It was his birthday. Of all days, right? When I see people out and about now after meeting him, I want to say, “don\u2019t be so happy, don\u2019t have so much fun on your birthday.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Minutes before his birthday is when I met him. He seemed sad, and his body jerked about in an unhinged manner; his walk seemed in control of a puppet master as he hitched along and into the coffee shop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Though I\u2019m alone in this world I\u2019m careful. I\u2019m not one of those nut jobs who despair and do crazy things to herself. My little job and a little apartment in a dingy part of Indianapolis keep me busy and mostly content. Indianapolis is better than Chicago, where I grew up. Though I live in a dingy, cheap part of Indy, the city is a bright place where people live, rather than parade around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The birthday man; he staggered into the little coffee shop I was working and he said he spilled bourbon on his trousers. He used the word trousers, and I tried not to laugh. His eyes were big and blue and his fading red hair looked blond. I was certain that most of the bourbon he had that night had gone into him and not on his \u201ctrousers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was 30 minutes until closing and I glanced over at Joe. Correct, at the coffee shop, my boss\u2019 name is Joe. His actual name is Herbert Lloyd, but he likes Joe. Joe shrugged at me and that was my signal to turn the \u201copen,\u201d sign off and pour this guy a cup of deep, dark, black coffee. Joe swept the floor and clattered the dishes in the steel sink in the back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cListen,\u201d I said to the guy who used the word trousers for the word pants, \u201clisten, you are drunk and this is downtown Indianapolis. You will get put away for public intoxication if you go out there again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI realize that,\u201d his voice sounded sort of choppy.\u00a0 He was broad-shouldered, and he spread his arms across the black round table, lowering his chin almost to the tabletop.\u00a0 \u201cI came in here because I was afraid of just that.\u00a0 I\u2019m not from around here and I\u2019ve heard of American jails.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFinish your coffee,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Joe rolled his eyes at me when I stepped behind the counter to wash the dishes.\u00a0 \u201cWhat are you going to do with the guy? \u00a0You gonna take him home?\u00a0 He\u2019ll puke all over the bus.\u00a0 The guy smells like a Kentucky brewery.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo you think he\u2019s from Kentucky? He sounds funny.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re hopeless. He\u2019s not from the US, okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That fascinated me more. An actual foreigner. I finished cleaning the kitchen, and I swept the floor again because Joe doesn\u2019t always do a good job. Joe and I placed the chairs on the tables all around the man who stank like bourbon. I thought when I was getting my purse from under the counter that the man in trousers looked as if he was in jail; all the chair legs serving as bars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome on. I\u2019ll get you to where you need to be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“My hotel is somewhere near,\u00a0I\u2019m sure.” He looked about, his chin down and his eyes narrowed; “I\u2019m getting better.” He stood and his reddish, thin eyebrows wrinkled into a worried look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We walked toward the center of town and he faltered just beyond a well-lit parking lot, coughed and then heaved coffee and bourbon all over a good portion of Indianapolis.\u00a0 He hung on to a lamppost, swaying in the still night as if a gale force wind was blowing.\u00a0 After the initial launch he wretched, but heroically stretched his neck out to avoid splattering his suit.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t blame him.\u00a0 That suit looked expensive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After barfing for a long time he breathed steadily, clinging all the while to the light post, his nose red and his hair sort of flying about his head in a weird white-red halo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“What is the time, please?” he asked in his clipped voice<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“12:30 AM,” I replied<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Today is my birthday,” he informed me<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Happy Birthday.”\u00a0 Thankfully,\u00a0he stared down at the sidewalk because I was at a loss; he wasn’t overjoyed about the occasion.\u00a0 Should I smile, pretending I didn’t understand?\u00a0 Should I look grave, frown and nod?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m 60 today.\u201d He said it with a repressed belch, his face turning bright red, I thought he would start the dry heaves but he gained control of himself.\u00a0 \u00a0 It was obvious he was too old to be vomiting bourbon and coffee in a foreign city, but I didn’t want to appear rude.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI wanted to come to an out-of-the-way city, buy a prostitute, have incredible sex and get drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, you seem to have done well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, I\u2019ve only got sick-drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not a prostitute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He turned to face me. His eyes looked a bright blue, like a newborn baby’s bright blue eyes. “I would not mistake you for a prostitute.”\u00a0 He seemed sincere.\u00a0 He took a deep breath, “I guess I\u2019m not one either.” He frowned, leaned over and puked again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cListen, it\u2019s late, but people are still around.\u00a0 This is Indianapolis and they will call the police.\u201d I looked about for the slow-moving squad car and the frowning cop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPeople in Indianapolis don\u2019t like drunks?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.\u201d I wanted to sound emphatic, but I sounded scared even to myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGood.\u201d He pushed himself off the lamppost and staggered backward.\u00a0 I grabbed his arm and kept him steady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs that your hotel?\u201d I said pointing to the large squarish building where all rich people go when staying in Indianapolis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes, how did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the best one down here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, I see. That obvious am I?\u201d I rolled my eyes, and he frowned at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Don’t do that young woman, you have beautiful eyes, rolling them like that makes you appear haughty.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I pulled him forward, and we walked into the side of the hotel where I hoped someone would help us. I pushed open the heavy glass doors, concerned because the odor of vomit prevailed about his entire person.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere you are, you bastard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was beautiful.\u00a0 She wore velvety black that shown silver when she moved.\u00a0 Her heels were high and her hair was long and shiny.\u00a0 \u201cAnd with a prostitute, too.\u00a0 You pathetic bastard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hotel management gathered around us and asked the lady with the same choppy voice as the man who said \u201ctrousers,\u201d to be quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHa, I\u2019ll be quiet. After I take him for all he\u2019s worth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t Mabel (Mable? I’m still shocked at such a name) you signed a prenuptial.\u201d He laughed into Mabel\u2019s face. She turned a little green.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou pig, you stink!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I backed away, but he grabbed my arm. \u201cCall this young girl a cab, she saved me from jail tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A small crowd of onlookers pooled in the far corner of the marble lobby, gazing at us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Mabel, frightened; I wanted no one to think I was a prostitute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“This young lady works at the coffee shop down the road and she saved me from the prying eyes of Indianapolis,” said the birthday man in a loud strident voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My heart drop, no one would believe I wasn\u2019t a prostitute now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Please fetch her a cab,” said the man, pulling at my arm and leaning this way and that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I pulled my arm free from his grasp and he staggered and fell.\u00a0 I reached out for him, as did the night porter.\u00a0 In helping him up, he looked at me, his eyes bleary and bloodshot.\u00a0 “I\u2019m so sorry, please forgive me, Mabel, but it\u2019s my birthday, and I wanted, I wanted… something (I could see his little pink tongue as he lisped the word ‘something’).\u00a0 “I don\u2019t know anymore.\u00a0 Five years ago I wanted you on my arm and next to me at dinner parties, but the money has changed you.\u00a0 It’s not your fault, sweetheart.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pulling myself away, I left him to the porter and hotel management and Mabel.\u00a0 He\u2019d never find it, that \u201csomething,\u201d I was certain of that.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It was his birthday. Of all days, right? When I see people out and about now after meeting him, I want to say, “don\u2019t be so happy, don\u2019t have so much fun on your birthday.” Minutes before his birthday is when I met him. He seemed sad, and his body …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[11,21,24],"class_list":["post-45","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-short-fiction","tag-amwriting","tag-shortstory","tag-vss"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"amp_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=45"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1861,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45\/revisions\/1861"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=45"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=45"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=45"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}