The shift went slow. Al stayed in the back most of the day and the customers seemed to notice. It was a quiet day. Many were telling me of an event happening down in Augusta. There was a debate with some of the local politicians and some wanted to go and see it. We never had much in terms of tourists, so when the regulars didn’t show up, you noticed.

With the last couple out the door, and the sun starting to go down, I shut the front door to the restaurant and turned the lock. It was quiet as I began to wipe down the tables. From the back all I could hear was a sizzling. 

“All right, Al!” I yelled from the front. “You have some explaining to do!”

“I can’t hear you over the sizzling cleaning on the stove.”

“You heard me well enough to answer me, didn’t you?”

“Nope.”

I walked to through the back door in a huff and sat down on a stool we kept for short breaks. I stared intently at him waiting for an explanation. He continued to pour more water over the hot flat surface of the grill and used a scraper and scouring pad to get rid of the food and scorch marks throughout the day.

“Can’t see you over the steam.”

“Cut the shit” I finally said getting up from the chair and walking into the office.

As a gift to himself, he kept an old wooden desk inside. It was about 50 years old and weighed a ton trying to get it in here but I have to admit it added a certain kind of aesthetic. In the middle drawer on the left he included a false bottom that he kept a nice bottle of Jack with two glasses. It was always a celebration piece for new years but I felt it was more important to us now. I reached within the ice machine, grabbed a couple of cubes and filled the glasses with a shot.

I walked up to him and presented the glass. 

“It’s time for you to relax and talk.” 

He finished cleaning the countertop and grabbed the glass.

“This isn’t a time for celebrations.”

“It’s a time to sit down and take the edge off. What’s going on Al.”

He took a sip of his glass and held it in both hands. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and popped one up offering it to me. I took the cigarette and held it in my glass hand. He nodded his head towards the back door and led me out the back. With a flick of the old metal lighter he lit his cigarette and then my own.

The smell of smoke filled the cold sea air all around us. There was a silence between us for quite some time as we just stood there with our glasses and smoked. The night air feeling cold against the back of my neck so I moved closer to the open doorway. 

“She left a note.” He finally said. “You know. One of those it’s not you it’s me ones. I woke up this morning and realized I was alone in the house. After looking around I found it lying on the counter next to the house key.”

He took another drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the ground. The air seemed colder now as I listened. 

“The note wasn’t anything special. Nothing to add to gossip about. She just said that she felt like things weren’t working out and moved on.” 

I stood there in the dark of the restaurant feeling bad about pestering him all day about it. I took another sip of the drink and grabbed his glass from him. It didn’t seem like the best place to try and mess with him about it anymore.

“Women are fickle. Take it from me, been one my whole life. Tonight we should go to the bar and be around people we see everyday.” 

I took the glasses, washed them and took them back to the drawer. He just stood there thinking for a little while before nodding.

“An empty home will be there regardless how late you get to it.” I added.

I made sure the lights in the front of the building were shut off and helped him finishing close up the kitchen before grabbing my coat from my truck. That was the best thing about living in a small town. The bar was right next door. The worst thing about living in a small town, everyone remembers the first time you get blackout drunk. I don’t go to the bar very often.

We walked in the dark as the night sky shone above us. It was beautiful. The stars twinkled and lit the way. In the distance you could hear the ocean waves crashing against the shore. The bar door was an old wooden one taken off of a sailing ship in the 1800’s. The door had one of those prow maidens nailed to the front of it. It made it a very tacky piece but you appreciated the effort sometimes.

Inside was a pub with an arched roof. To go with the theme of old boats, they built the bar out of the hull of a ship. The large timbers made the ceiling beautiful in the light. 

The bar itself was musty and smelled of old beer leaching into the wood of the countertops. Most of the patrons were lined up on the bar watching a football game on a small tv that hadn’t been updated since the early 2000’s. Its box shape stood out like a sore thumb. I couldn’t help thinking my truck wasn’t any better.

“Al!” The bar tender yelled. “And… Red!? Is that you? Keep the wine coolers away from this one lads. She can’t hold hers.”

He burst out laughing as he went in the back room and brought out a couple drinks. 

“This should be fun.” Al said as we made our way in.