddenly know each person’s position on the matter as Jeannie relaxes in her seat, and Brad straightens, raising his arms at Martin.
I take a sip of my beer, watching what will come next.
“How can you say that? Barbell’s orange wheat is the best local brew around. Made with actual orange blossoms!”
“I like sourdough.” Martin says.
“Toasted. With butter.” I add.
“For breakfast.” Martin adds, and suddenly I’m laughing.
Brad is dejected, “Whatever,” he breathes. Martin starts laughing with me, and catches my eye.
“My grandma used to make beer-bread.” I contribute. “I think she just used beer instead of yeast as a rising agent.”
“What’s it like?” Jeannie’s chuckling.
“I actually don’t remember it being any different. I just remember that’s what it was called. She also made cola cake. That was really good.” I’m just throwing words around, but I have Martin laughing. Brad doesn’t seem to be hearing anything we are saying.
Martin throws his glass in the air and makes a toast, “To bread and beer!”
“And cake,” Jeannie throws in.
We clank our glasses and sip together.
It’s great to laugh and hear everyone’s stories, especially Jeannie’s hilarious stories about the things happening at her work. It feels good to laugh so much for so long, and before I know it, Brad and Jeannie are paying their tab and heading out, leaving Martin and me alone at our high-top table.
I’m glad to have the table to ourselves. “I’ve been given another task by my secret person,” I say.
“So the app worked?”
I nod and smile, “I’m still alive!”
“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” he says, taking a sip. “Have you figured out who this secret person might be?”
Characteristically, I’m the kind of person that can’t let something like this go but for some reason this time it’s not a sticking point for me. I can’t explain it, so I don’t. “I don’t have any idea.”
“Maybe someone from work?”
I think through the faces I see at work again. Still nothing jumps out at me. “I don’t think so. The only real clue I have is that they call me by my full first name. Nobody I know actually uses my real name, so there might be something there.”
“Why do you go by Liam?”
“Not sure.” I smile, thinking. “It started in college. In high school, I was William. Maybe it’s just the constant feeling that William always needs to be shortened to Will or Willy or something. I can’t stand either of those. Liam just works.”
“So who would know your real first name? Any ideas?”
“In town, nobody,” I say, picking up my glass. “There’s you. Not many others.”
“What about the gym? Would anyone at the gym know your name, or maybe when you scan in your name appears on a screen or something.”
I think about this for a minute. Could be possible.
“Anyone who’s ever talked to me knows my name is Liam.
You think that my secret person could be someone who has never actually talked to me?
Someone who’s never met me? That seems creepy to me.
I think that using my name is just a trick to throw me off. ”
Martin’s eyes show me he’s thinking this through. “What is your next task?”
“Karaoke.”
I don’t even hesitate or breathe. To the casual observer, it might even seem like a perfectly natural thing for me to be saying.
He stares at me. “Singing?”
“I am going to sing karaoke. At the Palm Frond. Thursday night.” My heart begins to beat faster with each detail, but I don’t look away.
Martin smiles at me, his broad, thinking smile. “You seem pretty okay with this.”
“I’m not,” I confess. “But I’m doing it anyway. Will you come with me?” I stop blinking until I know he sees that I’m serious. I feel my pulse in my throat.
He laughs. “Sure. I’ll come with you.”
I can’t stop smiling, but I also can’t make eye contact with Martin anymore. I’m fixated on the cardboard coaster under my glass. It’s suddenly very fascinating.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” Martin says so softly, I can barely hear him over the sound of the music playing in the room.
I look up at him, spinning the coaster mindlessly. He isn’t blinking. “I know.” I find myself speaking softly, like if I use any volume, my voice won’t work. “But someone thinks I can.”
Martin’s left eye twitches. I think his eyes become a little glassy, but I’m having trouble reading his reactions tonight. He doesn’t respond, he just blinks twice, and then suddenly his coaster needs spinning under his glass, too.
We seem to avoid eye contact for several spins, and then in one big, surprising motion, he grabs his glass, raises it toward me and says, “To trying something new!”
“To trying.” I raise my glass, but I’m not sure if they even clang together because I’m lost in the expression in his eyes.