Days Of Us

7 -Day The Sixth-

-Day The Sixth-

Saturday, week 2

Lydia Carter really wasn't in the mood for work. She wasn't even supposed to be working that day- she never worked on Saturdays. For some reason, though, all the other barmaids had decided to catch the flu and weren't able to work that day, so Lydia was stuck behind the bar.

Lydia was angry at Judy for not being able to man the bar. Judy couldn't even tell a vodka from a cider and had no idea how to work the cash register, which was why she always got waitress duty. If Judy had just been a bit smarter, Lydia wouldn't have had to be there, feeding drunkards their drug.

"Hey," a voice called to her, knocking her out of her trance. It was Raymond, of course, he had only been in a few times, yet Lydia was already getting used to him sitting down on the stool in front of the clock every two days or so.

"Drink?" Lydia asked, looking at him properly for the first time. She got a little shock. Raymond look stressed, or tired, or maybe a bit of both. Either way, his hair was messy, he was unshaven, his chin dotted with stubble, and he had dark shadows under his eyes. Lydia noted, though, that he still looked pretty attractive- in a haggard, messed-up sort of way.

He nodded, smiling slightly, and Lydia picked up a bottle of beer and a glass, placing it on the counter in front of him. He pushed the money towards her and she took it, putting it into the cash register. When Lydia turned back, Raymond had downed the whole glass of beer and had his head resting in his hands.

Lydia leaned against the wall in front of him awkwardly, frowning down at him. He groaned into his hands suddenly and, although the sound was muffled through his hands and she wasn't very easily frightened, Lydia jumped a little. "When does it stop being this bad?"

Lydia looked down at him, frowning. She didn't know what he was talking about and she didn't know whether it was a rhetorical question or not, so she didn't answer him.

He lifted his head, looking at her with his watery eyes. "When does life stop kicking you when you're down?"

Lydia wasn't good with people but she knew when there was something wrong. There was obviously something wrong with Raymond. He was drunk, Lydia realised, smelling the stench of something..... whiskey, off him. He wasn't wearing the work clothes that he usually had, instead he had on a pair of faded jeans and a red tee-shirt.

He lifted the glass to his mouth again, tipping it back to get the last drop out of it from the bottom. Then he put it down on the counter and rubbed his hand over his face lazily.

Lydia stood up straighter and cleared her throat. "Are you alright?" She asked because, after all, she didn't want the guy to have an emotional breakdown in front of her. She'd had enough of that.

He let out a short, one syllable laugh, then sighed. "Alright," he repeated. "She's not alright, she's going soon and I can't stop her," he muttered, mostly to himself, Lydia thought.

Who was 'she'? Was it Raymond's girlfriend? Did he mean that she was breaking up with him? Lydia didn't know if Raymond even had a girlfriend but it would make sense.

"What time is it?" Raymond asked, looking down at his hands that were clenched into fists on the counter. Lydia looked up at the clock.

"Around six thirty," she answered.

He covered his face with his hand, breathing slowly into it, then he lifted his head and stood up. "I should be with her. I should have been there all day," he muttered, looking at Lydia with his light-blue eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she told him, frowning.

He smiled wryly to himself. "That's why I'm telling you."

Then he walked away and Lydia watched him go, confusion etched on her face.

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