Short Stories

The Backstory

Lewis Short Stories

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The one saving grace if my life at the moment is the fact that I work nights at the bar. I spend most of the sun lit hours asleep, only rises before the sun goes down. The perk of this is that it limits my interaction time with my grandparents. We pass as I get food from the kitchen for my breakfast (their dinner) or my dinner (their breakfast). Few words are spoken between us, consisting of my grandmother telling me to clean up after myself or my grandfather telling me to pick something up from town. Short and straight to the point. We had long since given up on any real conversations. They didn't like me and I didn't like them. We might have been related by blood, but only by blood. There was no family between us.

My alarm goes off and I smack the off button. I'd already been up for an hour, but didn't dare get out of bed yet. I rise to my feet, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Time to get ready for the day, or night.

Upstairs the smell of curry smacks me in the face. My nose scrunches up in distaste as I make my way into the kitchen. Marge, my grandmother, stands in front of the stove stirring something into a pot. I clear my throat as I enter the room as not to startle her. She's scolded me on that many of times.

"Morning Lewis." Marge says, one of her few acknowledgments to my existence.

I like to keep the small talk to a minimum. No use waisting my breath on someone who doesn't care. I nod my head in reply, ignoring her would be rude, and go on with my morning/nightly routine. A glass of milk and some toast with butter. Jam if I'm lucky, but Marge likes to save those as gifts for friends.

My grandparent's house was towards the edge of town. They wanted to be close enough have easy accesses to food, but far enough to stay out of the hustle and bustle. I'd personally rather live in town. I hated the quiet, the stillness of the countryside. It was boring.

The walk into town was nice. That was one of the few times I welcomed the quietness. It allowed me to prepare myself for work. The night ahead would be full of flirting customers, drunk men who decide to get into fights, and beer.

Beer, my one and only true love. A little can create a dull buzz. A lot can block out the world. I may or may not be verging on alcoholism. My kidney's hate it, but I love it. Guess you could consider that a downfall of working at a bar, easy access to alcohol.

The tavern I work at is called The Ugly Duckling. Yeah, I know. It's a horrible name, but that's what the young couple decided to name it when they bought it thirty years ago. Over the years the place had gotten a name for itself with its live music, amazing burgers, and central location. There's a small inn across the street which is perfect for drunken hookups. I'm on first name bases with the night manager.

I enter through the back door and clock in. Before I can grab my apron I spot a certain pregnant lady trying to carry a large box of wine. By herself.

"Amy what the hell do you think you're doing?" I snap as I quickly walk over to her and take the box from her hands.

"Seriously Lewis, How many times do I have to tell you I can lift things. I'm only five months pregnant." Any argues with a deep sigh.

"I don't care. I ain't letting you lose another one just because you're too stubborn to ask for help." Harsh, but it was true. This was her second pregnancy. The first one miscarried after the first trimester. Amy and her husband were devastated, almost too afraid to try again.

I set the box in the store room and walk back out to find a glaring Amy holding my apron. "Doesn't mean I have to put my entire life on hold." She says as she shoves the apron into my chest. "Now get out there and work your magic."

I chuckle as I tie the apron around my waist. I had gained a reputation of being able to guess the perfect drink for people. It really wasn't that hard, just guessing off of their personalities, but everyone thought I was amazing.

My first customer was a middle aged man who looked like he needed to forget. He was dressed in a black suit, top few buttons on his white shirt undone. "What can I get you?" I ask as I stand across from him.

"A bourbon." The man says, not even lifting his head to look at me.

"Rough day?" I question as the grab a glass from below the counter.

"Yeah, I guess I'd call my wife walking out on me a rough day." The man's tone was void of life, as if he didn't have any fight left in him.

I suck in a breath between my teeth. Not that I knew what he was going through, but I could tell it had a huge impact on him. I set a glass on the counter and pour in a serving of bourbon. "You deserve it?"

The man's eyes jump up to me. For a moment he looks as if he was going to tell me off. "I neglected her. Got to caught up in work and she had to go elsewhere for love."

I couldn't help but scoff. "She cheated." I guess as I slide the glass to him. He didn't need to answer for me to know I was right. "You didn't deserve it. And she didn't deserve you."

The man stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "You don't even know me. How can you say that?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I just have a feeling about you. You're just a guy who's realized what he did wrong too late." I refill his glass, "this one's on me." I tel him before walking away. Time for the next customer.