Chapter One

“Wasn't that clock green?”, Nate asked, “Like yesterday?” Not realizing he’d asked this aloud. The clock in question was hanging across the room, just above the signs behind the bar. The bartended was serving someone just under where it was hanging.

The bar wasn't very loud today; it rarely was on any weekday, really ever. If they had arrived on the weekend, then it would have been far worse. Everyone fresh off and out of work, just getting paid, or being a part of a dart league. Everyone would have clogged up the room, making it a nightmare to even simply walk inside the building. Let alone the awful volume of the noises, it left a ringing in your ears that went unnoticed till you made a phone call the next day.

“What’re you talking about?” John turned around to see whatever Nate had been staring at the last few minutes. They had been haunting this particular bar for a while now, already memorizing most of the regulars by face alone. It was usually the same ten people or so on most week days anyways. Never any wild changes. Not usually.

Sometimes some college kids would drift in and out the front doors. Any number of them would drink as part of some unadvertised bar crawl. While others just played billiards on the overly abused pool tables to the far most side of the room. Those were the best ones to watch, trying to show off to their dates with their vast expanse of expertise on the subject. They would explain the rules, making up some nonsense overheard from someone else or found briefly off the official WPA website, typically this was followed up by a lecture on how to put some English on the ball. To the normal, noncollege educated layman, who had spent their lives working and trying to simply get ahead in life, it became painfully, and decidedly obvious that these children had no idea what the hell they were talking about. Still, it was at times worth the moment or so to eavesdrop in, perhaps for a good laugh every now and again.

John didn’t see anything new or exciting, just the pool table being open for once. He looked at Nate and shrugged, “Everything looks normal. What are you looking at?”

Nate shook his head, then gestured to the clock, “The clock. I thought it was green. Not a big deal, just looks new to me is all.”

“What are you even on about? That clock, over there, has always been red, man. It’s older than we are”, John chuckled and drank some of his watered down draft beer. Instantly forgetting the clock's color and existence.

The red clock showed the time at half past six. The room reflected this by slowly filling with people, with more steadily coming in as the clock moved on and on, relentlessly forward to the future. As more people shuffled in, the volume steadily grew along with them. The early evening crowd…

John took another drink from his beer, sighed and then cautiously asked Nate, “Any news on your aunt yet?”

Nate stopped looking at the clock, letting his eyes rest heavily on the beer in his hands. He listened to the door of the bar steadily becoming a revolving door, constantly opening, and closing with people coming, and people leaving. Each person who opened that door was letting a bit of early winter air gust itself inside with them. The room was growing steadily colder, with none of the newcomers seeming to be noticing it. Everyone was coated in layers of long shirts and jackets, keeping them nice and warm, and dry. Nate slowly shook his head, letting his shaggy hair drag across his ears, “The doctors don't think she's going to pull through.”, he explained, quietly, “They've been trying to discuss donating her organs.”

Nate’s voice dropped perceptively on the word ‘donate’, not by a lot, but just enough for John to notice. He didn’t question it, nor did he point it out.

“What?! She's not even dead. How can they even think about talking about that kind of stuff?” John’s voice rose at the indignation, he was near shouting. He had always liked Nate's aunt June; she was a nice lady who had always asked how everyone’s day was going. And she would always mean it too. She’d even listen patiently while you’d tell her, even if nothing had happened all day she would listen all the same. A good egg is what John had called her. Nate suspected he stole that phrase from her, although he had never caught her using it herself. It just sounded like something she’d have said about someone she’d liked. She was silly and old fashioned that way.

Nate smiled and quietly explained, “They're just doing their jobs. That’s all,” he wiped his hands, trying to warm them up. “It’s weird and too soon, but I get it.”

“Bunch of vultures. That’s what they are, Nate. Medical vultures! Waiting to strike when something bad happens to someone,” John downed the remainder of his beer, finishing it off impatiently. He eyed over at the bar as he wiped froth away from his mouth. From the look in his eye, Nate guessed that he was debating braving the growing crowd of people and getting himself another one.

“No, no, I get it. Really,” Nate moved his hands as he spoke. He always became more animated while he explained things, typically with his hands and head. “They're just thinking ahead. That’s all. I doubt they were being malicious as they walked me through the options. That being said, it still didn’t help hearing that stuff,” he played with the droplets that hung along the side of his beer. Watching the suds dance around the bottom, before rising back up the liquid. His finger traced lines along the glass’s more rounded edges. “It's all just kinda, surreal. You know? Like it’s out of a dream…” Nate let his voice trail off, leaving the sentence and thought incomplete.

John put on a sad smile, though his was already sad enough as it was, “I'm so sorry, Nate. Your Aunt was always so nice to everyone. Even that creepy neighbor of hers. Mister.…whatever it was, you know who I’m talking about. The weirdo a few houses down that’s always watching the road.”

“Yeah, Mr. Peters. He’s the worst,” Nate smirked absently at his beer, “As much as it hurts to say it out loud. I'm going to miss her. Aunt June is the best.”

John watched Nate avoid looking at anyone in particular. Mulling over his next question before shrugging and asking anyways, “You visit her yet?” he watched for Nate’s reaction, trying to gauge his thoughts.

Keeping his thought the best he could to himself, Nate nodded, “Yeah, a few times now. Of course I visited her. Why wouldn’t I have done that already? I went yesterday, actually. She’s still in a coma though. We don’t really talk much while I’m there. Obviously,” he sniggered and drank more of his beer, leaving the glass about half empty, “Went over to Briar’s Park afterwards. That was nice. Remember that old banyan tree, off over in the corner, just past that last playground area?”

“The one with all of the roots coming off the branches and down into the ground, right? What about it?” John cocked an eyebrow. “They tear it down or something? It’s got to be what, over thirty years old, maybe fifty?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s the one! It’s still there. Little rotted out in the middle. But it’s all there otherwise. I stopped by and ended up taking a nap there, for just a little bit.”

John sucked in air, trying to suppress a laugh, “You napped in the tree? You haven’t done that since we were in elementary school. Remember my folks would joke that you were a cat whenever someone had caught you doing that?”, John rubbed at his barren jaw. “You were always a bit of a weirdo for that. So, nothing ended up happening to you, while you, a grown man, slept in a tree tucked behind a playground? At night I would assume, naturally so at that?”

“Obviously nothing happened to me. But I did have a weird dream from it thought.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I actually dreamed I was here. It was a little bit different. That wall was pushed further back. And it was empty. Just plain empty. Jukebox was in the same place too. Playing ‘Sister Golden Hair’, you know, by America. Anyways, it was just a weird dream to have. Nothing overtly special about it.”

“You slept in a tree, Nate.” John pointed out within a serious tone. “I’d say a weird dream is exactly something you’d deserved from doing that.”

Someone by the pool tables shouted off about how the cue ball was neutral. John and Nate peeked over in confusion and decided that they were better off not hearing anymore. Lest it sound more silly than that statement in itself was.

“Ready to go?” Nate scooted himself closer to the end of his side of the booth. It had been time to go for a while now, he thought. The bar had been reaching that lovely point where you could not hold a conversation any longer. No matter how much you screamed at the person inches in front of you, they would never hear you accurately. Plus, that final nail on the coffin, people were sitting on the pool tables. Ever the kiss of death for the night in the guise of misuse of other’s property.

“Yeah. I'm at my limit anyways,” John frowned, looking defeated as he scooted his own exit from the booth. He almost bumped into a college student, a tall blonde they had seen there before. She was trying to navigate to her friend’s table with three pitchers too many of a light-colored beer. After she apologized and John told her that it was entirely his fault, he was after all, not using his blinker. John even offered to help her carry some of the pitchers for her, which she quickly and gladly accepted.

“I’ll be outside,” Nate said, before doing just that. He needed the fresh air anyways. It had grown cold and damp inside.

It was also chilly outside; mid fall to early winter would do that. The air had moistened a damp aftertaste onto itself from the early afternoon rains, they were becoming a regular occurrence for the area. Puddles that hadn’t dried up just yet littered the parking lot, as well as the potholes that lined in the road. There were streetlights that would begin to come on soon, one by one, they would be illuminating the puddles and soggy sidewalks of the roads and vacant parking lots.

Noises from the bar had sealed themselves away. As the door shut itself closed, it felt like Nate was being cut off from everyone, and from all of the rowdy noises inside the bar. He smirked at the very idea of being cut off as a bad thing. He was thinking about how silly the idea even was in and of itself, when John reappeared, sauntering out of the bar doors, it wasn’t more than a few minutes after Nate had walked outside himself.

“Woo! Guess who’s made a new friend?” There was a stupid grin all over his face.

“Bigfoot?”

“Close. Hurtful, but close. Her name is Ashley,” John fishing out a partially crushed pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket. “And she has a bunch of nice, friendly, and very single friends that like cheap watered-down beer.” Before John closed the package and put it back, he noticed the next one in the row of cigarettes was his tenth in the pack, making it the lucky one. He did a little jig that Nate politely ignored with a small smirk. Little rituals that saved off the darkness of more serious times was the answer for these little moments, or so they had already discussed before.

“Always a plus,” Nate noted with a polite bob of his head. “Glad to hear you made a friend though. God knows I could use one right now, with everything going on I mean. Sure is lonely suffering without a friend in the world to help make it easier on me. Woe is upon myself for this damned isolation.”

John scoffed, nearly dropping the cigarette from his mouth. “You wound me sir. Cutting me to the quick. I thought I was your friend. Didn’t I raise you better than that?”

“I’m older than you, John.”

“I started young. Sue me,” they laughed as John lit his cigarette. The air grew saturated with the smell of American Spirits cigarettes, the light green ones. They had a specific smell that Nate had grown uncomfortably used to. He never smoked, though he was beginning to understand the temptation the more stressed out he became. “You off tomorrow?” John asked him, breaking apart his train of thought.

“No, no. I’m working tomorrow. Off this weekend though. The boss offered for me to take the week off. Said he’d cover and everything. But I think the routine is good for me. Keeps me grounded and all that. If I was off, I’d be just bumming around at the house, staring at the dog and walls. You know, overall just feeling sad and sorry for myself. You know how I get.”

“There are worse things than that nowadays. Maybe. Just maybe, and hear me out, feeling sad is probably good for you. Releases chemicals and endorphins in your brain or some nonsense like that anyways.”

“Right. If you say so.” Nate nodded cautiously in agreement, even if he really did disagree with the sentiment. “I don’t think I can afford the medications that comes with that though. Gets pretty expensive pretty darn quick. That, and the therapy alone might make me cry.”

“No one can afford any of it. But think about the ice cream you’d get after each therapy visit instead,” John offered, shrugging hopefully his hands up. “Sounds pretty sweet to me. All I ever get is ignored when I talk about my problems. Hell, I’ll buy you some rocky road if we went right now, sport.”

They both talked like this for a while longer in the humid mist. Filling the space and time with nothing of importance, and all of it being pure and simple nonsense. Both were each doing the best they could to lighten the mood and make the other laugh. All the while the vacant street beside the parking lot to the bar had by then developed a breeze that was working its way around them, despite them standing off to the side. They talked and shivered, watching the new arrivals pull into the empty sections of the parking lot, filling the little bar with more needed business, and unneeded noises inside.

John took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the ash fall from the end with a bob of his fingers. “Makes sense. You are going to let me know if you need anything, right?”

“Yeah, man. I can do that,” a passing car distracted Nate from his thoughts. Once he regained them he added, “Thank you.”

“Now what? What’re you thanking me for now? All I did was cover your two lousy beers. Oh no, a whole what, eight dollars?” John teased in an over dramatic fashion, “Light, weight, bum. That is what you are at times.” His smile vanished as he returned back to a serious look. His eyes were filled with concern. “But seriously, Nate. I get it. You’re welcome. And anything at all, just please, let me know. That’s all I ask. Even to watch a crappy movie and get drunk. I've got you covered.”

“We haven't done that in a while,” Nate watched along the streetlights, just then turning on and beginning the swift process of illuminating, section by section, of the area in a flickering light-yellow hue. The lights never turned on in the correct order, thus giving the road a tunnel-like feeling of being underwater, with nothing more than just under the surface feeling visible. This unsettling feeling vanished as soon as you pulled out and onto the old main highway, about a quarter block east past the ever-changing gas station. That road was always properly lit, though littered with unchanged pot holes that everyone local knew when to avoid.

“I’ll see you man,” John pulled Nate into a much welcomed hug. John then walked off towards his car. He would be more than fine to drive; his tolerance was far higher than Nate’s would ever possibly hope to be. John living five minutes away also helped elevated any lingering concerns as Nate watched John give a last final wave, before disappearing into the barren evening traffic, and driving home.

Nate walked the half mile to his house from the bar in a slow calm pace. He was a little surprised that John hadn’t pressed him on letting him drive him home, like he always tried to do. John knew Nate liked the walk, and it seemed that he in some way had come to respect the fact that Nate needed it today of all days. It bought Nate time to clear the cobwebs out of his thoughts and focus on other things. Things Nate pretended he could control in the usual day to day nonsense, like cleaning the house, fixing his car’s minor problems before they became worse for wear. Or even what to do at work the next day. All minor inconveniences and things that kept him grounded in the world under his feet, and not off drifting into the voided sky floating above him. Each step felt lighter and more relaxed as he walked, breathing in the soggy air helped, and leaving sad thoughts behind him where they belonged was a liberating thing that he needed. More so than he would have admitted to John.

Pulling his jacket closer to his chest helped to keep the warmth closer, for just a little while longer, as his home crept up and into view. Center house in the cul-de-sac, past the blue house that had been vacant for two years.

Before Nate came up to the door, with keys in hand, something darted against the front window. A flash of gold that disturbed the blinds. Nate cocked a crooked smile and unlocked the door, once inside he asked, “Hey, Margo. Miss me?” It became more than apparent that Margo, his aunt’s beautiful golden retriever, did indeed miss him. She jumped and jumped, leaping springily behind as she continued following him towards the backdoor. She sat down, patiently wagged her tail while waiting for him to open the door. Her eyes seemed to scrutinize all of his wasted movements not used in opening the door, judging his overall sluggishness with doglike disapproval.

Once the door was opened, finally, Margo rushed out and into the backyard to do her mysterious business and the personal like that Nate knew he didn’t want to know. He left the door propped open so Margo could come back in once she was done.

Nate got a glass of water from the kitchen before joined her outside. Margo was deep in her investigations, sniffing the bushes with deep suspicions and cautious thoughts. Nate sat down in one of the outdoor lounge chairs, ignoring the layer of sogginess that had drenched it.

It was the right temperature outside to keep all of the insects away. The chilly wet seasons sometimes scared them off making coming out onto the back porch quite nice. Nate decided or rather realized with a soft smile, that he should sit outside more often with Margo. Maybe even camp in the backyard once winter was back in full swing again. Margo would love that. Being bundled up within a blanket, near a campfire, and watching with satisfaction, Nate freeze, slowly, oh so slowly, under the dim stars hanging overhead. That would be really nice.

“Hey, pup. You done yet? I got a life to live here.”

Margo barked and wagged her tail obnoxiously. She was smiling. He scratched her behind her ears, right where he knew she liked, “Come on pups. Let’s go get ready for bed. Aren’t you tired? I know I’m tired.”

After filling her bowls, one with some kibble she would chip away at when needed, and the other with water, Nate cleaned himself up. Then he stretched and laid himself down on the couch in the living room, and reached for the lone remote that sat alone on the table.

“Oof…Jesus, pup, little warning, next time. Move over already! Ow! Alright, come here! I forgive you. Now then, what are we watching tonight? Cartoons, a movie, or some awful Law and Order?” Nate waited far longer than he should have for a reaction from the canine. Margo just smiled stupidly back at him, simply happy to be there and included in any discussion at all, “Fair enough then. Cartoon movie it is. Let’s go with something easy on the eyes. Maybe even something we’ve both seen before where everything works out for the best.”

The dog curled up in the blanket beside him, shoving her full weight against his chest so that he had to push her back so that he could comfortably breathe. Margo huffed and adjusted so that they were both comfortable once again. Albeit less so for her than for him.

They both fell asleep watching an old batman movie. It gave Nate weird dreams, but he didn’t mind that so much. Everyone ended up needing some hero’s help eventually anyways. And who better than a flying bat?

Next morning the alarm on Nate’s phone went off at its scheduled time. He hit the snooze option to keep it quiet for another five more minutes, not bothering to see what time it was. The second alarm went off three minutes later, before the snoozed alarm could come back on again.

“Fine, Fine. Fine. I’m up! I’m up,” Nate rubbed the bits of crusted sleep out of his eyes and moved so that Margo would be as undisturbed as he could possibly manage. Twenty minutes later he was in the kitchen warming up a cup of coffee. A flash of gold fur caught his attention.

“Up already? Alright, alright, I’ll let you out. Hold on a sec. Hang on, alright, there you go now. Sheesh,” the golden dog rushed outside and greeted the backyard with a gusto Nate couldn’t help but envy. “Crazy dog,” Nate said to the doorway.

The sun was peeking up, just over the edge of the trees down the road. It would be light out in fifteen more minutes, Nate reckoned. The morning nip in the air was wonderful during this time of year. Any real excuse for a jacket, or flannel, was something to look forward to. Even with the constant risk of rain peeking around each corner.

A bark knocked him out of his reverie. Nate let Margo in once she barked again, announcing she was more than very much done. “Hold on a second, pup. I could have sworn…your collar was…oh, whatever. It’s nothing, pup. Just going crazy is all,” Nate sipped at his coffee, and added quietly, almost imperceptibly to himself, “One day at a time…”

Chapter One

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