I should have...
December 15th 2010 07:16
How often have I looked at past events in my life, and simply thought, "I should have done, 'this'"? Too often. But on one particular night, it changed two people's lives forever.
His friends first introduced him to me as Ryan, then Bruce, so I assumed his name to be either Bruce Ryan, or Ryan Bruce. But, I digress. The years went by, every night, with Ryan coming into the bar to have a drink. Then, it became two drinks. Eventually, the drinks kept multiplying to more and more, but he always came back.
I often wondered why he drank more during the Holidays. Contrary to popular opinion, most folks drink less because of all the parties that happen, or they want to appear perfect for the visiting in-laws. One night, he broke down on my counter, crying like a drunken baby, telling me all of his troubles.
Five years ago, he said, his dad died. Five years. The last words that he said to his dad? They weren't happy words, because if they were, he wouldn't have said, "I should have..." and fell harder into his drink. Jack and Coke, this time with less Coke than Jack.
I shook my head. "Folks shouldn't dwell on what they should have done," my years of training taught me. "Folks should look forward, to see what they have coming in their lives." He looked up at me, saluted with his glass, took a final swig, and left. I thought he learned his lesson. Sure enough, he was back the next night, with dreams about the future.
"I always wanted to do fun stuff with makeup. Not sissy stuff, but special effects. That's what I went to school for. I should have..."
"No," I interjected. "You should pursue your dream. Don't look back, Bruce," I said, wiping up the bar. It was New Years Eve, the joy and merriment lost to him in his own world of loss and despair. He smiled. It was the first time I saw him smile. He also tipped me better than usual that night, tipped his hat, and went home.
Three months later, he was back on his "I should have" band wagon. "There was a girl," he muttered. I knew all about this vixen, with her fire red hair, sweet disposition, and completely unobtrusive ways. He talked about her often. Only good points, mind you, so to me she was a complete saint. "She said yes. I should have ... " he shook his head, and smiled. I told him for months to ask her out. "Well, she's getting married to a close friend of hers." He drank more than usual, and by this time, it might as well have been straight up Jack's, with a drop of coke in them.
"There are other girls out there," I yelled at him. "I'm sure that there are ten ready to go out with you. You just gotta ask them."
"Not like this one," he said, his fourth drink guzzled down quickly. "I'm off to home, to sleep this one off. See you tomorrow, Dan." I shook my head. I should have...
Later that evening, I finished cleaning the bar, wiping it down as I did every night. I noticed the strobed lights out back, but didn't think much about them. Nor did I think much about the white sheet covering a poor soul in the street. I didn't really think about it, until the next morning, when I got up, and the late edition on the third page detailed a drunk driver, exiting my bar, and ran into a pregnant woman. The man was identified as Bruce. Lump in my throat, I knew I should have...
His friends first introduced him to me as Ryan, then Bruce, so I assumed his name to be either Bruce Ryan, or Ryan Bruce. But, I digress. The years went by, every night, with Ryan coming into the bar to have a drink. Then, it became two drinks. Eventually, the drinks kept multiplying to more and more, but he always came back.
I often wondered why he drank more during the Holidays. Contrary to popular opinion, most folks drink less because of all the parties that happen, or they want to appear perfect for the visiting in-laws. One night, he broke down on my counter, crying like a drunken baby, telling me all of his troubles.
Five years ago, he said, his dad died. Five years. The last words that he said to his dad? They weren't happy words, because if they were, he wouldn't have said, "I should have..." and fell harder into his drink. Jack and Coke, this time with less Coke than Jack.
I shook my head. "Folks shouldn't dwell on what they should have done," my years of training taught me. "Folks should look forward, to see what they have coming in their lives." He looked up at me, saluted with his glass, took a final swig, and left. I thought he learned his lesson. Sure enough, he was back the next night, with dreams about the future.
"I always wanted to do fun stuff with makeup. Not sissy stuff, but special effects. That's what I went to school for. I should have..."
"No," I interjected. "You should pursue your dream. Don't look back, Bruce," I said, wiping up the bar. It was New Years Eve, the joy and merriment lost to him in his own world of loss and despair. He smiled. It was the first time I saw him smile. He also tipped me better than usual that night, tipped his hat, and went home.
Three months later, he was back on his "I should have" band wagon. "There was a girl," he muttered. I knew all about this vixen, with her fire red hair, sweet disposition, and completely unobtrusive ways. He talked about her often. Only good points, mind you, so to me she was a complete saint. "She said yes. I should have ... " he shook his head, and smiled. I told him for months to ask her out. "Well, she's getting married to a close friend of hers." He drank more than usual, and by this time, it might as well have been straight up Jack's, with a drop of coke in them.
"There are other girls out there," I yelled at him. "I'm sure that there are ten ready to go out with you. You just gotta ask them."
"Not like this one," he said, his fourth drink guzzled down quickly. "I'm off to home, to sleep this one off. See you tomorrow, Dan." I shook my head. I should have...
Later that evening, I finished cleaning the bar, wiping it down as I did every night. I noticed the strobed lights out back, but didn't think much about them. Nor did I think much about the white sheet covering a poor soul in the street. I didn't really think about it, until the next morning, when I got up, and the late edition on the third page detailed a drunk driver, exiting my bar, and ran into a pregnant woman. The man was identified as Bruce. Lump in my throat, I knew I should have...
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