OUR

DYING

WORLD

Nate

October 5th

9:00pm

"Fuck you too!" are his last words to Jenny before he slams his thumb down on the little, red button and ends their call. In his blind anger, Nate is too late in hitting the breaks and rolls his car over the stone barrier ahead. He bounces, hits his head on the back of his seat, and grunts from the force of his chest colliding with the steering wheel. "Shit..." He grumbles, blinking the stars out of his eyes. He mechanically climbs out of his 1987 camry into the blistering, Washington wind and sure enough, his passenger-side wheel is stuck over the barricade while the driver's side threatens to collapse over it as well, balancing wobbly on the hedge of stone. The cars on either side of his are parked so perfectly that they highlight just how catastrophic his landing was. This is going to cost me big. I'll be lucky to drive home tonight. Nathan grumbles under his breath as he climbs back inside and tries to back out-but the wheels refuse to budge and the engine starts to squeal and hiss like a dying dog. Nate gives up, and sits there for a while stewing in his rage.

Feeling like steam was leaking out his ears, Nathaniel Warden abandons his car and crosses the parking lot to his destination; Marl's Grill and Tavern. It's a local dive bar that Nate frequents every weekend, and tonight would be no different. I'm not going to worry about my car. Fuck that shitty little tin-can anyway. Jen won't like it, but fuck her too. Tonight is my night, and I'm going to enjoy it. There's a crowd of people standing outside the bar smoking and laughing loudly about something they're showing each-other on their phones. Nate ignores them as he walks by, though as he does, he distinctly hears one of them say, "He's acting like a zombie, what a fucking loser."

For a split second, Nate thinks they're talking about him, after-all he did just crash his car, but when he glances back, they're still huddled around their phones watching a video on youtube.

By the time Nate's inside, he's forgotten about them, his car, and his fight with Jenny; he's fixated, as he always is whenever he enters this bar, by the lovely Kendra behind the counter where a glorious mountain of bottles engulf her from behind. She's fixing one of her patron's a drink while Chef Hanz yells at her from the kitchens to hurry up. Above her the TV is playing a wrestling match between two stacked, bald men in spandex. Some disheveled-looking fellas at the counter watch the fight with beers in hand, roaring and pounding their fists on the wood. A flock of college-aged girls with heavy make-up and revealing outfits are silently hunched over their cellphones in a dark corner, judgmentally eyeing Nathan as he crosses the threshold of Marl's to join the angry men watching the fight. When Kendra notices him approaching, her smile lights up the room.

Nathan can't help but smile back, grinning from ear-to-ear like a kid again. She was simply stunning, her flowing blond hair, her bright, blue eyes, and the swell of her cleavage-all of it left Nathan feeling hornier than he's felt for Jenny in a long time. Nate saddles up at the counter and leans over it with his most charming grin to say, "Hey beautiful, gimme that thing you make that I love so much."

Kendra's eyes dart from him to the shelf below her as her smile thins out into a cute little smirk before she says, "I will if you can remember the name of it. I tell you every time, you should know by now."

"Honey," Nate says, "If I could remember the name, I would, but these precious moments with you are the last sober moments I'll have before fading away for the rest of the night in a drunken bliss. Can you really expect me to remember the name of a drink when I'm looking into those eyes of yours?"

"Then I guess I'll have to serve you something else, now won't I?" Kendra teases, cocking a hand on her waist and tilting her head a little, letting her gorgeous blond locks cascade down her shoulder. Why can't Jen ever smile at me like that?

"Fine, fine." Nate sighs, "Truth be told I shouldn't get too wasted tonight."

"Why's that, sugar?" Kendra asks as she cleans a mug with a clean towel, occasionally glancing around at the other patrons along the counter.

Maybe I shouldn't tell her I crashed the car outside and have to call a tow. It's embarrassing and right now I just want to forget about it. Forget about everything. "No reason, just that I'm getting a little older every day and I don't want my health failing on me in a moment of crisis."

"You're still far from worrying about that," Kendra laughs, "You hardly look a day older than my baby brother."

"How old's your baby brother?"

"Twenty-one."

"Well you flatter me, Kendra. I'm twenty-nine."

Kendra's smooth lips form an O of surprise as she bats her eyes and looks him up and down as if to suddenly see him there for the first time. "No... Twenty-nine? A grandpa like you should be home resting with the missus then, huh? How is Jen doing these days?"

A sting of uncomfortable panic settles through him before he responds. "Jen's doing good… she's doing good… though the two of us aren't… well…" He glares down at his hands before saying, "Tell you what, pour me a shot of whiskey and keep them coming-I'll tell you all about my marital problems."

"Sounds like a deal." Kendra turns around (allowing Nate to examine the swell of her ass) and reaches for a big bottle behind her full of bronze glory. She begins to pour a small portion into a three inch glass before sliding it up to him, leaning onto the counter as well so her face is a breath away from his. He can smell the perfume in her hair over the musk of his drink. "So what's troubling you two?"

What's got her so curious in my affairs anyway? Is she hoping for something wrong? Maybe tonight's my night after-all. Nate's mind wanders as he swallows his shot. The whiskey slides down his throat like hot lava, electrifying his nerves and bringing tears to his eyes. "Well… where do I even begin? You know Jen."

"Known her since we went to Westwood High. Lost touch with her after that."

"Then you know how high the pedestal she sits on is." Nate says, wagging his finger to indicate that he'd like another shot, which Kendra obliges with grace. "I've been working on this book for months and my editor, Dan Crusback, told me today it was no good. According to good ol' Dan, there's no market for the kind of angsty fiction I write. I try and explain that it's aimed toward a younger audience but I suppose that's not good enough." Nate swallows his second shot, wags his finger, and receives a third. "So me and Dan have a bit of a row and next thing you know the guy tells me he's through with me and that's that. I don't have an editor anymore. All my hard work just sitting there on pages that I don't have time to read over myself. A writer can't edit his own work, that's like-that's like blasphemy, y'know? So I go for a drive like I always do when I need to think and I guess I was gone longer than I should have because Jen starts calling me and calling me, over and over." Nate drinks, wags, receives. "When I finally answer she starts going off on me, saying Dan talked to her and claims I was the one who fired him and he's wanting severance for his work on my last unpublished novel as well as this current one."

"What?!" Kendra exclaims, leaning back from the counter with a look of shock and fury.

"I know, right?" Nate laughs numbly, swinging down his fourth… or is it his fifth drink? Who's counting? "So I tell her Dan's full of shit and he can shove his severance up his poop chute... But of course, Jen doesn't believe a thing I'm saying-going on and on about how I need to control my temper-like I'm the problem. So I show her what losing my temper really looks like. We get in a big, stupid fight and… well, I hung up on her before I got here. Let me get another shot."

"Screw shots." Kendra says, putting the bottle away. "You deserve a drink of that thing you love but you can't remember the name of. Gimme a sec, hun." and she briefly closes her hand over his before walking away. Even after she's gone, Nate can still feel her touch on his skin and goosebumps slither up his forearm. Oh man… she's so into me right now. Is this going to happen? I mean, yeah, it's got to right? She was looking at me like I was the only man in the bar just now. Either I'm better at telling stories than I thought, or she wants to jump my dirty old bones. Better play my cards right.

By the time Kendra returns, Nate is feeling pleasantly tipsy and warm in the cheeks. He grins as she hands him a tall glass full of blue, glistening liquor. A bendy straw protrudes from the cap with a little red and white umbrella bobbing along the surface. "That's my girl." Nate grins, "What's the name of this again? I swear I'll remember it this time."

"How about you just call it Kendra's Kiss." She winks as she says it, and Nate's cheeks burn even hotter. Oh it's definitely happening.

Nate is about to respond with what he thinks is a smooth pick-up line when something hard shoves him on his left and he nearly spills the bright, blue drink all over himself. "What the-!" He shouts, turning to face the disturbance. There's a man sitting next him all of the sudden-a sullen looking man in a black suit and fancy green tie. His hair is disheveled with gel and there's dark circles around his eyes as if he's been awake for far too long. The man snaps his fingers at Kendra, ignoring Nate entirely, and grumbles out something indiscernible. Kendra appears taken aback, unsure of what to do. Whoever this man is, he's clearly drunk already. He reeks of booze and filth, a stark contrast to the thousand dollar business suit he wears. He gawks up at Kendra, lips parted, then says, "Didja hear me, girl? Bourbon. The bottle. Now."

"Sir, we don't serve whole bottles here... And you're clearly wasted enough already." Kendra's voice isn't the sing-song, lovely shade it was when she was speaking with Nate a few seconds ago. No, now she sounds scared. Who the hell is this guy? What's he think he's doing-cock-blocking me like this?

The man pulls out a wallet with his right hand, keeping his left hand hanging limply down at his side, and flashes her a hundred dollar bill. "The bottle." He repeats with a slur, a trail of saliva dripping from his lips, sweat pouring down his forehead. Nate notices small spots of blood along the cuff of his sleeve...

"Sir…" Kendra mutters, not even noticing the money. She's backing away from the counter slowly. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Just gimme the damn bottle, lady!" The man thunders, pounding his left hand on the counter. His fist is drenched and slick with crimson. He's bleeding.

"Hey, man. You should go to a hospital for that." Nate says sharply, feeling his chest tighten. Perhaps it was the alcohol he'd already ingested, but something like courage was rising in his chest and making him feel like he could easily throw this guy out if it came to it. Might make me feel better to rough him up too. Just give me an excuse.

But out of nowhere the guy starts to cry. Tears the size of golf balls rain down his cheeks as he begs once more, "Please j-just give me the fucking bottle! I'll give you all that I have."

"Sir, you're bleeding. I'm going to call the hospital and have someone take you there." Kendra says, hastily pulling out her phone.

"NO! No… don't…" The man sniffs and wipes his eyes, leaving a smear of blood across his nose. "It won't matter. Nothing matters anymore. None of you… none of you get it… but you will." He climbs off the bar stool and stumbles off. Everyone in the bar watches him go. Not a word is spoken until the door chimes and he disappears into the cold night...

Even though he's gone, the stranger's presence is still felt. Nate looks at Kendra and she's visibly distraught, shaking as she speaks with an officer on her phone about what just happened. Nathan drinks his Kendra's Kiss in solemn silence, wondering what the hell was wrong with that guy. Something about what he said at the end there made him feel sick. When Kendra is done on the phone, she tells Chef Hanz she's going out for a smoke break to calm down. Nate follows her outside and joins her near the alley where the dumpsters are. The wail of sirens seem to go on and on forever in the distance somewhere… She lights a cigarette and he lights one of his own.

"You gonna be ok to work the rest of your shift?" Nate asks her.

"Yeah." Kendra nods, "It's just… we get a few crazies from time to time in here… drunk men looking for more than they can handle. Tough men who think they can boss a girl around… but I've never had one like that before. Did you see how much blood was coming out of his hand? I've never…"

"Yeah… that was…" Nate struggles to find the right words and instead takes a puff of his Camel.

"Hanz can clean that blood off the counter-no way in hell I am. Last thing I need is AIDS or some bullshit."

"I don't blame you there." Nate smirks, "You sure you're alright? Want me to drive you home?" The words come out before he can stop them, and he mentally kicks himself. You can't drive her home, genius. You're car is totaled.

To his relief she just smiles at him and shakes her head. "No, I'll be alright... My boyfriend will pick me up at three."

There it was. She has a boyfriend… Nate glares down at the ground and smokes his smoke, falling into a fit of dour silence again. She has a boyfriend… and I have a wife. What was I thinking, anyway? I'm not some stud coming in off the street to sweep this damsel off her feet. I'm just an angry, old loser who can't get anything published or get his wife to smile at him anymore. I must be delusional for thinking otherwise...

They finish their cigarettes and head back in. Nate keeps a healthy distance from Kendra this time and orders a grilled steak from her with seasoned fries to go with it. He tries to avoid talking with Kendra and it's made easier as more and more patrons enter the bar throughout the night. A group of young men come in and start playing pool, hooting and hollering loudly in the corner. Some grizzled old-timers surround the bar, speaking in soft voices as they observe the wrestling match on the t.v. which eventually ends causing an uproar of disappointment and cheers. Nate orders another few shots of whiskey, his head in the clouds, and as he finishes his dinner and slumbers off to the bathroom, the bars spins like he's in a dream. He passes underneath a strange clock mounted on the wall in the shape of a cartoon black cat with wide, taunting eyes watching him. It's not until he stumbles through the bathroom stalls when he realizes just how drunk he is.

His phone rings while he empties his bladder. Jenny's face is on the screen; dark hair, beady eyes, and a long nose over a smile he hasn't witnessed in years. Nate's thumb hovers over the green "answer" button… before forcefully pressing the red button instead.

He expects her to call again… but she doesn't.

As Nathan stands up, his stomach lurches. He keels over the toilet and vomits the steak, fries, and all of Kendra's blue kiss into the bowl. He gasps for air, gripping a painful stitch in his sides as more and more waste tumbles out of his mouth. Shit… I feel… fuck… this… Nate slumps to the ground, clutching the toilet bowl for purchase like a drowning man. I better just sit here a while until I feel good enough to stand… just… just gonna sit here and let my eyes rest a bit...