The Roaring Twenties. An age of cars, jazz, speakeasies, flappers, cities, dancing, and most importantly, dreams. The old, as the old always does, worried for the future, and spoke of an immoral age to come, one that bore no resemblance to their own. They worried for their grandchildren, their children, and for all of those in the younger generation. However, the twenty-year olds of the twenties did not share their elders' concerns.
Neither did their country. If a life of 140-plus years had taught him anything, it was that times were always changing, yet at the same time, much still remained stubbornly stagnant. However, you couldn't blame them; it's not as if they had any means of knowing what he did, or any way to see and experience the years of their forefathers, and compare it to their own.
Yep, times were changing, but America still was America. Those stars and stripes that had seen so much over such a short period, would continue on to see much, much more.
Matthew was contemplating why in the world they were calling it "the Roaring Twenties" when he heard the most wretched groan emanate from the bathroom of his brother's apartment.
"Oh," he thought to himself. "I guess that's why." He strode over the door and knocked softly. "You alive in there?"
"Barely," Alfred groaned.
"I told you to go easy on the drinks," Matthew lectured. "In fact, I remember not even wanting to go into that sketchy hole-in-the-ground. But noooo. Someone just had to be an irresponsible moron."
"Oh, catch a breeze on outta here and get off my back, will ya?" Alfred retorted sourly. "Besides, don't you have a moose to wrestle or something?"
"We've talked about this, I'm leaving tomorrow. Try remembering what comes out of my mouth every once in a while, eh?" Matthew snapped back.
Faint chuckles could be heard coming from the bathroom. "Aboot," Alfred giggled. His laughter was abruptly cut off by the sound of him upchucking into the john. Matthew sighed and shook his head. He went into Alfred's bedroom and returned with his bathrobe.
Matthew creaked the door open a smidge, and tossed the bathrobe inside. "Here, throw on the housecoat, and meet me in the kitchen once you're all cleaned up. I'll make some breakfast."
"Housecoat?" Alfred muttered in confusion. "Oh, you mean a bathrobe."
"Eh, who cares. I just don't want to see you in your gitches."
"Okay, now you're just speaking gibberish."
"And now I'm not listening!" Matthew stormed away into the kitchen.
Al listened to his footsteps pad away from the door, and then laid down on the cool tile of the bathroom. His headed pounded, his mouth felt dry, and the lights burned his retinas. Still, despite his discomfort, he still managed a weak smile. Matthew could deny it all he wants; last night was copacetic.
Matthew resisted the whole way there, spouting off some nonsense about how it was 'illegal', and 'wrong.' Alfred waved him off, continuing to drag him along.
"Here we are! The most lively juice joint in New York City!" Al exclaimed jubilantly.
Matthew eyed the speakeasy suspiciously, taking note of the sketchy alleyway, cracked stone, and weakly lit signage. "What's so special about this place again?"
"What's so special about this place?! Why, Matthew, you of all people should know not to judge a book by its cover! It's the ritziest joint in the neighborhood! It'll knock your socks off! Plus, one of my favorite bands is playing here tonight, so..."
Matthew gave the building one more sideways look, and sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. But a few ground rules. One, don't ditch me. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Two, please, please go easy on the booze. I do not want a repeat of that nightmare of going with you and Arthur to that pub.
"Oh c'mon, that was mostly Arthur-"
"-And finally, please, for the love of god, do not use the twin routine."
"The twin routine?"
"When you get tired of a girl and convince her I'm you. I've got my eye on you."
"Alright, alright!" Al threw his hands up in surrender. "Stop being such a wet blanket, and let loose a little! Maybe even try to find yourself a little American Jane to keep you company for the night, hm?"
Matthew gave a non-committal grunt, and the two went inside.
The door hinged open to reveal a desolate, abandoned lobby. Matthew stared at it in confusion until Alfred whispered, "Matthew! Over here!"
Alfred stood in front of a door hidden away off to the right, its glass pane dirty and cracked in several places. He twisted the knob and pushed his shoulder into it until it finally gave way with an awful shudder, revealing a well-kept stairway. Music could be faintly heard coming from down below.
"C'mon!" Al said gleefully, bounding towards the steps, Matthew following wearily.
The steps, unlike the rest of the building, were clean, and the walls were freshly painted and decorated with mirrors and paintings. Al stopped for a second to push his hair back and straighten his bow tie. Flashing a jubilant smile at Matthew, he strode inside, with his brother in tow.
The first thing Matthew noticed was that it was packed with people. A band could just barely be distinguished on a small stage in the corner, their shiny instruments glinting under the lights. A bar ran along the right side of the long room, and on the left side small tables and chairs were crammed along the wall. In the center was a throng of dancing men and women, moving with the rhythm without a care in the world. Some milled about a couple of couches jammed into the back right corner; their cigarette smoke wafting into the air. Mirrors reflected the whirlwind of human activity, making it almost seem like there was double the amount of people. Already Matthew felt a little bit uncomfortable; he tended to not be one for crowded spaces and large mobs of people. However, his twin brother gazed upon the scene with a delighted twinkle in his eye, and tore off to join the crowd, leaving Matthew with no choice but to follow.
Al bee-lined straight to the bar, managing to find a big enough space for the two of them to wedge in. Matthew could barely hear what he was saying to the bartender. A few minutes later, two shot glasses appeared in front of them. Al picked his up.
"Cheers!" Al said joyously, and the brothers slammed them down.
"Okay, so now what?" Matthew asked, his eyes watering a bit.
"Whatever!" Al exclaimed excitedly. "Drink, smoke, socialize, dance, whatever's your pleasure! Let loose!" He gestured to the bartender for another round. "I for one, am going to indulge on some of the sweet nectar I have been refused for so long."
"Al, go easy. I don't want-"
"Relax! At most I'll get an edge, don't fret." He slammed another shot. "We drinking our night away, or you wanna go mingle?"
Matthew whacked down his shot, and then looked around the room. "Well, I guess a little socializing can't hurt, eh?"
Alfred whacked him on the back. "That's the spirit!" They left the bar, and sauntered towards the dance floor.
The brothers sat down at one of the small tables at the edge of the dance floor, looking for straggling hoofers to dance with. Matthew was observing two pretty dark haired flappers over at the couches, when suddenly Alfred tapped him on the shoulder.
Al gave a low whistle. "Would you look at that Sheba."
Matthew couldn't help but agree. The girl Al was referring to was quite beautiful. Her bright auburn hair gleamed under the lights along with the sequins in her dress, and her crystal blue-green eyes shone with youthful vibrancy. She sat alone, and apparently bored; her long creamy legs crossed, and her brightly colored lips pressed in a neutral expression.
"She's stunning, Al," Matthew remarked, turning back to his brother, only to find him gone, already on the move. Matthew sighed disappointedly. Rule number one was already out the window. "Oh well," he thought to himself. "I can still carve out a good time, I guess." He got up and made his way over to the couches where the dark-haired beauties were sitting, gently inquiring about the availability of the remaining seat.
"Hello, doll. You alone tonight?" Al asked the Sheba.
Her bright blue-green eyes darted up at him, taking him in. "Depends. Level with me darling, you here for my kisser or my gams?"
"I'm just here for a couple of drinks and a dance or two, doll," Al replied, a little thrown off guard and trying desperately not to show it. "How about I take you for a spin down the floor, and show you?"
She considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. "Why not? Better than sitting here all night."
"That's the spirit, doll," Al smiled, taking her hand and guiding her to the dance floor.
The band began to play an uppity song, and the whole floor began to move with a renewed energy. Bodies spun and shook and twisted, sequins and sweat glimmered under the lights, but it would've been a miracle if Al noticed any of it. He was transfixed with the young sheba swirling in front of him, her colored, full lips turned upward in a self-assured, cocky little grin. She moved with grace, yet stilled possessed an element of liveliness. She was beautifully put together in her glad rags, and yet she still gave off an impression of authenticity that so many girls lacked under their masks of makeup. Al had seen a century worth of girls, and yet this one had him intrigued beyond measure.
After a few songs the both of them were breathless, so they made their way to the bar. They sat down, Al ordered drinks, and then turned back to the sheba. "So, you believe me now?" he asked with a smirk.
She laughed and gave a nod. "I don't think I've ever been spun around like that. Though, I should probably know the name of the man I'm putting so much faith in."
"Name's Al. Though I should probably know the name of the dame whose trust is in my tender care."
"Lillian, but I prefer Lily. I think it fits me better."
"I'd have to agree Lily. The extra syllable can really weigh down a person."
She laughed her tinkling laugh again, which like the rest of her, was full of life.
"You think I'm joking?" Al said incredulously, despite the goofy grin on his face. "My brother's name is Matthew. Doesn't go by Matt, or Mattie, or anything fun. And let me tell you, it's changed him permanently. Can't have any fun, no matter how hard he tries." Al finished off his speech with a mockingly sorrowfull shake of his head. "Tis a shame."
Lily was laughing uncontrollably. "Ah, you're slaying me!"
"Tsk, and I was hoping to have a few more hours of fun," Al said with mock disappointment.
The bartender placed their drinks down in front of them. "A toast," Al announced, "to a fun night full of good times."
"Cheers," Lily responded, clinking their glasses together.
They chatted as they drank, and Al caught Matt's eye as Matt walked up to the bar further down the counter, and winked. Matt smiled in response, and walked away, balancing not one, not two, but three drinks in his hands. Al couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "Guess that Canadian accent is getting him places," he mused.
And so the night whirled by, Al and Lily alternating between dancing, drinking, chatting, and dancing again. They exchanged stories and ideas, they told jokes, they laughed, and most importantly, they had fun. Al learned that Lily was currently living with her aunt in the city, and worked as a waitress in her aunt and uncle's diner. She had been raised in a small, rural town in Pennsylvania, and her dad was a country vet. She left for the same reason many young people left the homes they had known for most of their lives; she had left for an adventure.
"It's just, I know there's so much more out there, and I just want to see it so bad, you know?" she explained. "I want experiences. But that's just the Dumb Dora in me talking."
"Not at all," Alfred consoled. "The world's a cool place. We're young, we're free, why shouldn't we try to have a thrill while we still can? As long as you remember at the end of the day that America's the best place on earth, then there's nothing wrong with wanting to travel."
She laughed again. "You ever been anywhere?"
"Oh yeah, I've been to tons of places," he replied.
"Tell me about them," she requested wistfully.
Alfred launched into a whole new bout of stories, from the pubs in England, to the food in Italy, and who could forget the German marketplaces in the wintertime. Lily listened intently, absorbing every word he said.
Finally, looking at the clock, she announced that she had to leave. Al felt his heart wrench. He didn't want it to end. The night had been like a dream, and now came the alarm clock. "Well, let me walk you out, at least. Want me to get you a cab?"
"No, no, I'm fine. It's a really short walk, actually. Though maybe I should get you a cab," she said, seeing him get unsteadily onto his feet.
"Nah, my brother's here, and it's a short jaunt to the apartment." They walked over to an over encumbered coat rack, and he helped her into her coat. "Well, I guess this is goodbye," he said, a sad note edging into his voice.
Lily leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. She began to make her way up the stairs, but hesitated on her way up. She turned around. "The diner I work at. It's called An American's Diner, and it's just five blocks up from here. I work mornings Tuesday through Saturday. I'd love to see you there sometime."
"And I'd love to stop by sometime," Al responded enthusiastically.
"Well then, see you around!" she then scurried up the stairs.
"See you!" he called after her. She disappeared out of sight, and with a sigh, Alfred wandered back to the bar for one last drink.
Al surveyed the joint, trying to spot Matthew. He finally located him sitting on one of the couches, a cig in his mouth, and a girl under each arm. Al made his way towards him.
"Look what the cat dragged in!" Matthew announced upon seeing Al stagger towards him. The dark haired flappers laughed besides him. "I remember you saying you were going to take it easy tonight."
"I did! I'm just a bit edged," he slurred.
"A bit edged!" one of the flappers exclaimed. "Says you! He's downright jazzed!"
"Absolutely fried to the hat!" laughed the other.
"Well, I do apologize girls, but I'm gonna have to drag this boozehound home. If you're ever in Vancouver, do try to find me," he said, getting up. He took his cig out of his mouth, and leaned in, both girls smooching him on the cheek.
Matthew found their coats, and they began to make their way home. It was slow going, as Al wasn't quite steady on his feet, and kept having to lean on Matthew for support. Just as he had grumbled the whole way there, Matthew complained the whole way back too.
"You just ditched me! Three rules, and you broke two of 'em! Now I have to drag your hoser-"
"Butt me, would ya?" Al interrupted.
Sighing in irritation, Matthew pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, and handed it to Al. He lit it with unsteady hands, handed the lighter back to Matthew, and took a long draw.
"Mattie, I think I'm goofy."
"You don't say."
Al shook his head. "Not like that. I'm stuck on that dame like no other. She's got me in quite a spot." Al started giggling.
Matthew looked at Al worriedly. "Well, be careful, eh? People like us, well, we don't exactly have the luxury of getting too attached."
"I don't care, Mattie. I just don't care." Al let out a long puff.
They reached the lobby of Al's apartment. "Well, we'll see how you feel in the morning. For now, I better put you to bed." They slowly made their way up the stairs to Al's floor, and made it into the apartment. They finished off their cigarettes, Alfred stumbled into his room, took off his clothes, and passed out in bed.
As Matthew got ready for his night on the couch, he wondered just how serious Al was about this girl. He'd been there before, but Matthew had always possessed enough sense to snap himself out of it. "It could only spell heartache," he'd tell himself. The thing that worried him, was that Alfred was naturally reckless. He'd take the plunge without a second thought, and end up hurting himself badly.
"Worrying won't do anything," Matthew reminded himself. "Who knows? Maybe things will work out. You never know." He turned out the light, and tried to fall asleep, unsuccessful in warding off his worries.