Local Pub

Local Pub - about 6 pm

The place was already crowded. Logan enjoyed the last faint taste of the meal he just had in his mouth, sitting inmidst the cramped and loud room. He deeply soaked in the atmosphere. This was the exact opposite of sitting alone in his penthouse, staring out the big window down on the city of Seattle. Here he was in the middle of the current, in a quite small place, having the perspective from the bottom, so to speak. Everybody was nice to him, they just smiled encouraging and had small talk, nobody offended him, nobody glared at him, nobody cursed at him. He could just sit there in his wheelchair, being a huge obstacle for everyone who tried to get to the bathrooms, but it was all right. Nobody complained, they just climbed somehow or pushed themselves through beneath him, nobody reacted awkwardly. Logan loved the mentality of those kind people. Here, he finally could be at ease with himself, in spite of everything.

Logan was sipping at his beer as he watched Max slipping out of the pub. She wanted to check out some errands for the research, and they agreed, that he was better off waiting at the pub for her to accomplish. A man in a wheelchair on the neighbourhood-sites would provoke suspicion. As far as he knew, there were not a lot of people in wheelchairs at his age around the village, probably no one. He could not help the advertence he provoked, so he had to lay low and play his cover role along. Anyway, he considered his part as better, he could sit inside warm and dry, drink beer and enjoy himself, not that bad, considering. A shudder creeped down his spine up to the point where he couldn't feel it anymore as he thought of Max being outside in the drizzling rain with the flawy slightly cold air.

Still watching the entrance, Logan's attention suddenly was drawn by a man entering the pub while clinging to another man's arm. That was odd. The next moment, Logan saw the white cane and he realized that the man would be blind. Logan blatantly watched the other man, who didn't seem to fit into this setting at all. His appearance was distinguished, cultivated, secretive and not at all Irish, Logan couldn't quite put him anywhere, but would rather think that he was an American. He was definitely not English, as far as he could tell. All red alarm flags popped up inside him. If this was an American, why was he here? Were they on his trail already? Who sent him? Logan threw a short gaze at the man besides the American. That man looked like a local Irish, gentle, open-hearted and fond of alcohol, at first sight. It was clear that he had to learn more about this literally strange stranger, who now proceeded to sip at his first beer. It would not be too hard, though. He saw, that the curiosity of many local people around him concerning that stranger awoke aswell, it would be the gossip of the following day. Logan smiled to himself. Sometimes, small villages had undeniable advantages to big anonymous cities.

The damp steam, scenting as a mixture of sweat, alcohol, beans and potatoes, ancient cigarette smoke and the smoke of a turf fireplace, hit Auggie when he entered the pub. Initially, he hesitated to step further in, but then forced himself to it. There was no way to avoid the pub. And anyway, he badly needed a good european irish beer for a load of reasons. It had been a long dusty day for him, he simply deserved it. With a sigh, he followed Kieran inside, who led the way through the crowd until they arrived at the bar-counter.

Auggie felt the curious looks on him. It was always like a million small needles stinging on his skin, and he knew that he could do nothing about it. He felt, how the heat crept up his head and he knew that his ears by now had reddened profoundly. What the hell. He tried to concentrate at the taste of the beer and to start a conversation with Kieran, but that was not easy, considering the noise intensity of the pub. Many voices, clinging beer-pints, somebody of the music band trying to adjust the fiddle properly, the ping ring of the counter cash register, it all mixed up. And Kieran seemed to meet people in an endless row. As a local, he greeted a lot and had small talk with them. Auggie gave up. No point. He was already exhausted enough and this was pure stress for his ears, which were now more important to him than ever. He just held with both hands to his pint and sipped, trying to keep himself upright and the surroundings out. But turning inwardly, the grieving for his lost relation with Annie began instantly to gnaw at him. Auggie tried to focus on his beer in his hands and not to think at all and not to hear the surroundings. He nearly succeeded, only the headache pulsed at his forehead. Why would anybody enjoy himself in this damp, crowded and loud place, he wondered. He felt quite uncomfortable, but he had to deal with it now, and he would survive it. At least, he still was a virtue operative with a decent amount of acting skills.

Logan glanced towards the stranger every couple of minutes, taking in his appearance. He sensed that the stranger must feel very uncomfortable, for he was holding his pint as if it was a life rope. The stranger just sipped and stared, he didn't speak to anyone, which was very unusual in this pub. But then, Logan thought that he would perhaps behave the same way in a loud strange place, considering the blindness of the man. Logan felt pity for this misplaced unhappy man and had an urge inside him to get near him and speak to him or lead him out. But he knew it would do no good for his mission. He had to lay low. And he felt caught by himself for his pity. Pity was something he absolutely rejected, if shown towards him, and he never wanted to feel pity towards somebody else. Shaking his head about himself, he asked his table-neighbour if he could bring him another pint, he wanted to pay the round. Then he concentrated again on the talk at the table. One of the local plumbers told the story of a funny client and soon everybody at the table could contribute a similar piece of story about clients, family members or neighbours. The evening went on quite diverting until the band began to play. Logan had never been part of that. Sure, he had been to concerts of bands before and after the pulse back in Seattle and elsewhere in USA, but this was different. It was not a concert. It was just that the band played a tune and literally everybody was a part of it. And everybody chose his or her manner of taking part. Logan saw people clinging two teaspoons together as a percussion instrument, others singing or trying to dance in that packed room or clapping their hands to the rhythm. It was amazing, they created something bigger than a small band or each of them could have done on its own. There was a transcendent community, created by music. Everybody was equal and a part of it, everybody was accepted as he was, no matter how. Logan felt slightly tingly and it had been a long time since he had felt something similar.

As the band began to play, Auggie had the urge to escape. He only wanted out of the sticky room and into the free space. But what he needed most was silence. The noises and now as a supplement the music was too much for his sensible ears, plus every now and then people bellowed far too near him. He tipped at the shoulder of what he hoped was Kieran, to gain his attention. It worked, Kieran shouted: "What's the matter?" - Auggie shouted back: "Can we go home?" Kieran watched Auggie puzzled. - "Now? The band just began!", he shouted back. But Auggie insisted that he wanted to go home. Kieran gave in, regretting the fine night gig, now lost on him.

At the car, Kieran asked Auggie what that was all about. "Nobody goes home when the band begins. Really!" He shook his head in lack of understanding. But Auggie was too exhausted to explain, besides he didn't want the other man know something about him and Annie. So he mumbled the word "headache" and kept silent the rest of the way.