North American Vampire Council & Past Calling (Hypernaturals 12 & 13)

History of the Bar

Morgan led me by the hand to the Rec room and the bar that started this entire thought train. She patted the top. "It was right here."

I looked at the top. Wide western bar top. Scars of the ages coated deeply in clear, glossy polyurethane. A frozen moment in time from the 1800s that went on to be a symbol of something else entirely for Morgan.

"Right there. I was sitting on this barstool. Wendell was behind the bar making me a Scotch. The bar cooler that was in the storage room was right under the edge here."

I pointed to where this part of the bar intersected the wall. "I put it over there. I was not sure where it went."

"It goes right under here." She tapped. "Wendell was over for the weekend. Something that was happening all the time by then. He knew his way around my house and my bar. He knew my drink preferences. I was off a case, a robbery-homicide that was open and shut, and had the weekend unless the phone rang and Sam was telling me about another case. He often did. My asshole boss always called him first, and dispatch knew Sam lived in close. There was always murder on a weekend. Wendell understood: He was a cop too."

I nodded, not daring to say anything. This is more than Morgan has ever shared about Wendell.

"It was right here." She tapped the bar top. "He opened the ice cube tray, twisted out some cubes, dropped them into my tumbler, poured me a double of a nice single malt, and slid it over to me. It was open and shut, but it was still a homicide. Someone killed someone else. Never easy, and Wendell knew without me asking that I needed the double. I did not have the big cubes we have now back then. Just the kind you get out of rubber trays. The biggest I could find, but not the kind we have."

As tempting as it was to go around and pour her a Scotch as she is describing, that felt like stomping on a memory, so I stayed put and listened.

Morgan is both here and also there and then right now. "I took a sip. I looked at him. I asked him if he wanted to move in with me."

Ahh.

"Wendell, always one to keep it light since he understood me well enough to know I have trouble with deep emotional things. He said something like, 'You want me to put my duffle here? Under the bar?' Something like that. I cannot remember exactly because my brain was buzzing with conflict. I was not only asking a guy to live with me, but I was also deciding to give up a string of lovers. To be committed to one other person. I was not sure I was ready for that idea, even as I asked. My mouth was doing things my brain had not fully worked through."

"Unlike you." I said gently.

"Tell me about it. Back then, I was living the dream. No serious commitments. Sex when I wanted it and with who I wanted it from. Here I was, asking Wendell to be the only one. No more Mike. No more anyone."

"No more Janie?" I asked.

"Janie and I were not what you would call a thing. That was extraordinary to start with, and not a regular event. Not like others. Not someone I called when I was in the mood. It happened for different reasons. When I wanted sex, I called a man. How I am wired. Janie was not... Sex. Not exactly. More like a respite from sex, except that we were having sex, sometimes. Undemanding. Understanding. An escape from the demands of the world. Ken and his constant hopefulness could be wearing. It was different. It was infrequent."

"So, in that moment, the idea of you giving up other men did not include her because she was not in your thoughts." I said.

"Exactly. I was not thinking about the idea of bringing Janie into Wendell and my relationship. It was not a consideration as I sat here and buzzed."