Disclaimer: Sawyer, Kate, and Jack don't belong to me. Although I'd say otherwise about Sawyer Ahem Whispers: He's in my closet. Also, the song, I Hate Everything is sung by George Strait.
Rating: PG. Everything looks kid friendly to me, although they're at a bar . . .
Note: First songfic I have ever tried my entire life (probably why it sucks). So, please take that into consideration if you notice how horrible it is. Please read and review though, please!
'I shouldn't have shouted at her . . . shouldn't, shouldn't have shouted. Dammit,' I muttered to myself as I drove down the road.
I, Frank Bryant have just had the worst day of my life. My job at the car dealership had just went out the window. The business hadn't been doing well in that part of town for several months now. I thought it would pick back up again, but who was I kidding? Today my boss of five years told me that he was letting me go. Just like that. Without a paycheck either. The place was going to close down at the end of the month. The other car place about 5 miles up the road was putting us out of business.
When I had gotten home and told my wife the news, she had been hysterical. She knew we weren't doing so good in the money department and she just fell to pieces. I had been mad to start off with, but her breakdown pushed me over the edge. I got mad at her, shouted a few things I wished I hadn't. She had shouted back and we had a big row.
Now I'm driving down the road, all my anger steaming out of me like a deflating balloon. I had left without a backwards glance at her, knowing I had to get away and go somewhere. I wasn't aware that I had put my blinker on and had turned into the local bar's parking lot until I had my car in park. I looked around and smiled. This place had become an old friend of mine for many troubling nights. I turned off the car and the lights. I got out and locked the car, walking up to the bar entrance.
I entered the bar and walked into the familiar haze of cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol. There were a few people sitting at the tables, drinks, smokes, or both in their hands. Some were playing pool off to the left. The local band was setting up their equipment at the 'stage' area that was really just a space cleared away with a lot of outlets for them to plug things in. There was some guy standing in front of the jukebox, his pick of some country love song wailing in the background. I made my way to the bar table and saw that someone was sitting beside the seat I always accommodated. I sat down and the bartender, a pretty blonde named Tonya, walked over to me.
'What'll it be, Frank?' she asked me.
'The usual,' I said, which meant a Bud Light with a side of whiskey.
'Got it comin' right up,' Tonya said as she walked off, her short, white tank top showing her back between the bottom of the shirt and her jeans.
I looked around and saw the guy sitting beside me. He had long, almost shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair that looked like it was graying around the edges. He was in a suit, but his shirt underneath was un-tucked and he had the sleeves rolled up and the tie loosened. There was an almost empty whiskey bottle in front of him. He had a shot glass in his hand. He stared at the glass and then raised it to his lips, throwing back his head as he drained it. He emptied the whiskey bottle into the shot glass and drained it again. Tonya was making her way back with my drink.
'Anything else?' she asked.
'No, thanks,' I said, looking down at my drink and then back at the guy.
Tonya nodded and turned to the man. 'How 'bout it, Mr. Sawyer? Anything for you?'
'I need another,' the man named Sawyer said in a gravely voice.
'Comin' up,' Tonya said as she took the whiskey bottle and went to get another one.
He was sitting there beside meThrowin' doubles down when he ordered up his third one
He looked around, then he looked at me
And said, 'I do believe I oughta have one more.'
He said, 'I hate this bar and I hate to drink,
but on a second thought, tonight I hate everything.'
I didn't know what to say. The man had just opened up to me for no reason. I just looked at him, his greenish-blue eyes looking at me with a clouded look in them. Tonya came back before I could say anything. She put his whiskey bottle down in front of him.
Then he opened up his billfold and threw a 20 down
And a faded photograph fell out and hit the ground
And I picked it up. He said, Thank ya bud.'
I put it in his hand. He said, 'I probably oughta throw
this one away, 'cause she's the reason I feel this way.
I hate everything.'
Sawyer didn't know why the hell he was opening up to this guy like he was a family member, nor why he told the bartender his 'name'. He didn't even know the guy or the bartender, except that their names were Frank and Tonya. He had to tell someone though, had to get it off his chest. Ever since he had gotten off that godforsaken island, he had always confided in Kate, told her everything, even his past. But now, ever since Kate left, he hadn't been the same anymore. He had once been a changed man, with Kate by his side. Now he had strayed back to his old ways. He didn't even recognize himself in the mirror anymore. He looked down at the faded photo in his hand, at the picture of him and Kate, and remembered old times. She was in his arms in the picture, laughing. He had his head resting on her shoulder, smiling that dimpled smile of his that used to drive her crazy. He felt tears brimming in his eyes, but he brushed them away hastily. He put their picture back in his billfold with a shaking hand and put it in his back pocket. He turned and looked at the man named Frank again and sighed.
'Well, I hate my job, and I hate my life.
And if it weren't for my two kids, I'd hate my ex-wife.
I know I should more on and try to start again,
but I just can't get over her leaving me for him.'
Then he shook his head and looked down at his ring
And he said, 'I hate everything.'
The man named Sawyer looked back up at me and laughed softly.
'Stupid Jackass, stole her from me,' he said, shaking his head again and looking down at his feet.
'I'm sorry,' I said lamely, not knowing what else to say.
'No, no. I don't want your pity. Just . . . just let me finish,' he said, putting up a hand and looking back up at me.
He said, 'That one bedroom apartment where I get my mail,
is really not a home, it's more like a jail,
with a swimming pool and a parking lot view. Man, it's just great!'
He laughed again, a hollow laugh.
'Lemme ask you somethin', Frank. You're married, right?' Sawyer asked me.
'Yes, have been for six years,' I said, not sure where he was going with this.
'You love her? So much that it hurts and you'd die for her?' Sawyer asked.
'Without a doubt,' I answered automatically, my heart dropping as I remember our fight.
'Don't you let her go, ya hear? Whatever happens, don't let her go. Unless you wanna end up like. And I wouldn't condemn the Devil himself to the life I'm livin',' Sawyer said, his voice breaking and a pained look in his eyes.
'I won't,' I promised as I continued to stare at him.
'Good. Don't end up like me,' Sawyer said.
'I hate summer, winter, fall, and spring.
Red and yellow, purple, blue, and green.
I hate everything.
I hate my job, and I hate my life.
And if it weren't for my two kids, I'd hate my ex-wife.
I know I should move on and try to start again,
but I just can't get over her leaving me for him.'
Then he shook his head and looked down at his ring,
and said, 'I hate everything.'
'Ah, hell, why am I botherin' you with my troubles?' he asked as he turned back to his drink.
'You aren't a bother at all,' I assured him.
'Yeah, well, go on and get outta here. Bar's no place for good folks,' he said as he filled his shot glass again.
I didn't argue with him, but just looked at him, a determined look gleaming in my eyes.
So I pulled out my phone and I called my house.
I said, 'Babe, I'm coming home. We're gonna work this out.'
I paid for his drinks and I told him, 'Thanks!
Thanks for everything . . .'