Azalea

I Go To A Bar

**AZALEA**

   The sun has set, and it's cold. I forgot a coat, but I'll be okay. The street lights illuminate my path, and there is hardly anyone on the streets. If my dad hasn't found out I ran now, than he'll surely find out soon. It's been about ten minutes, but knowing my dad, he probably forgot about me. I look both ways, than cross the street. I walk into the bar, that also happens to have rooms for sixty dollars a night. I walk up to the bar, the people sitting there turning to look, than going back to their conversations. I stood there, looking up at the menu. They served hamburgers and fries, and that was about as far as the menu went. The man behind the counter faked a laugh to the drunk who was trying his hardest to tell a joke. The bartender looked at me, then around the bar, as if searching for my parents.
   "I'm alone." I say, watching his eyes quickly turn back to me. He frowns.
   "Where are your parents?" He asked, setting down the glass in his hand. I start to answer, when a glass shatters down the counter.
   "Dammit Harold, I told you it was the last time you had a shot!" The bartender shouted, but no one paid him any attention, and laughter filled the air from where I assumed Harold was at. The guy turned back to me, raising his eyebrow in question.
   "They're upstairs in one of your rooms, but that doesn't matter. Can I get a burger please?" I ask, climbing into the barstool. The bartender squinted.
   "You have any money?" He asks. I stop, looking back at him.
   "Did my parents not set a tab for tonight?" I asked him. He shook his head.
   "No one set a tab up for tonight." He explained. I pouted. He sighed, and pulled a notepad with a pen out of his shirt pocket.
   "Cheeseburger it?" He asked, writing it down. I nodded. He ripped off the order, pinning it to the wheel in the back.
   "You want a soda or anything?" He asks, turning around. I shake my head, turning slightly to see who entered the bar. Ohhhh boy, its Fat Sarah. She looks right at me and glares. She then stalks up to me.
   "What are you doing here?" She practically yells. I smile sweetly at her, going through all of my escape plans in my head.
"I'm getting something to eat." I say sweetly. When approached by a potential killer, being nice and reasonable is the best way to go. She squints at me.
"Where is your dad? Shouldn't he be drinking by now?" She asks, sitting at the stool to my right. I shrug.
"He told me to get something to eat, so here I am." I say. I've always liked Sarah, no matter how large she was. She was the nicer of all the girls. She actually treated me like a human, I guess that's why my dad didn't like her. Sadly, after they split, she got really mad at him, and since were related, she started hating me too. I push the overwhelming feelings down, choking on words of sorrow and regret. Instead, I ask her how she's been.
"Oh, you know, just working. How's your dad?" She asked, looking around.
"He's good. Trying to find a job." I tell her. She looks around once more. I decide against telling her that he's not here. The bartender turns around with my order, setting it down in front of me. I smile at him and he nods. Another crash from down the bar. The bartender closes his eyes.
   "Dammit Harold, pull yourself together!" One of the men shouts. Sarah pays no attention to it, instead, she turns to me and smiles. She opens her mouth, than shuts it, shaking her head.
   "I'm sorry things had to end up like this. I miss you." She says after a little silence. I smile. Her words are reassuring and comforting, so why do they hurt so much? I've never felt like this with any of the other women, but for some reason Fat Sarah mattered to me. I liked her. Loved her. She was the closest thing to a mother I had after seven years. My eyes well up slightly, and Sarah pulls me in for a hug. She bought me clothes that I actually liked, she sang our favorite songs with me, she did my makeup when I didn't even know what makeup was. She cared what I thought, she knew more about me than my own father. I buried my face in her shoulder, her fingers combing slightly through my hair. Why did this hurt so much? She certainly wasn't the first woman my father dumped. I knew it was coming, but I didn't know I'd get so attached. She pulled back, looking me up and down. Her eyes skimmed over my dress and landed on my shoes.
   "Nikes? With a dress? And purple? Really?" She shook her head. I smiled sheepishly.
"Take the food out to my car, we're going shopping." My heart beats faster, I haven't been shopping in so long, and I haven't even seen Sarah in so long. I nod, taking the tray and jumping off the stool.
"Wait, I need the tray back!" The bartender calls after me. I don't stop or turn around, pretending that I didn't hear him.
"Hey!" He shouts, I walk faster, right behind Sarah. I pity the poor guy, I'm sure all of the glasses that Harold breaks come right out of his pocket, and now this tray... oops. I climb into the car with Sarah, smiling as she starts it up and pulls out of the parking lot.