It's 9 o'clock on a Saturday.
The room is dimly lit with those old, out-of-date, green hanging lights. They're a weak source of light, not that the yellow glow has much to show. The room is large, mostly filled with dented tables and wobbly chairs, the ones you would usually have to put blocks of wood under to keep steady. The bar top takes up most of the space, it's a long slab of wood covered with alcohol stains it has collected over the years. A few pool tables sit here and there. However, the first thing you notice when you walk into the room it the poorly built stage, just big enough to fit the worn out piano standing there. It's not a pretty place. But you'd never be able to replace the feeling you get by walking into the bar and smelling the scent of beer that seems to be built into the old building itself.
I'm sitting at the bar, my eyes locked with the bottle in front of me. My hand wanders down to the bar stool I'm sitting on. I poke my fingers though the busted red leather to feel the cotton underneath. It's a habit I have. My other hand swings up and grabs the beer in front of me and I take a swig.
The door opens, causing squeaks and tinkles to cut threw to air. The regulars are arriving. Slowly the once empty room begins to fill up. The regulars take up tables and the bar and soon the familiar sounds of Saturday night start filling the room. The murmuring of people mix with the crashing of pool balls and the clinking of glasses. Only one thing is missing.
There's a man sitting next me. He's a stuffy British man named Arthur Kirkland. He's slumped over, a glass of ale griped tightly in his hand. He brings the glass to his lips and chugs as if his life depends on it. He must be thinking about old memories. With an ale in his hand is the only time he'll ever remember, it numbs the pain. He takes one more life saving gulp and turns to me.
He says, "Boy, will you play me a song? Make it sad and sweet, like those memories I can't remember."
I smile and nod.
The piano is a lot like the bar, old, worn, and infused with the scent of beer. The once shiny black wood is now dull and rough and the keys are no longer a bright ivory white. But, it plays like a dream if you know how to play it right. And I do.
I place my hands on the yellowing keys and press down, letting a loud string of cords fly out. Then my hands begin to dance across the piano and a song begins to form. It floats through the air, slipping around the people's heads, winding its way into their hearts. It's sweet and happy with an undertone of melancholy, just like those memories Arthur refuses to remember. I asked him to tell me the story once. Thankfully he was drunk enough to agree. It's an old story, one from his child hood, a tale of a friend that left him.
'I can't remember his name or his face,' Arthur says all the time, 'but he was loud, annoying, and a bloody idiot.' There's always this large grin on his face when he says that, even if he is trying to hide it behind his normal scowl.
Arthur closes his eyes and smiles as he listens to the melody he comes here just to hear. I can't help but feel he's with that nameless and faceless boy reliving the happiness he felt as a boy.
So I play him a song, I'm the piano man. I'll play him a song tonight. I'll play him a melody as long as he's in the mood, until he starts feeling alright.
I lightly tap the keys, letting the song come to a whisper of an end. The crowd doesn't cheer like normal bar goers, they know not to. Besides they're all still lost in the story of the song.
I get up from the piano and make my way back to the bar. I take a seat in front of Alfred, he's the one who's working the bar tonight. He places my half empty glass back front of me a gives me a warm grin.
"You sure made that old brit man happy, dude." I give him a smile and take out two cigarettes. I put one in my mouth and hand the other to him. He lights them both up.
Alfred's nice kid, he's just energetic. He has enough energy to power all of New York City. Alfred is fresh out of college and ready to take on the world. He took a job here until he can find another one. He has giant dreams, ranging from being a movie director to a fire fighter. But for now he's the bar tender with a large grin and a hero complex.
The young man looks up from the mug he was cleaning. Alfred scans the room and slowly his ever present smile falls. He lets out a sigh.
"I don't know, dude." He says to me. "I think this is killing me. I want to be out in world. I'm sure that I could be a hero, if I could just get out of this place."
I take out my cigarette and exhale, the smoke crawling its way up to the ceiling to join the rest. I stuff it in the ashtray and stand up. Alfred gives me a questioning look but I simply walk away. I walk up to piano and take my seat. For the second time that night I place my hands on the piano and begin to play.
Alfred's song is much different the Arthur's. Arthur's song focuses on the sweet happiness he had as a child but Alfred's is all about the future. His song is loud, exhilarating. It tells a story of adventure and determination. I peak open my eyes to look at Alfred. His eyes are closed, and the giant grin is back, and he looks likes going to explode into 'heroic' laughter any minute now. I find myself smiling as I watch him lose himself in a world where he's the hero.
So I play him a song, I'm the piano man. I'll play him a song tonight. I'll play him a melody as long as he's in the mood, until he starts feeling alright.
My eyes wander over to a table push back in a more secluded corner, there sit another two regulars. They are quietly conversing as they drink. The first man is Ludwig. He's a large German man that fills about every stereotype. Big, muscular, slicked back blond hair, blue eyes, strict, and can drink beer till the sun goes down and comes back up, among others. Ludwig's a military man. He's been in the service since I first met him, and he'll probably be in there for life. Not that it's really a bad thing, he's very good at what he does.
The man sitting next to him is Kiku, a quiet, mysterious Japanese man. He, as he likes to say, 'reads the atmosphere and refrains from speaking'. He's an interesting man. Once Kiku told me of his dreams, he has large dreams much like our bartender. He told me he's making a manga, a backwards, Japanese, comic book of sorts. Kiku's a wonderful artist and his story line is amazing, however, he hasn't much luck in getting published. Until he hits it off he'll continue to work as a chef at that Chinese restaurant.
Without skipping a beat my hands change their dance. The tune falls from its dramatic story to a more calming tone. Ludwig and Kiku automatically stop talking and look up at me. They both have embarrassed blushes on their faces, they can tell that this song is for them. Slowly they lose themselves in the calming song of the piano. They close their eyes and they find themselves in a world where there's not a war going on and no cheap Chinese restaurant food. Even from here at the piano I can see their usual serious and stiff nature melt away, which is honestly no easy task.
Just as I finish my song a bottle of beer is placed next to me. I look up to see Elizaveta grinning down at me. I take the beer and nod in thanks. She grins wider and turns around to give the rest of the regulars their drinks. As she's walking I see her mouth move as she quietly talks to herself. She must be memorizing her business notes. By the way her face is crinkled up I can tell I'm right. Elizaveta is going to college to own her own business. College is hard for her, what with her already being in her late 20's and having little pay. Among that, no one really believes in her, mostly because she's a woman. But she's working harder then you can even imagine. She's ready to show all the doubters how successful she can be.
I take a large drink from my bottle and place my hands back on the piano. I play a happy little tune. It's a catchy melody that gets stuck in your head without you even noticing. And just as I expected I see the crinkle between Elizabeth's eyebrows relax. She begins to hum under breath and tap her toes to the rhythm. She practically skips up to the next table.
Elizaveta lays a round of beer on the table before walking away. There sits a group of business men from the Nordic Company. Tino, Berwald, Mathias, Norge, and Ice are their names. They often come here, especially Mathias, to have a few drinks. However they never come together. They often sit at different tables and drink by themselves. Today they sit together, all crammed there at a table. Sparks are flying and arguing and annoyed sighs can be heard, but from the twinkles in their eyes I can see that they find it much better then drinking alone.
So I play them a song, I'm the piano man. I'll play them a song tonight. I'll play them a melody as long as they're in the mood, until they start feeling alright.
Each person here has a story behind them, with each story I play a song for them.
Feliciano is the one flirting with all the pretty ladies. He is a young man stuck in a dead end job as a large C.E.O's chore boy. He makes barley enough money to keep him alive. He often has to fall on his friends for help, money, and sometimes even food. He sends me a childish smile waving his arms wildly as hello. Feliciano's song is always happy, but there's always a dark sad sound hidden between the cheerful notes. It's a lot like Feli himself. You never really see the frown behind his smile.
Roderich sits at the bar a cheap drink in front of him. Roderich is a fellow piano player so it's always nice to see him. He can always find the hidden stories in my songs. He's been married to three women and divorced each time. Yet through all this he's still in love with his first wife, who just so happens to be serving drinks right behind him. He turns around and she smiles at him. Roderich smiles back, just as soon as she turns away.
Gilbert is hiding his fear behind a loud laugh and many mugs of beer. He lost his job long ago and still can't find a new one. With a large confident grin he faces the world as if he owns it. But Gilbert will never show the terror he's feeling about what happens next. He'll keep on laughing that loud laugh of his and saying he's awesome, whether the act is for him or others is a mystery. Gilbert notices my stare and grins at me, letting out a loud 'Kesesese' that almost over powers the piano itself.
"Shut up." Vash yells at the albino. Without another word he turns back to the bar top and slams his head on the counter.
Vash has a sister named Lili. Vash loves his sister more than anything in the world, even more then he would admit. Their parents died when they were very young and left Vash to protect and raise his sister. So, Vash is naturally extremely protective of his sweet and innocent sister and would gladly point his gun at anyone who even looked at her wrong. Unfortunately for him he just found out his sister is dating some boy. It took almost three hours for Lili to keep Vash from blowing the poor boys brains out. Right now he's trying to drown himself in anything that's cheap enough.
It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday. I scan the regulars and they look at me and smile. They order more drinks but I know what they're here for. They're not here for the cheep beer. No, they come here for something we all want, to forget about life for a while. So, with piano sounding like a carnival and the bar smelling like a beer they sit at the bar and they fade away to the place they all want to be. Francis walks up to the piano and puts a few dollars in my jar. He sends me a playful wink and a grin.
"Play us a song Piano Man." They say to me.
I smile and comply.
So I play you a song, I'm the piano man. I'll play you a song tonight. I'll play you a melody as long as you're in the mood, until you start feeling all right.