Monday, July 23, 2012

# 86. Sans de La Vie. Chapter 2.

Chapter 2.
It was the election period. A small 15 inch idiot box located amongst tiers of dusty shelves housing hundreds of brewed alcohol from all over the world and some even possibly older than I am, projected the voice of a self-assured, confident man, probably in his early thirties. Though calm and unbias throughout his announcement on the latest updates about the current presidential run, I can almost be certain that this man had his hands down for the Republicans.

A trucker was sitting across the bar; his bulging belly uncovered by his tight grease stained tee, holding chilled beer in one hand, and the other, busy mending to his temples, massaging them. His eyes focused as though he is lost in a dimension no one else know of but him. I took a big gulp from my pint and shivered as the cold beer ran down my throat.

"Don't be like this Samantha,"
"What do you mean? You cheated on me and I have no rights to react like this?"
"I'm sorry Sam, but I love you,"
"If you did, you wouldn't have done what you did!"

The teary auburn model-like woman sitting at the corner of the island stormed off towards the exit, grudgingly fidgeting with the rickety faux-glass wooden pane door, and eventually leaving nothing but the ringing welcoming bells as a resonance to her exit. The air was still accompanied by the faint voice of the charming anchorman in the background as he continued his announcement uninterrupted by what had happened.

I looked towards my own mug of frosty beer and I shifted my gaze towards the handsome haggard-looking bartender who looked nonchalant to whatever that has happened. Though his swiftness and gracefulness in mending the bar and pouring the right concoction of mixtures of the best liquors for his guests had attracted regular customers to his bar, he still was unhappy. He looked as though he has lost something or maybe someone he had once known very well.

Absentmindedly, I pulled my hand towards my belly. My wet hand printed against the red flowery sundress I wore. Underneath the chiffon, I felt the growing bump. I closed my eyes. I am scared. Questions started running through my mind. What am I going to do? Am I able to provide the best for this child? Is it right for me to bring this miracle to such wounded world? Am I good enough for him?

"Don't be thinking too hard now, it's often not very healthy."

The bartender said as he placed a glass of water in front of me.

"This would be more suitable for you than this, lady," he confiscated my beer with a charming grin before I could even protest.

"How did you know?" 

He said nothing but grin as he continued meddling with the colorful mixtures behind his bar. I squinted my eyes trying to see as best as I can against the glaring spotlights, hoping to get a better look at him. But all I can see was his glimmering name tag eagerly proclaiming to anyone it sees, that his name is Jamie.

Jamie. I thought.

I suddenly felt a sharp ache in my head. The bar started to spin. The glass of water that I was holding in my hands, dived to the floor. A loud siren filled my ears canceling off the faint soothing anchorman's voice. I was in total darkness.


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