Woohoo! I posted two stories. This is actually roughly based on a night out but I really wanted to try to have an entire story based in dialogue because I later plan on working on a script... maybe.
I’ve noticed, through my many years, that the most colorful people come out at night. I’m not saying that everyone out in the city past one a.m. is a drug abuser, but rather that these people have stories to tell, and each one is worth a listen.
For example, last week, that cold night on Wednesday, a young man came into Frank’s Tavern. I had recently finished putting in a few extra hours at the Chrysler plant in hopes of collecting a sufficient amount of money before Christmas next week. A young man up late isn’t much of a sight, but this young man was wearing a suit- a suit that was ruffled. His tie was loosened, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, and his dark brown hair was an unsightly mess.
Maybe he found some wisdom in my grey beard or was looking for someone with eyes looking as tired as his. No matter, I was glad he joined me for a drink. “Excuse me, sir, if I may have a Jack n’ Coke, please,” he ordered with a young, optimistic tone. His dialect was very proper. The bartender quietly nodded and began to pour. The young man was disheveled at best and his eyes, though blue, glowed with a deep redness. He gave a deep breath or a sigh, scratched the back of his head, and then chuckled when handed his drink. He gave a nod of gratitude to the bartender, picked up his drink, took a hearty swallow, and finally turned his head to observe the musky bar. What else could I do but greet my new neighbor?
I shifted my body towards him, leaned in and asked, “Say, what’s with the suit?” I’ve been in some dramatic arguments brought on by my infamous frankness, but this young man gave the right reaction. Showing his teeth along the rim of the glass, the young man smiled and laughed. He shook his head and sipped some more of his drink. I whispered to him, “C’mon let an old fogy keep what is left of his youth by letting him hear a tale or two from the generation running this lost country. Hell, now that I think about it, you owe me the reason for the suit for fucking up my home.”
“Sorry, sir, but it requires a lengthy story on which I would rather not dwell, and I doubt you have the time,” he argued.
“I’m sad to admit that I do have the time. I’ll most likely stay until closing time. Besides I won’t recognize anyone in the story, and don’t we always feel better when we say what’s on our mind?” I refuted.
“You’re persistent. Fine, but before I begin may I have the name of my audience?”
“The name is Green, Joseph Green, but Joe will be fine.”
“Well Joe, my name is Eric Smith. Eric is perfect also. The suit was for a party – an office party. However, why I am wearing it in here is a reason for a story. If only I could decide where to begin.”
“I would say at the beginning.”
A short chuckle erupted from his vocal chords and while still recovering he began to tell:
Well now, as many stories before mine started, my story involves a woman - a beautiful young woman by the name of Holly. She is beautiful enough to knock any man back off his feet with just the right stare from her eyes. A pure penetration of perfection – that’s the only way to describe her and her gorgeous hair lightly lying on her shoulders molded with flawless skin. I’m hypnotized most by her face, particularly her eyes. Have you ever stared at the ocean for hours? That same enchantment entrances me every day. Her eyes are a deep blue just like that ocean. I’m never able to look away.
You must know how these things go. My caring for her made me listen to all of her problems in her relationship which I didn’t much mind, but I knew the outcome. We became friends.
Eric took a big drink of his Jack n’ Coke and asked for another glass of the same. I couldn’t tell if what he was blathering on about was exposition or tired drunk rambling in which he missed the question. Still, I continued to listen as he continued to speak:
Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather be friends than nothing at all, but as we continued to spend time with each other the more I seemed to crave her. I controlled my addiction the best I could until recently when she came to her senses. She dumped what’s-his-face. I don’t know what finally persuaded her, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The only issue was to decide how I would confess my true feelings for Holly. To be honest, I’m not a brave person. My fear will tell me every possible situation that could arise from a heartfelt confession.
The irony is delicious! Destiny decides to pull a practical joke on Eric when Holly invites me to a holiday party. Which as you can guess was today. First, allow me to discuss the series of events leading to the party. She gave me the invitation first thing at the office last week. The party was to be at her place with pseudo-formal wear. The idea was a cocktail party for the less than rich folks. She told me how she envisioned people in nice clothes sipping wine and easy mixes while discussing politics and philosophy- something we found enjoyable to discuss. This was not an office party though as previously stated; in fact, I would be the only co-worker to attend. I felt… special; it was nice. Hmm, I think that’s what we strive for in love. We strive to feel special – that certain acceptance that only that woman, or man, can give us. Maybe that’s what I hoped for all week. I had my haircut two days prior to the party so I didn’t have that fresh haircut look and bought a beard trimmer so I could still look a little rugged, as you can see. I don’t know why, but when I freshen up and look nice I also feel nice. That feeling wouldn’t last.
At the party-
“Excuse me. Before we have part two of this story I have to use the restroom. So far I feel for you though,” I explained as I made my way into the back. As I was urinating I began to ponder over Eric’s story. How would I have acted differently if I were in his shoes? Did I ever have trouble confessing my feelings? After a moment I realized that yes I did, but why?
The key is vulnerability. I believe all men desire to be bulletproof, but not for himself, but for all others. Leaders do not have weaknesses. So, when a man confessed to be emotionally overpowered by a woman he becomes vulnerable.
This idea cannot be true in all cases. Some sly men have found a way to sap a woman of her dominance, but a philosophical man cannot have this ability. The over analytical quality of that man overpowers such a weakness as to falsely attempt to remain invulnerable- hypothetically. I would never know; a wise and poetically deep thought crosses my mind once in a blue moon.
I stopped staring at the ceiling and urinating. I washed my hands before rejoining my partner. The break let me accumulate my thoughts on Eric’s story and on Eric as a whole. I’ve seen him before… somewhere.
“Where did I leave off” he said.
“You were about to describe the party,” I answered.
“Oh,” he exclaimed:
The party had a wonderful environment. Every decoration was classy and elegant. She decorated her house with special lighting shades and bought a new centerpiece statue of bronze swans to place on the table. The table had finger foods and tiny pastries upon which to snack. All of those elements were minute compared to what held the spotlight.
Holly looked amazing. She was an angel in a black dress. The only question was how did she lose her wings?
I was taken back and breathless. Her eyes radiated with the blue glow of an uncut sapphire in the sun, especially when contrasted against her black, satin dress. I wondered how much time it took for her to coordinate her appearance, because she was flawless – the perfect balance between beauty and sexiness.
I somehow conjured the nerve to speak when she greeted me at the door. “Wow, you look lovely tonight,” I said. She laid her fingers on her heart with gratitude.
She replied, “Aw, thank you. You look handsome yourself sir.” I both liked and disliked the use of the title.
No matter, “Thanks,” I said and smiled thinly; I may have been blushing. Nervousness had sunk deep into my chest, from ribcage to ribcage, all through my heart. Until that point in time I had never been inside Holly’s house. We had always met somewhere or when I picked her up she was waiting. She had intriguing décor, for example, in one room she had eastern influenced lamp shades that left shapes and symbols of light dancing on the wall. Every inch of furniture in her house was polished and vibrantly shining. Obviously, she went through a lot of trouble to add ambiance to her abode. I had stood still for a moment simply to allow my eyes to take in all the details.
Holly approached me from behind. I was startled. “My family gave me those lampshades from
The room felt stuffy so I decided to walk out to the back deck for some fresh air. The sky was nice and clear at the time; all the stars were twinkling and the moon was simply illuminated. The air was pure and clean. I could taste the crisp flavor to my exhalation. Finally, I was able to relax until Holly found me.
“Wow, the weather is a lot nicer than the weatherman predicted! I may ask if people want to come out here. I have some patio furniture. Do you want to help me set up? More people should be arriving soon,” she said. I couldn’t refuse, but before I even realized the fact I had done the action. I was sitting outside sipping some nice wine. The cold made it taste better. Holly went inside to mingle.
I got company soon enough when a man stepped outside into my vision in order to light a cigarette. He had a nice grey shirt and a head with slicked-back black hair. “Nice night,” he tells me. I nodded and mumbled an uncaring agreement. I wasn’t feeling much for talking. Yet he persisted. He persisted and endured my callous responses. He asked, “How do you know Holly?” From work. “The Sagittarius? You write editorials too?” Yes. Yes. “How do you like it there?” Just fine.
By this point in the conversation I believe he was beginning to read my thoughts, but his cigarette was barely burning into ashes, and he continued to pick at my brain- but now more intensely. “Holly really is a lovely woman, isn’t she?” he asked. I nodded once again. “So, Eric, is it?” I stood more erect at the sound of his deduction. He ceased to talk through the side of his mouth and held the cigarette between two fingers in his right hand. With a clear voice he spoke again, “Holly’s mentioned you before. You’re her cute friend at the editorial staff. She said you were affable and she could discuss anything with you…” That last sentence was saturated with the tonality of disappointment.
So, I caved. I more openly replied to him, “I usually am, and I can be right now. Why did you come out here?”
He held up his cigarette as an answer before placing it back between his lips and returned to the offensive. “My question to you though, Eric, is why you’ve been avoiding everyone?” Then he took a few more puffs before discarding his cigarette on the ground as I sat back down ignoring an answer. In the silence, the nameless man proceeded back inside, leaving me back in my lonesome serenity.
I sipped my wine peering into the skyline that was glistening with the lights of the stars and the city. I emptied my glass enjoyably, but I left the bottle inside Holly’s house. I was turning to go back inside when I bumped into a rather handsome man about my age. He had nicely styled his blonde hair and owned penetrating azure eyes, and his dress was a fantastically styled Hugo Boss suit.
I stopped Eric, who was diving into a sarcastic tone to ask, “Did you not know this guy?” and, “What was his name?”
He took a breath and continued:
No, Joe, I never quite got his name, but I spent the rest of the night with him and his cronies – after I got some more to drink. All similar looking guys came out with attractive young ladies dangling from their arms and shoulders.
Once everyone sat down I felt like a cardinal in an eagle’s nest. My ears opened to the talk of all these people taking trips to France, English, and Spain or buying new Mercedes, Volkswagens, and even a Lamborghini; oh, and someone even bought a new airplane to fly at his leisure. On top of feeling inferior financially I had to listen to full conversations in Spanish and French- at the mention of these vacations. I didn’t feel much better when Holly sat down. She and another girl were chuckling in between sentences in the French dialect. So-
I had to stop Eric there. I put my glass down hard on the table. My voice was forceful and stern. I spoke to him staring straight into his eyes, “You mean to tell me that all of your self-pity is a result of felling like less of man at a party full of yuppies that play around with Daddy’s inheritance and feed off of old money? Son, let me tell you something! A true man isn’t defined by his money or intelligence; he’s defined by his heart and his actions.” I leaned back, relaxed, and took a deep breath I continued, hoping to bestow some sage wisdom. “Eric, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders and a big heart in your chest. Now, we as people always strive for acceptance, but a man can’t live or die for it. I didn’t find an everlasting source until I made one, with a family. Still someday my daughter will grow up and distance herself from me. By then, I’ll learn to work harder at it; I can’t replace my daughter. People will always be people- love ‘em or hate ‘em. If you want their acceptance, sometimes you just have to worker harder, if it’s really worth it.”
There was a silence all throughout the bar. I don’t believe everyone in the vicinity heard my long winded speech to Eric, but fate made sure Eric understood every word. I was greatly surprised when his humble words reached my ear. “Feeling left out was only one issue,” he began. “I understand and appreciate what you told me, but the party was only halfway down the mountain of disappointment. I’ve noticed that adding more people breeds and brings more problems.”
Eric sat more comfortable as he began to finish his story: So, here’s everyone in this circle sitting down with full glasses of martinis and wines. I must have looked nervous or tense because Holly sat next to me and whispered softly into my ear, ‘Are you having a good time at all?’ My expression was forcibly transformed to appear shocked by her comment as I nodded to reassure my enjoyment. I was not comfortable with the idea of being the one who spoils all of the fun. After Holly turned her head to face the crowd she turned back to whisper, ‘Good, I really hope you can enjoy yourself. I was worried you may not.’ I felt like a jackass! She began to engage in conversation with other guests as I attempted to sink into my chair as much as physically possible.
For several minutes I stayed in that position as if I were part of the chair. Once a moment or two passed, one of the young men began to hush the crowd. He made a grin on his face wider than the
I don’t know if ‘surprised’ is the proper adjective to describe my emotion at that moment. Would the sound be too parental if I claimed to be disappointed? In that moment I began to see the true appearance or form of everyone at the party as if they had removed or peeled away a layer of skin and underneath was some unfinished product hollowed out and the only means of feeling complete was to brag about the possessions they had or trips they’d taken or use drugs that balanced out everything.
I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t, but I watched Holly look at the drug dealer. I wanted her to laugh at him or command him to leave. I would’ve been satisfied if she were to have simply walked away. Alas, my disappointment remained. A certain twinkle, or possible lack thereof, may have hinted that I wasn’t proud of her forthcoming choice.
For some time all the sounds of the supposed cocktail party halted; I can now only remember flashes of the cut powder, the white lines, but mostly Holly’s face when she became tainted. All the details of her enlarged nostrils; closed, shaded eyes, and the true boniness of her flesh engulfed my memory and overthrew all other thoughts. Her beauty still existed but was overshadowed by a layer of dirt and grime.
I spent a few minutes sitting and watching as I had been doing most of the night, but I began to feel anxious- possibly I was full of panic. Therefore, without any notice, I stood up, grabbed my belongings, and left the party.
In my car I collected my thoughts. Did I truly know Holly? Yes, in some version or manner. Did I belong at the party? Yes, I wanted to be there at least for her. So, was the night worth all of the trouble? Yes, it truly was worth every moment. The last question is, then, why do I feel so sick to my soul?
Reflecting on the story as a whole, I now know the answer. Let me compare mine to yours, Joe.
I rubbed my graying chin hairs to bide some time as I collected my thoughts. Being unbiased and experience I knew what to say, “Sorry, life’s disappointing sometimes. As kids we’re raised to believe that this place is magical, and to some people growing up is accepting that magic isn’t real. Likewise, you must accept that times events happen that we think are magic and really our minds set up the smoke and mirrors. Sometimes the same is true for people.” I watched as Eric nodded as he does to agree with what someone is telling him. I hate to be the bearer of bad news.
Eric rested his head in his arms on the bar. His expression wasn’t sad but numb. I believe all along he knew the truth but was hoping someone would tell him otherwise, perhaps give him a different perspective. I feel sometimes we ask another person’s opinion only to want a lie for a truth we already know.
A few muffled words resonated from Eric’s arms before I shoved the boy gently to ask him to act properly. He repeated with his head raised, “I suppose the feeling is difficult to withstand when you’re heroes fall. I suppose you’re right though; now, if I want someone to act maturely then I must do the same. Here, here, cheers to you Joe and your patience, time, and ears!” He raised his last glass of the night to me. We connected our drinks to loud clank before indulging in a gulp.
Now, Eric’s night was not over. He said his goodbye and straightened his suit, but making his way to the door his eyes fell onto a beautiful young lady shivering in a black dress. The atmosphere of the bar was offset by this overdressed, disheveled couple. He’d spoken the name Holly aloud before she took the reins of the conversation.
I could hear her begin to explain, “After the party died down a friend of mine offered to grab some late coffee before we did some clean-up, then I had realized you had left and never told me goodbye. Who would’ve thought I would’ve found your car in the middle of my ride?” She laughed to hide her offense at his premature departure or her curiosity or both. Her eyes showed her true expression. She was hurt. She was hurt by Eric walking out, but not on the party, but on her. She leaned forward and closer into him balancing on her toes to look him straight in the eyes. “What made you leave?” she asked frankly.
Eric was trapped. Stress constricted his body and everything about him seemed wound up and tight. After a deep breath, he took Holly’s hand and led her to a booth next to the door. They sat down but Eric never let go of her hand.
“Holly, do you remember how you felt when you were a little kid and you found out Santa Claus wasn’t real?” Eric asked finally moving his eyes to hers.
“Yeah, I was disappointed, but what does that have to do with anything?” she returned.
“Well, what I mean to say is... I like you. I have for some time, but as much as I do I also don’t know if I just liked the fantasy of you. At the party I saw a side of you I never knew, and it wasn’t something that was right for me. I still -seeing you before me as gorgeous as you are and were just a few hours ago – I still do like you. A bad night at a party isn’t going to ruin that,” Eric laughed while looking at his hands cup around Holly’s. He had a sincere smile that wasn’t shown all night. Women can so easily make a man sway his emotions to her desire. I’m glad she wanted him happy.
Holly entwined her hands into Eric’s. Her cheeks turned a rosy pink from the blushing and her teeth were a bright pearl when she smiled, feeling flattered. “Eric, you are one amazing man, you know that? Even when I let you down, you tell me that you care for me regardless. You even suffered a party to just make me feel special. I think you’d be happy to know that I don’t do that often, and the one’s who encourage that behavior, aren’t my truest friends. I am sorry though; what can I say except, ‘It was a party.’
“However, I do like you, but I can’t offer what you are looking for right now. We still have so much going on and so much to do. I just want to keep what we have and never jeopardize it again.”
“Well I love you and that’s all that matters and ever should,” Eric closed. They arose from the booth saying all the words left unspoken Holly embraced him so tightly that some would say she never truly wanted to let go of him. She placed a gentle and soft kiss on his cheek before walking out the door. Eric stood still for a moment after Holly left smiling to himself, possibly amazed at how much he said with so little words. He sat down beside me again with a new grin on his face.
“Boy, she was right to call you amazing,” I said as he sat in his same stool as earlier.
“Joe,” he said. “I’ll never claim to be amazing. I claim to be honest and happy. This is true only because I stopped running. She just found me… I love it when a woman makes the first move.”
At that moment our bartenders traded out for the moment. Our new one was a young woman who covers the late shift of factory workers in town. She had dark hair, milky skin, and emerald eyes. She greeted Eric and me with a smile before asking us if we wanted another round. Eric and I decided against the idea.
“Well, Eric, at least you still have a hell of a story,” I said as I rose from my stool.
“What kind of story is that?” the lady bartender chimed-in with a curious voice.
I began to head for the door as Eric’s and the new lady’s eyes met. I stood in the doorway walking out to hear a few more sentences.
“Oh, nothing much, I would much rather hear about your day miss…” Eric trailed off attempting to gather information.
“Well, look at you, charming enough to match the suit, and handsome enough to match it too. My name is Deb and it’s a pleasure to meet you Eric,” she said sharing with Eric a much deserved smile.
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