ODAAT: Volume 2, Chapter 2

 

Route

We've both accepted that we are going to have to adjust to a new life. A life where no one is taking care of us. She got herself a job working alongside Charlie at a local publishing company. This has her thinking about writing a book. She wants it to be a story about her life. About the tours she's been on. About the people she's met. About me and Charlie, and finally setting up a home in Illinois. I encourage her out loud, but in my head, I'm rolling my eyes. All that says to me is she's going to put together an account of all the stories she's told other people, slap the word biography on it and put it on the shelves. Charlie is encouraging her every step of the way. Good for them. We've been here a month, but she's already settled in like it's been a lifetime.

Me? I decided the waitress route was the best one. But it didn't last long. I wasn't cut out for taking orders and smiling like I care. I didn't get fired or anything. I simply said it wasn't working out and moved on to bigger and better things. I found a bar, catering mostly to the underground punk scene that Illinois is so famous for. I get a lot of kids thinking they can pass off a fake I.D. card some friend made for them with a printer in their basement. But as a kid who used to use a fake I.D. card, I can spot one a mile away. Reggie, the boss, says it's a talent. Maybe it is. It saves him from getting sued, so I know he'll keep me around. We also go way back, since he used to live in New York. He was a friend of a friend, so we never really got close. But, I like him. He's not hands-on like the employer in my Vancouver reality. He's a little, expressive. Some employees complain about how he doesn't know personal space boundaries. I don't mind though. I know so much worse is out there. I'll take a guy who thinks hugging his patrons is better than a handshake. Besides, it's mostly just the regulars. There aren't many new-comers to this particular place. I think Reggie likes it better that way.

Sometimes, the bar gets a band or two. There's a venue up the street, but it doesn't have a bar. So, after the set, the bands will come over here and grab a drink. The bar gets crazy on those nights and it seems to stress Reggie out. I keep them under wraps, having enough experience with musicians. Reggie thinks that's a talent too. I like serving the bands because it reminds me of the early days with Hunter. Oh, but these days, what doesn't?

Crystal will come in after work most days. She works until about 5, then her and Charlie head out for dinner or go home and cook themselves something. By 8, she's at the bar and by 10, she's home and in bed. Unless she has the following day off, because then she'll stay here until I close the bar down. We'll take a taxi home and I'll pass out on the couch. Somehow, it's more inviting than the king-sized bed that no one is sleeping in. Crystal loves when the bands come in too. They exchange tour stories and hers get more crazy than the musicians. She's having a good time here. For that, I'm glad. She's definitely made this place feel like home, even though we've only been here a few weeks. I think that's nice. It's been so long since she felt like there was somewhere she could be herself. But she has. Since Charlie, she's started being honest too. She doesn't make up stories anymore. She doesn't try to get attention. Although, her mere presence is enough to get the attention of other people. But she doesn't seek it out anymore. She doesn't need it. She's loved. She's happy. She doesn't need to find answers in strangers who tell her she's pretty. She doesn't need to try anymore.

She continues to be a beacon of light in the darkness of my gloomy world. I should write a book. It would be all about Crystal. Not her stories or her life, but how she carries herself. I'd talk about how she hasn't let the past define her, because she's always changing the past anyway. I'm grateful, at least, that she doesn't have to change the present. I'm not so self-involved that I can't see how much she's thriving. I want Frankie to get to see this side of her. But he's been too busy, he says. I'd be suspicious if he hadn't waited all this time to get a yes from me. I know that he'll be happy to see how well Crystal's doing when he comes to visit. I hope that he'll feel the same way about me. But I'm not there yet. I can admit that. I'm trying to get there, but there's still something missing. Unlike Crystal, I haven't been able to make this place feel like home. I think Charlie has a lot to do with her state of mind. He officially moved in about a week ago. They've been talking about starting their own business together, but Crystal is a little skeptical because of what happened with David. She doesn't want to lose everything again, or be put in an awkward situation. But, she has nothing to worry about. Assuming Charlie hasn't changed too much since I knew him, he's in this for the long haul. He always was a hopeless romantic. When he fell in love, it was the deepest he could fall. When he loves, he puts everything into that love. I can tell he loves her by the way he looks at her. I know that she loves him, too. They bring out the best in each other. Which is really all you need to make it work. Nothing is ever perfect, after all. But if you can find just one reason to keep pushing it forward, you push it forward.

I look over as the door of the bar opens. There's a commotion as he walks in. A chorus of cheering. I smile, looking down to the counter as he approaches the bar. He looks different now. He looks confident. He's walking with his shoulders straight back and a smile on his face. He's got on black jeans with tears in the knees that must be letting in the cold air. He's got on black leather Dock Martin boots, perfect for crunching down the snow. He's wearing a black leather jacket hanging open to reveal the tight Misfits t-shirt he's wearing underneath. His shoulder length hair is now layered with slight highlights. He's wearing black, thick-rimmed glasses over those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“I'm sorry it took so long. The traffic was brutal.” He greets, dropping his hands on the counter. I place mine over his.

“It's better late than never Jared.” I assure, still smiling. He smiles, looking down at the counter.

“You remembered.” He observes. I shrug, trying not to look as excited as I am to have him here. I'm sure I'm smiling like an idiot, likely turning a shade of red that would make most tomatoes jealous. But I can't help it. He has that effect on me. He always did.

“Of course I remembered.” I assure, thinking back to that morning. We were laying in the grass at a park in some city we were just passing through. Everyone wanted to stretch their legs and we went for a walk. He told me that he didn't go by his real name. He never identified with his own name. He just wanted a presence, a stage name. I never questioned it.

We're all running from something. A name, a boyfriend, a family. But the longer we run, the more we realize that we are, in fact, only running from our own shadows. Crystal was running from her boring childhood. I was running from the life I left behind. He was running from his name. But we've all stopped running, too out of breath to keep up the charade. Crystal and I haven't turned to face our past yet, but, we've stopped in case it wants to catch up.

We make eye contact and he turns a light shade of red. It's noticeable on his pale cheeks, even if the lighting in the bar is dim. I lean forward and softly press my lips to his cheek. He's let a light stubble grow over his usually clean-shaved face. But I don't mind.

“I've missed you.” He whispers as I move back. I can feel the words, their weight. I nod, breathing in his air.

“I've missed you too.” I admit. We're both quiet, but it's comfortable, after all that has happened.

“I like the stubble.” I announce, running the back of my hand over his cheek. He smiles, looking back down at the bar.

“Yeah?” He questions, sounding excited about such a simple compliment. I nod, still feeling the smile on my face.

“It suits you, I think. Or, the new you. I mean, you're quite the fox.” I laugh. He joins me, lightly shaking his head. He looks up and our eyes meet again. I'm pretty sure I'm still blushing, but he is too.

“See what I did?” I ask. He nods, lightly pushing my shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah I did. Loser.” He teases, finally sitting down at the bar stool. I pour him a drink and slide it across the bar. He smiles widely, revealing those perfect teeth of his. Then he puts the glass to his full lips and tips it back. I let myself think a few impure thoughts as I watch him. He starts laughing and shakes his head again. He puts the glass down on the counter and reaches for my hand.

“Thank you for giving me this chance.”