Bob Marley’s “Talkin’ Blues” was playing on the jukebox when I entered Manny’s bar on Conti. Over the years, usually when I got to Conti, it was after a night alone in a hotel room wondering about the past. A curse that has stuck with me since grade school.
I looked around the place. It was dark, dirty and full of smoke. Another rarity in these days was a bar full of smokers. I’m not a smoker, never was. But I found something comforting about being in a dive with the hovering cloud of those that did.
“Hey Kid,” Manny said as I sat down at the bar. Funny, I’m 43 years old, he’s maybe 45. Yet from the first time I stepped foot in his bar, he called me “Kid.” Reminded me of that Jeff Nichols’ movie “Shotgun Stories” where all three main characters were named “Kid” “Boy and “Son”. When that movie came out, life for me was pretty shitty. Now? It’s up and down and all over the place.
I ordered an Abita amber. Always did for the first beer when I was at Manny’s. He didn’t put it out for me before I ordered it. He knew that I’d rather not feel like that much of a regular. Even though I asked him to put The Replacements in the juke one day. Just so I could hear “Here Comes a Regular” whenever I wanted.
First sip taken, I sighed a long, low sigh.
“Long day there, Randy?” Manny asked.
“Nah, just the normal. Diapers, words and more diapers.”
“that kid hasn’t learned to shit in a toilet yet?”
“Nah, he’s stubborn. Sometimes, he’ll look at me and say with his eyes “I’m going for the toilet’ and then shit in the floor. I think it’s game at this time. I’m not too worried. Hell, I shit in my pants til I was 10 probably. Not because I couldn’t, but because I hated to do it in public restrooms. So, I’d hold it in and hold it in. Eventually, you lose that battle.”
“Amen to that, Kid.”
“How’s business, Manny? Haven’t seen a lot of folks around this week?”
“Yeah, seems like the cold weather is forcing folks to stay away. Never a good thing. I hate the cold weather. Reminds me of 2012.”
He regretted saying it as soon as those digits came out of his mouth. He looked away, then down at his feet. Trying everything he could not to make eye contact.
“Don’t worry Manny,” I said. “She’s been gone almost two years now. If there’s one thing life taught me, it’s to not count on someone being around for the long haul. Whether it’s death or life, something’s going to convince them it’s time to go.”
“You saying shit like that? That’s like Paula Deen cooking without butter.”
“What can I say? Eventually, you move on. Even from the worst things.
“Time will take hold,” I finished off with, then commenced to finishing off my beer.
“Guess you’re right. Guess you’re right,” Manny said as he poured a double shot of Jameson. Tapping the bar, he walked away.
I stared at the shot glass for a good five minutes, Bob wailing away about shooting a sheriff and all, before I noticed that it was raining outside.
“The world’ll be cleaner in a minute,” I thought, taking the shot and downing it.
“See you in a few, Manny,” I said as I got up. He was talking to some blonde-haired floozy that had taken to hanging out the last couple of weeks. Manny really liked her. And I hoped she liked him too, not just the free drinks.
“Where you going, Kid? Ya just got here.”
“Got to do some writing. It’s been too damn long.”
“You a writer?” the blonde said, perking up a little too much for Manny’s liking.
“Nah, I just dabble in it,” I replied. “They pay me to sit behind a piece of bullet-proof glass and hand out cigarettes now.”
“But you said you had to do some writing?” she asked again, this time causing Manny to turn and flip a new CD in the player. Thin Lizzy’s “Jailbreak”. He knew that album caused me pain, so it was a message.
“Just because someone can write, doesn’t make them a writer,” I said with a tip of my cap.
“Manny, stay cool, I’m out of here,” I finished and pushed open the doors. It was pouring outside. I was going to get wet, very wet, on the walk home.
In the distance, a lightning bolt lit up the sky. I stood in the middle of the street admiring it for a moment. One that didn’t last. They never do, especially when you want them to.
