O'Reilly's
Georgetown
2043 PM EST
"Excuse me, *excuse* me. Thank you so much," I mutter sarcastically as I do a pretty good two-step to try and make my way to the bar. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve as I slam my brown tray on the countertop. I lift up the leaf and duck under, grateful for the minute space to move.
I hate football season. Absolutely hate it. Adding to my dislike is the fact that the Redskins are playing the Seahawks *and* it rained, which means it's quarter to nine and the game's not over yet. The tips are good; the drunk, smelly men are not. Sometimes I wonder if I'm built for this anymore. I grab a dishtowel in one hand and a glass of water in the other, taking a few deep gulps as I wipe the excess condensation off the bar.
"Hey, do we serve water in this bar?" some loud thirty-ish man yells at me, much to the delight of his friends.
I roll my eyes; as cute as I thought the soundtrack to 'Coyote Ugly' was, that line will go down as the worst one ever. I turn around, hands on hips, and stare the guy down.
"Yes, we do, as a matter of fact," I say sweetly. "It's in short supply, however, so I'll have to charge you forty dollars for it."
He blinks a few times, says nothing, and turns back to the TV. I roll my eyes again and finish my water, dumping the glass in the bin under the bar. I rise, nearly knocking foreheads with the dumbass who's hanging over the edge, apparently trying to get my attention.
I
stumble back slightly, only to have the guy grab my arm to help me keep my
balance. I shrug him off, readjusting my rolled up sleeve.
"Sorry 'bout that, I thought I saw you fall," he says quickly,
yelling over the noise of a recovered fumble.
I shrug. "What can I get you?" I yell back, leaning my head next to his so I can hear his response.
"If I remember correctly, you have some damn good mudslides here." He turns his head to catch my eye, and I suddenly recognize him. He's an Australian man who was in here close to eight months ago, reeling from the rejection of the love of his life. I smile at him, and nod.
"Best ones this side of M Street," I reply. "So, what are you doing back in the States?" I call as I start to mix the drink and kick Jack in the shins.
He shrugs, resting his elbows on the bar and leaning towards me. "Had some business at the Australian Embassy. Went longer than I thought, so I pushed back my return flight till tomorrow. The hotel was getting oppressive, so I figured I'd come and visit my favorite bartender in the city."
I smile at him, handing him the tall iced glass. "Flattery will get you everywhere, except a free tab," I reply, shaking a finger at him.
He holds his hands up, grinning from ear to ear. The door opens again and I sigh mentally; we're so close to capacity, it's going to drive me insane. I go up on tiptoe to see who's come in, and have to smile wider.
It's the walking ad for happiness. He's got an arm slung over her shoulders, head bent, talking directly into her ear. She's smiling and shaking her head at him, her chocolate eyes sparkling with love for him. They're dressed rather nicely, much too nicely for my bar, but I just set about getting his Guinness and her tonic water with a twist of lime. As I grab the two glasses, I look up. They're trying to navigate the crowd, which is now going insane over a touchdown. Some guy high-fives the woman, who high-fives back, then looks back at her companion and laughs, as he's giving one of my drunk regulars the evilest eye I've ever seen.
They seat themselves further away from the TV, her taking the end stool and him standing next to her. I hold my index finger up to Mudslide Man and pick up the two drinks, making my way the twenty feet to the other end of the bar. "Welcome back, guys," I yell over the incessant noise, and she looks at me while he checks the score.
"Thanks," she replies, rather surprised. He looks down at me with a knowing smile in his eyes and gratefully takes the beer.
"Busy night, Keely?" he asks, motioning to the crowd.
"What, this? Nah, it's like this every night. They all come to see my pretty face," I reply, smiling.
She looks like she's going to add something, but stops short, instead leaning around me to look up the bar. "Good God," she whispers, going white.
I turn around and crane my neck, trying to see what she's looking at, but failing. I look back at the two of them. He looks like he's seen it too, and now they're simply looking at each other, having a conversation with their eyes. I look back over my shoulder, trying desperately to figure out what the hell's going on.
As I'm straining to look, I hear the Australian's voice behind me. I turn back, and he's standing almost toe to toe with Mr. Perfect, with Ms. Perfect looking in her drink, as if trying to collect her thoughts and think of something to say.
"Rabb." The Australian man says, then leans slightly around him to address the woman. "Hello, Sarah."
She raises her head and smiles at him. "Hello, Mic." She pauses, taking a split second to run her left hand up and down her companion's back. "What brings you back to DC?"
Mic shrugs, looking at the game for a minute before replying. "Had some business to attend to."
She nods, and nothing else is said for a minute. "So, how are you?" she asks softly, and 'Rabb', Mic and I have to lean in to hear her.
I suddenly realize how obvious I'm being, and decide to scoot down a little bit and pretend I have other things to do than eavesdrop. By the grace of God, the game's finally over, and I say a silent prayer of thanks that the Redskins actually won; that way I have happy patrons and more tips.
Luckily for me, the register is down by the threesome. I love killing two birds with one stone.
Rabb's moved out of Mic's way, allowing him to speak face to face with Sarah. He's still a presence, obviously, standing right behind her, but he's pretending to be interested in the post-game show instead of their conversation.
"I've been well, thanks," Mic replies, putting his hands in his pockets.
"That's good to hear, Mic," Sarah replies, and I can see she's trying not to look up at her companion.
Mic nods and then looks at Rabb. "How are you, Harm?"
Harm? Where the hell do they come up with these names?
Harm looks at him, his jaw set tightly. He takes a deep breath and attempts to relax. "Fine, thank you."
Mic nods again, this time looking at his feet. "I don't suppose I could have a word with Sarah alone," he finally says. Harm begins to protest, but this time Sarah does look up at him, and she nods. "I don't think a minute would be such a bad thing," she says. Harm looks from her to Mic and finally nods himself, walking and sitting directly in front of me. He's far enough away that he's giving her the space she needs, but close enough to be a menacing presence.
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the bar clears out after a game. Within five minutes, there are only a handful of people left in O'Reilly's. I pick up the dirty glass bin and start making the rounds, conveniently starting with the tables closest to Mic and Sarah.
Hey, I never said I wasn't nosy.
"Are you really doing well, Sarah?" Mic asks quietly. He's turned so he's facing her profile, as she's still studiously staring at her glass.
Finally, she raises her head to look him straight in the eye. "Yes, I am, Mic."
He nods again, looking over in my direction. Of course, I've ducked my head by the time he might see me looking, so he just turns his attentions back to her. "That's good to know," he pauses, searching for the right words. "I wasn't, for a long time, you know." When she begins to protest, he holds up his hand, mimicking the action he did to me earlier. "I didn't say that to hurt you. I guess…I just want to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions."
She places a hand on his right arm. "I do, Mic," she replies with vehemence. "I admit I…I didn't at the time. But things have happened over the past year that have *made* me understand the pain I put you in, and for that, I apologize from the bottom of my heart." She shakes her head. "I never meant to hurt you."
"I believe that, Sarah," he replies quietly. He motions with his chin in Harm's direction. "He treating you all right?"
She smiles broadly, and I remember her doing the same thing months ago when he walked in the bar. "Yeah, he's treating me just fine."
"He'd better be," Mic says, an intense stare now focused on Sarah.
Sarah meets his gaze and squeezes his bicep, as her hand had never moved. "Mic," she begins, "I know that whatever I say here tonight isn't going to change the way you regard me, and the ill feelings you might have towards me." She too holds up her hand when he goes to interrupt her. "Let me finish, all right? Any woman would be lucky to have you in her life. I count you as one of my blessings simply because you were the first person in a long time who actually gave a damn, and who proved to me that I was worth something as a *woman*, not just some Marine Colonel."
Mic looks like a little lost boy when he finally interjects. "So what did I do wrong?"
Sarah sighs, playing in her puddle. "It sounds stupid, but it wasn't you. It was me. You gave me the world on a silver platter. But I just felt wrong taking it…for every reason you gave me to love you, there was just that nagging knowledge that there was one you couldn't, no matter how hard you tried."
"I wasn't him." Mic finishes, his shoulders slumping.
Sarah shrugs, lifting her eyes to meet his. "I'm so sorry, Mic."
He shrugs along with her, watching the seriously delayed ten o'clock news for a minute. "He doesn't deserve you."
"Nor I him," she offers, a slight smile.
He looks at her for another minute, raising a finger to trace her cheekbone. At this point, I just plop myself in a booth and watch unabashedly. This is better than General Hospital any day.
I can see out of the corner of my eye that Harm's about ready to jump up and throttle Mic, but I can also see that unless Sarah needs his help, he's going to remain in his seat like a good boy. Sarah's offering Mic another small smile as he says, "You're happy."
"Yes," she whispers. "Very."
Mic nods again, biting the inside of his cheek. "You know I'm always here for you."
Sarah smiles wider this time, raising her hand to clasp his as it rests on her cheek. "I know that, and thank you. And if you ever need anything…"
He shakes his head. "I needed you, Sarah, but unfortunately, I came in second."
She looks like she might cry, but simply sets her jaw. "A very, very close second, Mic. And my loss is some other lucky woman's gain."
"There will be no other," he says sadly, looking at Harm. "There better not be for him, either, or I'll be back up here in a bloody second."
She laughs at this and
nods. "You and I can beat him to a pulp together."
He laughs slightly as well, then drops his hand. "You take care of yourself, you hear me, Marine?"
She salutes him, eyes bright. "Absolutely. You, too."
He salutes back, then offers his hand. She takes it, shaking it firmly, lingering a little longer. I guess maybe she's trying to convince herself he understands.
She's a good actress. He's a better actor.
He offers another slight smile and then turns on his heel. He drops a five-dollar bill near his glass, which happens to be right next to Harm. Mic leans over and picks up his coat, simply saying, "Hurt her and I'll be back."
Harm looks up at him and nods. "Thank you for understanding, Mic."
Mic puts on his coat and shakes his head. "I never said anything about understanding, Rabb. I will always love Sarah, but it's because I do that I won't interfere. Love isn't about declaring it out loud, it's about showing it through your actions."
Harm looks down at his hands, nodding. Mic cuffs him on the back and then turns on his heel, leaving.
Well, damn.
I let out a deep breath and quickly gather the rest of the glasses on the right side of the bar, then move back to wipe off the tables as Harm joins Sarah. Her eyes are closed, head downcast, but a simple hand on her shoulder brings back the smile. She shrugs as he sits down. "Necessary evils, I guess."
He nods understandingly. "You want to get out of here?"
She nods gratefully. She turns and slides off the stool, giving him a nice glimpse of her leg. He smiles wider and shakes his head. "You're terrible," I can see him murmur and she simply shrugs.
"And you owe me a foot rub when we get home. I told you these shoes were far too uncomfortable."
Harm turns and looks at me. "We're heading out, Keely."
I raise my dishrag in salute. "I'll see you guys next Monday!" I reply and they both laugh. He drops a bill on the bar as they leave, and I sigh. I could use a foot rub right about now.
I gather up the last of the dishes and dump them in the sink, running the hot water to begin washing. I switch off the TV and turn on the boom box under the bar, and begin singing along.
"It may be a long shot, it may get lonely down the line, but love knows no reason, and I won't let it make up my mind," I sing as I add the Dawn. "My money's riding on this dark horse, baby. My heart's saying it's the lucky one…"
Jack applauds and I groan. "I told you I'd get you to sing for me," he gloats and I throw soap at him. "Shut up," I retort, focusing my energies on washing so I can get home.
He picks up the drink list for tomorrow and motions to me. "What are the specials?"
I let out a breath and shrug. "I don't know, make something up."
He nods thoughtfully and then begins to write. I don't think I've ever closed up shop this fast in my entire life. Proud, I walk back behind the bar and lock the register.
"So, how are our Navy friends?" Jack asks, peering over the top of the board.
I shrug, then shake my head. "Not as perfect as originally thought."
He smirks at this, finishing his writing. "No one is, Keel."
"Whatever." I slip off my apron and hang it on the coat rack. "You ready?"
He takes one look at the board and nods. Rising from the bar, he hangs it back in its spot and puts on his coat. "Let's rock and roll."
"Jack, my dad's the only person that says that," I admonish. As I go to switch off the lights, I look back and notice that in my rush, I missed a glass. "Damn," I mutter. Walking back over, I realize it's the Australian's, still half-full. I shake my head as I lean over and place the mug in the sink. I wonder to myself how Sarah deals every day, knowing she hurt someone that badly.
Although, with a boyfriend - and a love - like hers, I don't think it's that bad.
"If only all of us were that lucky," I say quietly as I put on my coat.
This time, I move to the door and turn off the lights, but not before I notice the drink specials for tomorrow.
The regulars are listed, but then, written so small underneath them, and much more carefully than he ever does it, is 'Gaelic Storm Brew'.
I shoot a look at Jack, who simply shrugs.
"Maybe all of us *are* that lucky," he replies, walking ahead of me as I lock up.
I look curiously at his retreating back and shrug. We part ways and I start the long walk along the river towards the GW/Foggy Bottom metro. As I walk along the Potomac and approach the Kennedy Center, I see a lone figure on the boardwalk, slouched over, head in hands. I slow my approach when the man looks up at the sky, and I recognize him as my Australian Mudslide Man.
I cock my head and watch him. His cheeks are glistening from the tears evident in his eyes. Suddenly, he turns and looks at me, but makes no move to hastily wipe away any trace of emotion, as most men would do. I offer a sympathetic smile and walk up to him, stuffing my hands in my coat pockets. "I didn't mean to intrude."
He shrugs, moving over on the bench, allowing me to sit down.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I offer gently. "I know we don't know each other, but sometimes it helps to just randomly talk to someone."
He turns his head to me, and I meet his intense stare. Finally, he hangs his head again and shrugs again. "Nothing really to talk about. I guess I was just questioning the world."
I smile slightly and wait for him to continue.
"It was good to see her again," he begins, trying to put on a brave front. "But I still just want to shake her and ask, 'Why? Why lead me on like you did, just to take my heart and stomp on it for fun?'?" He looks at me again, straightening against the back of the bench. "I'm not really mad, per se, just hurt."
I nod. "Understandable."
He nods as well, sighing loudly. "Do you think it ever stops hurting?"
I shake my head. "No. But that which does not destroy us makes us stronger."
He smiles. "Nietzsche."
I shrug. "I take four literature classes a semester."
He looks out over the water and then rises, offering me a hand as well. "Thanks, Keely," he says quietly, and it's my turn to shrug.
"Anytime you need anything, you come see me. Mudslides are on the house."
He smiles again. "Can I escort you home?"
Always the gentleman, even in the face of adversity. I shake my head. "I'm a big girl, I can get there, thank you."
He nods and then motions to his watch. I nod, and he begins to walk away. I watch him retreat into the DC night, hoping he'll find some kind of solace.
THE END
