The dying Newport with the red badge of courage was suddenly put out of its misery, by the toe of Lindsey Shaw's stylish brown boat shoe. She had purchased them with her measly paycheck; her dreams these days had been reduced to shoes. The attractive twenty-one year old, sat perched on the ledge of the brick flower bed adjacent to Charlie O'Connor's Bar and Grill, where she worked.
"Drunk hoes can't even put out their cigarettes!" She muttered to herself a little angry. ground another butt into the asphalt, crushing it like a large insect. Like some sort of odd ritual, she felt the need to stamp out all the still lit cigarettes strangers had left behind. It was just the principle of how careless some people could be. The fact that she was on break, herself smoking, did not seem to matter very much. If her mother ever were to learn of this habit she would be stamped out just like those unlucky butts. Her mother was never short of love but contended with no shit whatsoever.
She lit up, the flickering yellow glow of the lighter illuminated her striking green eyes.
She took a long drag of smoke and gazed longingly across the parking lot, wanting so much more than this town—this life.
Everything had been so brutally up-turned when her mom had gotten sick, a year of hell. Breast cancer had forced Lindsay's mother Joanne, a voraciously strong-willed single mother to slow down and reluctantly accept help. Before the frightening diagnosis, Joanne's health had been the furthest thing from her mind. Crisis breeds both, necessity and resentment. What needs to happen usually does, it is after that feelings burn the strongest.
Lindsey took the responsibility of helping her mom through the brutal treatment, she had no one else. Balancing her mom's care, a job and going to college was not a noble undertaking but was trench warfare—a battle of inches. Surgery, hair loss, painful recoveries, radiation burns and late nights throwing up had become the norm for the strong-willed mother. At some point the wearied daughter had started to see her mother as just another source of stress and worry in her life. In the back of her mind she was still consumed with anger that her mom had gotten sick.
Resentment for the situation had turned into resentment for her mother. The cancer had since been defeated but the scars of the body and mind still remained. The body's main function is to heal itself, the mind's however is to remember. The traumas of life leave their marks despite the best efforts to hide them from the world—it's a full time job acting normal.
A single drop of water struck the top of the thoughtful smokers head. She ran her hand through her reddish-brown hair held in a neat braid and looked up. There were no stars out, not tonight.
"You really should quit, honey." Kate snipped as she walked up from behind. "Can I get a cig, babe?" She playfully gave her friend—with matching O'Connor's tee—the finger and handed her a cigarette. Kate and her had been inseparable friends since the sixth grade and always gave each other a hard time just for fun. Much like her boisterous personality, Kate's thick mane of blonde hair was barely containable. She was the kind of person that could make a twelve hour shift bearable; her sense of humor was almost as big as her blue eyes. "Jerry is asking about you again." Kate said rolling her eyes as a cigarette hung out of her mouth.
"He's so fucking creepy." Lindsey replied shivering slightly. She shared a little fire with the end if her friends cigarette. "Who's watching the bar right now?"
"Jenny is."
"You trust her?"
"Na but I needed to get the hell out of there."
"Your such a loser!" Linds stuck her tongue out and giggled.
"You should talk gurl!"
It continued to drizzle lightly as the minutes passed. The two smoked and talk—enjoying life for a little bit.
"We gotta get back in there before Jenn burns the place down." Lindsey joked, exhaling smoke. After a moment she put out her own factory rolled, cancer spewing vice. "Do I have to." Kate whined like a small child, letting her arms flop down helplessly.
"Two more hours." The pair scoffed back inside, back to the Thursday grind. Thursday Night at ten o'clock, O'Connor's was a mournful state. The regulars shuffled in with a sloth-like intensity, ready to drink their world into a vague blur. This place was a magnet for lonely souls looking to find some glum inebriate companionship. The crowd that filled these walls sought to recapture their youth, lost to the years. The pool sharks swam their slow waters and the arm archers tossed their shallow volleys, week in and week out the player's skill never seemed to increase. Multitudes of unique people with different stories, hopes and fears shared the dimly lit space for a few fading hours—alone but together.
She returned to the arduous task of picking up after the barely civilized clientele that called this place their home. The bar was nice enough, albeit slightly run down establishment. The building itself had changed hands dozens of times and had been known by many different names over it's fifty year existence. This temple of intoxication and mediocre entertainment had been called The Gin Wheel, Stinson's Pub, Stop Light Tavern, and AJ's. A shitty bar by any other name is just as shitty.
She efficiently cleared each table's miniature city of its glass buildings like some sort of gigantic rampaging reptile, all that was missing was fighter jets and air raid sirens. She gathered as much glassware and beer bottles as possible before venturing behind the bar, where she would have to walk directly past Jerry sitting at the end. This particular low-life patron had a nasty habit of being a little grabby. As if near a gorilla enclosure at a zoo, she cautiously moved past her transition lens clad admirer. His slicked back, poorly dyed black hair shined unnaturally in the amber light. "Hey babe what's hap'n?" He slurred, as eyes locked on to his exasperated target. He was in his late forties and was wearing a silk short-sleeved shirt with far too many buttons undone.
"How are ya Jerry?" She said eyes rolling, she did not slow her pace in the slightest. She could practically feel his gaze on her small black shorts as she turned around to dispose of her handful of glass objects. "Can I get another whiskey over here?" Jerry barked.
"What's your wife going to think?" She retorted scoldingly.
"She don't care, she's a bitch anyhow!"
"Come on, be nice Jerry." She scolded "One more but its your last."
"You're too good ta me, ya know that?"
"Oh I know." She said under her breath as she poured Jamison into a short ice filled glass.
"Ya really are a good lookin girl... Killer body!" His face slowly contorted into an awkward wink. She turned her head towards the other end of the bar where her friend was now standing and silently mouthed "Wow". Kate just winked mockingly and blew her a kiss. Her finger rose once again in response.
Suddenly the sound of an empty beer bottle shattering rose above Sweet Home Alabama playing in the background.
"I got it this time! Ms. Raisin must be having a good time tonight." Lindsey let out an annoyed huff and grabbed a broom and dust pan. She made her way across the bar to sweep up the debris field of brown glass that a worn out looking fifty-something woman—still trying to pass for twenty—had created. This woman, who Kate had nick-named “Ms. Raisin”, was totally oblivious to the mess she had made. Oblivious to where she was, what year it was...who she was.
"I love this song!" Raisin howled loudly. Her face was heavily caked with make-up and her over tanned breasts were violently pushed to the top of her dress. She was at the bar on the prowl so often that they suspected she did not have a home to take each night's catch back to. Her life drew sneers and whispered judgement but she was happy--which is more than many could say.
Lindsey had the floor nearly clear when the front door of the bar creaked open like an old time saloon in a western film. In walked Frank, another regular and one of the few patrons that were actually agreeable. Something always seemed so familiar about his face but she could never quite place it. He had a few times, vaguely mentioned that he knew her mother but always somehow managed to change the subject. Frank toiled away during the day as a mechanic and spent his nights drowning in cheap vodka.
"Hey Lindsey, having fun yet?" He smiled as he tipped his worn camo baseball-cap.
"Oh you know living the dream." She smirked with a shrug, broom and dust pan still in hand.
Like clockwork he asked: "How's your Mom doing?"
"Pretty good, she's feeling better everyday." She reported with a smile.
"That's good, that's really good!” he said, scratching his scruffy salt and pepper stubble like he always did. His dirty blueish-grey jumpsuit was slightly baggy and reeked of oil, sweat and gasoline. "I got to talk to you about something." His voice suddenly shifted to a more serious tone.
"Hey, let me get rid of all this glass and I'll be right back!" She strolled absentmindedly past the Jerry. He was even more liquored up, discretion had completely eroded away by now. Feeling particularly bold he reached out and grabbed a feel of her ass. Before she even had time to react, Frank grabbed the back of Jerry's head and in a burst of absolute rage, slammed it into the bar. His face struck the drink resting in front of him in an explosion of whiskey and glass. He let out a low grunt and crumpled to the floor from his barstool—totally unconscious. His glasses were in pieces and blood ran down his face like a red, slow motion waterfall. A few small pieces of broken glass were embedded in his forehead and sparkled sickeningly.
A collective gasp descended over the room.
"Ohhh Shit!" Kate blurted out fighting back a smile of disbelief.
Lindsay turned around slowly, with no idea what had just transpired. In total shock she surveyed the scene. "Come on man what the fuck?" Lindsey said with a sigh surveying the scene.
"I am sick and of him treating you like that!" He exclaimed defiantly.
"Please don't call the cops." He pleaded desperately. His tone changed rapidly as it started to sink in just how forceful the impact was to Jerry's head. "I'm so sorry for the trouble." He fumbled through his wallet not noticing that something had dropped to the floor. He produced a wad of cash and tossed it onto the whiskey soaked bar. Without saying another word he rushed out the door.
"Can you see if Grabby’s okay for me?" She said to Kate, carefully stepping around Jerry, still on the sticky hardwood floor. She was transfixed on the object Frank had dropped, it was a small photograph of a young girl. She picked it up, something was weird about it.
"What a fuckin asshole!" Jerry moaned as he returned to consciousness. The girl was about three years old, she was wearing a blue dress and her reddish hair was in pig-tails. She racked her brain to place where she had seen that dress before. The most unsettling part was the child's green eyes, it was like looking at a strange mirror. Then it hit her like a freight train, the little girl was her.
"I got my head smashed just because she's dressed like a little slut!" Jerry spewed out, destroying all hope of sympathy.
"Oh shut the fuck up!" Lindsey screamed, her eyes tearing up.
She bolted out of the door the photo still in her hand. It was now pouring outside as she sprinted across the wet parking lot. Frank's beat up red Pontiac GTO was beginning just rumble out of its parking space, when Lindsey furiously slammed her fists down on its rusty edged hood.
"Stop the car asshole!" She bellowed at the top of her lungs.
She ran around to the driver side window and pressed the soaked picture to it.
"What the fuck is this?" She demanded kicking the tire. He slowly rolled down the window.
"Calm down. I'll explain ok?"
"Calm down?! You better explain!" She said indignantly.
He stepped out of his car totally oblivious to the downpour.
"Shit! I didn't want you to have to find out this way." He paused. "I'm your Dad, Linds." He announced emphatically.
"What?" She was in shock.
Her world had once again changed in an instant like she had been struck by lightning.
"And you never thought to mention that before? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Her voice cracked, rage began to fill her mind once again. "I wanted to—I really did ." He said defeatedly, casting his eyes to the oil tinted puddle at his feet. "I was going to tell you tonight, before that asshole..." He trailed off. "I'm a fuck up, I know that."
Still seething with anger she shouted:
"What gives you the right to just step into my life whenever you feel like it!" Her voice was beginning to grow horse.
"I know. I know." He lightly touched her shoulders. "I just wanted to see you."
"It's not fair you know..." Her voice much softer now. "All of of this shit." Tears and rain streamed down her face as all the feelings that had been neatly locked away for the last year flooded in. Every inch of her being was soaked with emotion and water. Suddenly the door to O'Connor's burst open. Kate was ready for a fight.
"Is everything alright, Linds?" She chirped.
"I gotta go!" Frank huffed.
"Just wait a minute!" Lindsey urged.
"I can't... I've done enough damage for tonight." He slammed the car door, shutting everything out. The tires squealed in the damp lot as the car careened away into the night. Lindsey took a deep breath and recomposed herself. "I need a drink." She said, letting out a cynical laugh—totally overwhelmed. "I can make that happen, just please tell me what the hell is going on." Kate put her arm around her friend and they both went back inside the building that had caused so much unrest this night. They passed Jerry stumbling out the door. He was still holding a dirty bar towel to his bloody nose. The rain soaked young woman walked in like most of the patrons did; despondent, lost and worn down by the world.
They settled into a table at a dimly lit corner of O'Connor's and discussed these new developments over drinks despite still technically being on duty. Lindsey stared at the ice in her deep pink vodka cranberry, still trying to make sense of this whole mess. "I don't understand why he would never say anything the whole time I've worked here? Or mother for that matter?" she muttered despondently.
"People do the weirdest shit around family." Kate shrugged. "Speaking of family, your mom just walked in." Lindsey turned her head to Joanne, blonde wig and all walk up to the bar and order a drink. She had been a brunette like her daughter but when the chemo took hold she wanted a change that she could control for once. "What the hell is she doing here?" Lindsey grumbled.
Cranberry juice in hand, Joanne made a beeline for the table her daughter was sitting at.
"Hello, Lindsey Marie."
"Hey mom." She sighed.
"What's up miss Shaw?" Kate chirped in as she rose from her seat.
"How are you Katie?" Joanne said as they hugged.
"I'll let you guys talk." Kate started to walk away.
"Wait... Don't go." Lindsey whispered through her teeth—barely opening her mouth—as she grasped at her friend's arm to no avail. The mother sat down, setting her drink down with a thud. Wasting no time, she inquisitively said: "So... You met your father tonight."
"Yep." She paused. "Wait...how do you know?"
"Katie texted me."
"What the..." The damp and disgruntled bartender trailed off, looking around for her friend.
"You can yell at her later, let's talk." She smiled.
"Why would you not think to mention that my dad lives in this town and goes to the bar I freakin work at!"
"I'm so sorry, honey." She touched her daughter's cheek softly.
"It's like he wanted to part of my life. He always asks about you." Her eyes started to well up with tears.
"But he wasn't in our lives, was he?" Her tone growing more stern. "When I got pregnant he walked out. I gave him every chance to be a father to you. I sent him a letter when you were three, sent him a picture of you. He never even wrote back."
"This one?" Lindsey held up the tattered photo. "He still had it."
"A guilty conscience for leaving doesn't make you a parent!"
"How did he know about the cancer?" She let out a little sob.
"I googled him and gave him a call, I thought he should know." She admitted emphatically. "I told him about how you were taking care of me." Smiling lovingly."God this thing itches!" She laughed pulling her wig off. Her slowly re-growing hair resembled a military buzz cut; she had certainly become a soldier. Her personal war against those treasonous insurgents that called themselves cells, had left her with a fair share of PTSD.
"This shit sucks ya know?" Lindsey cried.
"You've turned out pretty damn great without Frank."
"No, I mean all of this—this year of hell." She took a shuttering deep breath.
"I know babe... I know." Joanne stared into the distance, beginning to tear up herself. The wounded daughter stood up and silently embraced her wounded mother--in that moment they understood each other fully and the pain seemed to fall away.
The silence was broken by a hushed "I love you" from Lindsey—she couldn't remember the last time she had told her mother that.
The night's events had reminded her just how important they were to each other.
"I love you so much Lindsey." Joanne replied in a soft, yet strong tone. "I really do appreciate everything you do for me." She grasped her daughter's hand.
"We're fighters you ya know?—And we got each other." She squeezed her hand affectionately.
Lindsey sat back down with a relieved sigh, wiping her tears away. She felt as if she had been given a lifting burst of flame like a hot-air balloon.
She raised her glass smiling."To a couple of bad bitches!"
The two women clanked their glasses together, the melting ice jingled softly. Life churned on at O'Connor's—business as usual.
Joanne let out a small yawn, her stamina was slowly returning but the days were still a long haul.
"I gotta call it a day—I'm exhausted." She sighed putting her wig back on. "Do you need a ride, baby?" She asked still adjusting her hair.
"No." Lindsey said decisively.
"Are you sure?"
"I was planning on riding with Kate."
"No, you just want another cigarette before you get home!" She quipped.
Lindsey's face started turning red and her ears felt hot.
"No. I just—" Her voice slid into an inaudible mumble.
"Seriously?! Do you really think I can't smell it on you? Since the chemo I have a nose like a bloodhound." Smiling sheepishly.
"I'm sorry." She huffed embarrassedly.
Joanne pulled her car keys out of her pocket. "It's okay, you're a grown ass woman. What you should ask yourself though is, why? Are smoking for you or because of me?"
"I don't know, mom... I don't know." She shrugged feeling guilty. The fact her mother was not mad made her feel even worse for some reason. Not wanting to ruin the rare occasion they that were getting along, she gave in. "Ok fine, I'll go home with you."
Lindsey said goodbye to Kate. It was she who had made the night vaguely tolerable. In life, sometimes family are not related and sometimes relatives are not family.
When they finally left the bar the storm had passed, the neon and car headlights reflected off the fresh rain droplets. In the distance cars hissed by at the speed of life.
"I'll give you a minute" Joanne mimed smoking. "No judgement."
She went to get the car leaving Lindsey to her herself with her vices. She pulled out a cigarette and carefully placed it between her lips with a long sigh. As she fumbled in pocket for her cheap plastic lighter her gaze shifted upwards. A small break in the clouds revealed a patch of starry night sky.
"Shit." She muttered realizing the lighter was nowhere to be found. She placed the soldier back with its blood brothers and in a moment of fiery liberation tossed the entire pack across the parking lot. The green and white package splashed into a large oily puddle. The dirty parking-lot water rushed in slowly soaking each tobacco warrior to a mushy oblivion.
There are no battles won without costs.
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