Drawn Out

Everyone left except me. They all knew when it was time to go home but I usually capitalized on that extended time to broaden my horizons, so to speak. I was sitting alone, chasing another shot with a beer as I took in my surroundings. At first, all of the sounds filling the bar were blended and indecipherable.

I leaned deep into the stiff wooden chair and let my eyes close and my mind go blank for a few moments. This was my ritual to reset my drink clock. When my environment changed or I found new drinking buddies then the rule was my drink count started back to zero. I open my eyes and see the pub in a different light, literally and figuratively.

The lights overhead have been dimmed and the string of year-round Christmas lights were glowing. There are new faces changing the songs at the jukebox that will be more fitting for the new, younger crowd. The regulars are still sprawled out across the bar; holding on to the territory they have claimed for twenty odd years.

The tension in my shoulders relax as I finish my beer and I pull out my deck of cards. I learned over the years to never sit with nothing to do. Not just for my personal entertainment but to act as an open invitation to new friends. Always having something in hand opens a portal to new opportunities.

I split the deck, let the worn cards fall into place and give a hearty and satisfying shuffle. I hear the front door swing open and look up. I see a gruff man entering the bar with a bandage covering his entire arm. His head didn't move but I could sense that he was scanning the whole place. He turned his body about thirty degrees and headed in my direction. A jovial smile lit up my face and I beckoned him to join me. To my utter surprise he returns the same smile. From the glint in our eyes I could tell we were thinking the same thing: we were going to get along quite well.

He makes a stop at the bar, nods at my table, and lays some cash down on the bar. As he sits down to join me the barback brings us two pints and two amber-brown shots, presumably whiskey. With the friendliest grin he thanks the young kid, lifts his glass and turns to me. I mirror his movements, we say cheers and drain our shots.

The night flew by as we chased spades, spirits and sherbet. Together we shared life stories, commiserated over our woes and rejoiced over our accomplishments. We waxed poetic on our aspirations and wildest dreams. We learned so much about each other that night it was as if we had been friends for decades. So, when Frank sat up straight, squared his shoulders and looked me dead in the eyes I knew he was about to share something serious.

“Come to Alaska with me,” he said in his deep but gentle voice. “Leave this behind. Start your life over and get another chance at happiness.”

I stared back at him, a mix of shock and longing in my face. I learned that Frank was only in Seattle by happenstance. He suffered a major burn to his arm and where he lives in Alaska there are no burn units. The closest hospital was here in Seattle so he was flown by a medical helicopter. He had been in the hospital for two nights and was discharged just half an hour ago.

“Frank,” I said with a soft laugh, “you leave tomorrow! I have a job, an apartment, and a girlfriend all waiting for me. I can’t just-”. I slowly trailed off as I finally made eye contact. There was some sadness in his brown eyes, as if he felt a deep empathetic pain for me. But he wore a reassuring smile. There was a long but gentle pause.

“I know you have a job you hate, an apartment that costs you all the money you work for, and a relationship that should have ended a year ago but you two just can’t call it quits. When are you going to start living your life instead of chasing it by the tail? Letting it torment you with promises of a better tomorrow that is never going to come?”

I had to admit that he was right. It was as if he saw right through me and totally understood who I was and what I was grappling with. But I can’t just up and leave, can I? That would be morally wrong. It would not be courteous or professional. It would be disrespectful to my girlfriend and to my commitments.

Suddenly, Frank let out a full laugh and I saw a twinkle in his eye. “I can’t make this decision for you and I don’t want to. You have to make this decision for yourself. Go home and think about it, but if I don’t hear from you by five in the morning then I’m heading to the airport without you.”

He wrote his phone number and hotel address on the damp coaster and as he did so a bell rang and the bartender shouted for Last Call.

“Holy Hell!” We shouted simultaneously with looks of incredulity. What had felt like a few hours was truly six full hours. We walked to the bar and ordered one more shot of whiskey.

Frank grinned at me as he proclaimed, “I hope to see you tomorrow, kid!”.

We drained our glasses and as we shook hands Frank pulled me in for a hug. We patted each others’ backs like we were old friends sadly departing, uncertain of when we’d see each other again. Frank turned and walked out but I decided to capitalize on the last few minutes before leaving was the only option left and it was time to finally go home.