Peaked in High School

The Charity Case

Everett has always been an emotional guy. When he was younger, his parents always encouraged him to express himself and how he was feeling without fear of judgement. He never felt ashamed or embarrassed to cry when he was sad or frustrated.

With that being said, he has spent the past hour sobbing after Charlotte drove off leaving him with nothing but a broken heart and an ultimatum. Eventually, he changes out of the suit that he wore to work and into a black sweater and jeans. He is usually much better about managing his emotions and dealing with them in a healthy way, but he feels that the circumstances are dire enough to warrant some pity drinks.

Feeling as if he's in a daze, Everett mindlessly makes the twenty minute drive into town where he parks in the partially full lot. It looks like a good amount of people are indulging in some drinks after work on this godawful Tuesday evening.

"What're you doing here, Ev?" The bartender, Lisa, asks him when he takes a seat on a stool at the bar.

"Just wanted to stop by. It's been a rough day," he tells her hoping that she doesn't ask him to elaborate. Luckily, Lisa is a true professional who understands when customers want to or don't want to ramble about whatever is happening in their lives, so she doesn't push him to speak.

He opens a tab after ordering a rum and coke with the intention of sitting there until he is tipsy enough to numb the pain he is feeling. The usual bustling background noise of the bar goes suddenly goes silent when he hears a crash and yelling.

Whipping his head around, he sees that a metal chair was knocked over and the owner, Chris, is shouting at some drunk guy. The inebriated man is wobbling back-and-forth while mumbling a jumbled response to Chris. Everett, however, can't make out what the drunk is saying over the furious bar owner's words.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU LOWLIFES COMING INTO MY BAR AND STEALING MY ALCOHOL! YOU BETTER COUGH UP SOME CASH RIGHT NOW OR I'M CALLING THE COPS—THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!" Chris is red in the face from screaming at the top of his lungs.

Everett can vaguely make out the guy's slurred response, "'m sorry, man. Give me a couple days—I'll get ya your money in no time." This not-so-reassuring reply is sealed with a hiccup at the end.

Feeling sorry for the man that is clearly also going through something, Everett decides to try to help de-escalate the situation. "Hey, Chris. Why don't you let me cover his tab and we can call his family or friends to come pick him up," he suggests after approaching the altercation.

"Ev, this ain't your mess to clean up. Let this boy face some consequences," Chris tells him as he grabs his cellphone, presumably to call the cops.

"Yo—what the-" the drunk hiccups again, "-fuck, dude? You're seriously gonna call the feds?"

Now that Everett can see the intoxicated man up close, he finally recognizes him.

"Beau? Beau Coleman?" He questions in disbelief.

Beau turns to him and squints his eyes, looking upset at hearing his full name said out loud. "How do you know my name?" He asks in an aggravated tone.

"It's me—Everett. Your old neighbor?" He says the last part like a question, hoping to jog his memory.

The man's eyes widen slightly and he subtly scans Everett in the dimly lit, smokey bar.

"I remember you," he mumbles before Chris speaks up again.

"I'm glad that you two are enjoying your reunion, but I'm gonna call the cops now."

Without thinking, Everett holds his hands out in front of him in a gesture that he hopes will prevent Chris from doing anything impetuous. "Chris, seriously—I know this guy. Please let me pay for his tab and then we'll get out of your hair."