May 17, 2019

Eury Morrissey

O’Brian’s had an unusually large dance floor for a small town fake-Irish pub. Then again, it also doubled as a dance club, sometimes a reception hall. While odd, I enjoyed it. It meant more dancing, less standing around, and not being interrogated by Alaska or worse. I wanted nothing more than to find someone tonight. And maybe end up somewhere other than Alaska’s in the morning.

I’m sure that’ll happen.

I ignored the thought and watched Alaska as she took long swaying steps across the empty gravel parking lot. I readjusted the straps on my bag more out of nervousness than necessity.

What were you even worried about Eury?

People, being denied, general idiocy in public…

Shut up.

While right, I didn’t need that bitch spelling every little thing out for me. I followed behind Alaska. An overgrown berm was between us and the bar making the slouching building look collapsed and eaten by the tall grass. Alaska climbed, then descended the berm with surprising efficiency, considering the heels she wore. The hill was too high for me to scale comfortably, or safely.

Or alone. Just let her take care of you, you baby. Just let her—

I stomped over to where the gravel lot met the main street, in time to get a faceful of river-scented wind. It had a certain industrial scent to the water that my dad liked to blame on the mines. The very same mines who employed the majority of the people in town, just after the federal prison, and that Marguerite School on the hill outside of town. So, it was safe to say that all of his activism wasn’t well-received at town hall. Personally, I blamed the smell of sewage on the other three towns upriver.

As I rounded the berm back towards O’Brian’s, I felt Alaska’s gaze as she stared me down. A look of pity and ‘understanding’ was obvious as she stood, hand on hip, at the dimly lit patio of O’Brian’s.

“You okay?” Alaska asked me as I got closer to her.

“Yep.” I tried my best at a genuine smile.

There was no reason for you to be like this with her and you know it. She cares, is that so bad?

Yep.

“You ready to cut several new rugs tonight, dear lassy?” She asked, cringing in tandem with me at her bad Irish accent.

“Food, then dance until I die,” I said, intertwining my arm with hers.

“Well, let's try not to die. Not tonight, at least.”

Inside, O’Brian’s was tacky and dilapidated, but that didn’t stop the immediate hit of nostalgia. This was the place where I rediscovered my love of dancing after I lost the bottom half of my lungs. There was a time I resented my parents for forcing me into dance when I was a kid. Alongside everything else they got me to do. Nowadays, the wild, unstructured movement of club dancing was something I had grown to adore. It seemed to be the only kind of exercise I could stand, and it was at O’Brian’s that I always had the most fun. Maybe it was the DJ, the atmosphere, the lax dress code, or the woman that always seemed to make sure we went every time I came back to town, but whatever it was, I did know I couldn’t find a place like this anywhere else. It had a kind of charisma to it. A friendly neighbourhood, homeless-man charm.

Even though the music was already blaring from the stacks of amps around the dancefloor, the floor itself, in all of its multicoloured glory, was practically deserted. Except for two surprisingly drunk women sloppily dancing in front of the DJ booth, and the apparent ghost of a hundred-year-old cowboy silently tapping his boot off beat across the dance floor from them. He felt like an omen of something weird.

“It is Friday, right?” I yelled into Alaska’s ear.

“Yeah!” She said, scanning the room around us.

“Where’s everyone then?”

“Give ‘em some time. Last horn at the mines only blew an hour ago.”

Alaska pulling me by our intertwined elbows, she dragged me to an empty booth squished off to the side of the room. The spot gave us a great view of the dancefloor, the front door, and the three screens playing staticky music videos along with the music. Within a few seconds the waitress, confusingly dressed in a bright orange bavarian-esque barmaid outfit, came to a stop tableside. Over the thirty years, O’Brian had changed hands so many times, the tonal whiplash did not bother me at all.

“Hi there, dearies. What can I get for you this evening?” The waitress asked in her faux-Irish accent. I eyed the drink menu up and down before settling on a glass of water to start. It took a moment, but the waitress finally recognized Alaska as the sheriff’s deputy she was, then she finally took a good long look at me. “I’m sorry, love, could I see some ID? We have a strict no minors policy here.”

My expression soured.

“C’mon Eury, it’s a compliment! It just means that you look young.” Alaska tapped my shin while giving the waitress her widest smile.

“It is the law.” The waitress repeated, forgetting her accent.

“The law,” I muttered as I grabbed my ID. Looking young, a boon past forty, a curse when eighteen trying to get into the campus bar, and beyond fucking annoying when you were almost thirty. The shock on the waitress’ face was a familiar one. Other than the bags under my eyes that I developed in university, my face hadn’t changed dramatically since I was sixteen.

“Great! Thanks, lass.” The waitress fell back into her accent before taking both of our drink orders. A mug of light beer for Alaska and a stiff drink of cold water for me.

When she returned, I ordered a basket of chicken fingers with a side of the greasiest fries that I had ever eaten—the perfect pre-dance fuel. The bar slowly filled as we ate our food. By the time that Alaska had moved on to her second beer, the dance floor finally had enough drunken bodies for me to lose my self-consciousness.

“I’m going in!” I shouted at Alaska as I slipped out of the booth.

“Happy hunting!” Alaska raised her beer at me splashing some in my general direction. If she continued on like that, we’d be taking a cab home tonight. A pang of shame overcame me, but I tried to ignore it.

I walked past the other full tables that overlooked the sunken dance floor. I tried my best to ignore their eyes and let the music start to flow into me. A disgusting combination of electronic dance and country was blaring over the speakers, but as the singer sang a lonesome ballad about his dog running off with his truck or something I let the hard and fast bassline start to control my shoulders, anyway. I put a hand on the thick gold railing that ran down the short set of stairs to the dance floor and descended into the pit of bodies writhing against one another.

It was the perfect time of night. Early enough that most people hadn’t yet drunk themselves stupid, yet late enough to lose whatever inhibitions. I began to let my head sway along to the beat as well. With a single, wild guitar riff ripping through the speaker above me, I felt the last of my hesitation leave me as I let my body move to the beat.

My physical jubilation lasted a solid five minutes. In that time, my mind went blank. The iridescent strobe lights blinded me about fifty times, and I let three different boys dance with me before they took off. The first saw my face, and a moment later he looked like he didn’t want to risk the perceived jail time. The second got a better look at my cannula and must’ve decided the logistics of taking me home would be too much effort.

The third was a bit less disappointing than the other two.

At least at first.

We took a song to size each other up; I knew that my dancing was way better than someone else in my position, and he was good enough too. Let’s just say that I got the impression that he knew how to move his hips. Obviously, he liked what he saw because we spent the next slow song together, very close. I could taste the tequila he had been drinking—maybe he was here with a bachelor party? Just as the song was coming to its end, he leaned in tight to my ear.

“Want some blow?”

He put his hands up as the strobes turned a bright ocean blue. It highlighted the small baggie of white powder in his hand. The baggie, as well as the buckets of sweat streaming down his face and dampened his shirt.

Holy shit! How the hell’d you miss that?

“It’s cool if you don’t wanna! Just thought—” Mid-sentence, his face suddenly scrunched up, followed by an onslaught of drowned out sneezes. Looking back up at me, he looked confused for a moment, before pointing towards the front door. I let him run off without much concern. The last I saw of bachelor number three was him sick against the wall outside the bathroom. Overall though, I wasn’t too broken up about it, there was still a lot of night left.

That was until a thick hand tapped me on the shoulder.

His deep voice floated towards me on the scent of cheap whiskey he spoke. “Hey there. It’s a surprise to see you here, isn’t it, Eury?”

“Not if you knew me,” I said as I turned to face the man.

I felt my hands flexing open. There were exactly zero people in Sheridan who both knew my name, and who I wanted to see right now. And once I finally recognized the man under his new short-on-the-sides haircut and the short beard, all of the fun that I had that night fell flat as his feet were.

My hands immediately shut. “Mr. Davis?” I shouted over the new power ballad blaring over the speaker.

The smile that slashed across his face made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

Do not be that excited about that, asshole!

Davis closed the distance and the other dancers sealed us in.

Davis leaned in. “I wasn’t sure it was you, but I’m glad that I came to say hi!”

“Yeah, it is me,” I said, consciously trying to back away from him, although that didn’t stop him from keeping his face close to mine.

“So how long have you been back in Sheridan?”

“I got back in today,” I told him.

He mouthed ‘oh’ as he pulled his face away from mine. A second later, it occurred to him that he was just awkwardly standing close to me, not even dancing So he proceeded to move his heels off beat.

“Your mom had mentioned that you were planning on coming home! I didn’t realize it was this week though. I’m glad that I caught you though. Can I buy you a drink or something?”

What the fuck is your game here, Davis?

It would’ve been much easier if I was drunk, then, at least, I had an excuse for thinking so slow. For three and a half years in high school, this man was my friend—my only friend—and maybe something more until I realized I was catastrophically wrong. I didn’t want to make the same mistake that night.

I shrugged and made a hand gesture that I didn’t hear him.

And if I kept doing that, maybe he’d get the hint and leave.

Davis stopped his ‘dancing’ for a moment and considered diving back in towards my face. A glare and a sour expression kept him away however. A sweaty shoulder bounced into me and I realized I wasn’t dancing anymore.

How long have you just been standing there creep? I’m sure we already look like a Children of the Corn reject, try not to stand out too much more.

I tried my best to fall back into the beat but every step felt like I was lagging behind everyone else. At the very same moment, I became acutely aware of how difficult every single step was on my lungs. How every movement threw my oxygen tank off balance. And since Davis approached me, I found all of those inhibitions I had lost ten minutes prior. Frustration began to pile at my feet, lungs, backpack. It made my breathing harder, even more so with Davis around.

“Eury?” Davis said, pulling me in by my shoulder. But, somehow, that small bit of contact felt more intense than any of my past dance partners. “If you want to take a rest, I’d love to buy you a drink and catch up. Want to find somewhere to sit?” There was something electric in his voice that stripped away my defences. If it wasn’t, then why did every small-hair on my body stand at his every word?

“I...We…” I could feel my face burn up as his got closer to mine.

“Are you okay? Is it your lungs?” His hand stayed where he held me.

“How ‘bout we get that drink,” I said turning towards the stairs leading out of the dancefloor.

His hand dragged itself down my arm as I tried to lead him through the crowd.

Oh? All according to plan eh?

I turned a sharp right, away from our booth—and Alaska—and towards the bar. Lask would only complicate the plan that was quickly forming. A pair of stools were abandoned at the far end of the long wooden bar. Perfect.

Perfect for what?

Isn’t that a good question? If my body wasn’t going to cooperate with him around, I might as well take the reigns and steer this in the direction I wanted to all those years back. I pulled myself onto the stool against the wall, and kept my back to the frayed cedar, facing the empty chair. Somewhere along the way, my excitement had grown from just a small spark into something thunderous. Once he took the stool, I finally got a good look at him.

It was at that moment I realized something was missing. Not a tooth or an eyebrow. Nothing that obvious at a glance. Instead, it was something I found in some of my previous dance partners at least for the first little while, a sort of fire that Davis lacked.

As his gaze travelled up and down my face, he tucked one lip behind the other. There was no passion to it. No longing. No hunger. Rather, he looked at me like I was a restaurant menu he has browsed over a hundred times. Not a single thing about me lit a spirit in him, and it was about to kill me.

“So, what’re you drinking?” Davis asked. Out of habit, or maybe stress, I adjusted my cannula. “Oh shit! I’m sorry, can you even drink with oxygen? I remember reading something…” He trailed off as he dove into his own memory for the factoid. Of course, it was one that I was very aware of.

There were many reasons as to why one in my position shouldn’t drink. “Hey! Can I get three doubles of Tequila over here!” But not a single one could trump my reason to drink right now, that was for sure. The bartender that had, up until I had yelled for her, been admiring something or someone out on the dance floor snapped to attention at my voice.

I guess my teacher's voice was coming along.

“Wait, wait. I don’t drink Tequila.” Davis leaned into the bar, putting himself between the bartender and me.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was ordering for myself.” I said as I tried my best to avoid his eyes.

He mouthed ‘oh’ again and leaned back on his barstool.

Those damn, cold eyes. The same icy blues that I had fallen in love with when I was sixteen. And when I glanced at them now, there was nothing. Not then, and not now.

As the bartender lined up the three shot glasses, I felt a pang of hesitation. Even if it was to forget for just one night, did I really want to risk this? All for the ability to ignore what was plain as day, written all over his face.

The second the first shot was poured, I grabbed the tequila and threw it down the hatch. I slammed the glass down, then grabbed the second and threw that one down as well. And right as the bartender pulled the bottle of Mexican-Gold away from the counter, a large slender hand shot out from behind me and snatched it.

“For me? Thanks!” Alaska’s words had a light touch of slurring. Of course, at least sixty ounces of light beer and she was barely affected. Country girls in a nutshell. “Wooo!” Lask’s face scrunched like she had just sucked back half a lemon. After a few seconds, her face had returned to normal. “So, Eury,” as she slid the shot glass back onto the counter, she wrapped an arm around me, “who’s your friend?” Lask was burning hot, and that wasn’t pairing well with the stomach ache I had brewing.

“What? You don’t recognize him? I could’ve sworn all y'all had a crush on him too! Or back in the day at least.” Damn. The Tequila was really working its way into my brain.

“Too?” Davis asked nervously before Alaska leaned in close to his face.

“Oh shit! Is that Mr. Davis? My god!” Alaska was in full social mode, the perfectly wrong thing for this moment. She even had this almost valley girl lilt. “It’s been forever! How’re you?”

“Hey… there.” Davis turned back to the bar and grabbed his tumbler of whiskey, and brought it to his lips.

Lask leaned away from him and spoke directly into the top of my head. “I didn’t think you were drinking tonight? Or ever.” I turned to glare at her, but she was right, so I really had nothing to say. Back to Davis, she continued with her schtick. “Don’t tell me you forgot about me! You were one of my favourite teachers!”

“When you weren’t out skipping with my sister that is.” The moment I said the words, I regretted them instantly. Helen wasn’t a topic of conversation that Alaska and I touched on. Ever.

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty terrible with names.” Davis stammered. Alaska looked hurt, but more than anything I was surprised. How could he have forgotten her?

“Alaska? Alaska Bell? Really?” Alaska reminded him. It took a few seconds but slowly it dawned across Davis’ face.

“Oh yeah! Of course! So sorry about that! I’ve had a lot of students, I’m really sorry Alaska.” Lask nodded along, happy to be remembered.

“I’m glad you do! Who knows what I’d do if you forgot me completely.” She said as she turned her attention to the bartender. “Hey! Can I get another thirty-two of the blonde!” As Alaska was distracted by her order Davis looked at me with wide apologetic eyes that seemed to scream I’m sorry, who the hell is she? I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, what’s the plan tonight? Your place or hers?”

“Alaska, what the fuck!” I spun hard on my stool, both to avoid Davis, and to get a better angle to kick her in the knee.

“What? I thought that was what was happening here? If I’m not mistaken that was exactly why we…” But Davis’ hand on my shoulder interrupted her shitty apology.

“That’s not it. I wasn’t trying to do anything Eury, please don’t…” And then it was my turn to interrupt.

“Oh don’t worry Davis. I know that wasn’t your plan, but, but…” Come on Tequila, don’t fail me now, “but what would you say if I told you that was my plan?” In less than a second, his cheeks turned bright pink, and it wasn’t because of the whiskey. I intently watched his eyes. There was no way that he could ignore me after I said something like that. There was no seeing me as that little girl you knew back then. I was a woman now and he’d better respect that.

“I’m sorry Eury. I think there’s been a big misunderstanding, I mean, I’m…”

“Oh god, if you say that you’re my teacher or something stupid like that, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking burst!”

“No, what I’m trying to say is that I’m taken,” Davis said, hitting me like a runaway train. “I’m getting married at the end of the summer.” He couldn’t even look me in the eyes before he grabbed his empty glass of whiskey. He took a dry swig off it, before putting it down onto the bartop again. He stared at the clear glass, while I stared at him.

I dropped off the barstool hard. The thick rubber of my boots’ soles dampened the sound, but I felt the drop like a punch to the gut.

“Eury, what’s going on? Are you okay?” This time, it was Lask who was concerned for me.

“I’m fine,” I said as I took the first step away from them.

“Where are you going?” Lask’s nails dug into my shoulder as she stopped me, spinning me to face her. Instead of the same smile, she had a sad tinge to her look.

“I’m going back to your place.” I tried to pull away from her grip but she kept me still.

“Let me walk you.”

“Don’t you fucking pity me! Let me go. I’m leaving.”

“I’m not…” Alaska said, but I pried her fingers off of me. “Eury, c’mon! Just wait up for me, I gotta just…”

“Finish your fucking beer and I’ll see you at home. I’m going and don’t fucking follow me.” And with that, I disappeared into the crowd and out the door. As I opened the double-wide wooden doors, letting the cool night air wash over me, I looked back at the bar, but quickly looked away. I didn’t need to watch as Alaska returned to Davis’ side. I just needed my music.