A Memory of 1886
Hunched over the bar alone with his elbows on the counter, Arthur thumbed the rim of only his second shot of whiskey. He looked up as the waitress wiped the counter in front of him. He rested the knuckles of his other hand against his temple. "What's your name?" he said.
"Eliza," she answered.
"Eliza…" he said. "That's a nice name."
"Don't think I've seen you in here before," she said.
"No, you wouldn't have. I'm not from…around here."
"In town long?"
He shook his head. "Just for the night. Back on the road tomorrow."
"What is it you do, mister?"
He threw back the shot and set it on the counter, then returned to the stein of stout he had nearby. "That's privileged information."
"Ah," she smiled. "Well, you don't look like a farmer or ranch hand," she said sizing him up, "and you're certainly not the professional type. So judging by that iron on your hip, that leaves either some kind of a law man, or an outside-of-the-law man."
He squinted at her. "You're a perceptive one, I'll give you that. Very sharp kid. I'll leave you to decide which it is." As she bent for something under the counter, he took another sip and said, "Although, sometimes, they're not so clear-cut, you know. Sometimes, the two kinda blend together."
"Ah, so outlaw it is then," she said smiling brightly as she came back up.
His brows scrunched together for a moment in frustration at having given himself away, then he grumbled and went back to his drink.
She grinned at his reaction to her ability to peg him perfectly. "Don't worry," she chuckled. "I won't tell anyone, mister. Your not-so-secret is safe with me."
"Aw, you don't got a nice beau you can tell so he can come in here and try to whoop my ass?" he said taking another swig.
She laughed. "No. No beau," she said quietly.
"Oh. Too bad," he said looking off into distance. "I might've enjoyed whoopin' his ass." He looked back at her with a quick wink.
She smiled and shook her head as she continued wiping the countertop.
"You don't have to call me mister, by the way. Name's Arthur," he said, sipping from his stein as she smiled in response. He eyed the way a few messy strands of her light dirty blonde hair fell out of her bun and into her face as she worked. "So what's a young kid like you doin' workin' in a place like this?"
"I'm not so very young. Nineteen," she said with a smirk and a dip of her chin as she took his empty shot glasses. "Oh," she sighed, "I shouldn't be here."
"What, is this not your shift?"
"No, no, I mean, I shouldn't be stuck in this position, workin' in this saloon," she said, sadness and frustration edging her tone.
He raised the stein and pressed the cool glass to his right temple as he listened to her.
"This is not the way my life was supposed to turn out," she said. "I had big plans: dreams of going to college," she smiled, "studyin' somethin'. Maybe music so I could be a grand singer, or literature so I could teach all them books. Or maybe medicine so I could become a nurse." Her smile slowly fell. "But—"
"Fall on hard times?"
She nodded and looked down.
"Ain't we all," he said as he took another drink from his glass. "Where are your parents?" he asked.
"Dead and gone," she said. "Just last year."
"Mm. Sorry to hear that," he said. "So you're on your own. Now I understand why you're workin' here."
"Just doing what I can to get by," she said. "Turns out I ain't half bad at that."
He watched her as she wiped the counter furiously, in pursuit of a shine he was sure would never be there. "No," he said on the tail-end of a sigh, "you ain't like any other waitress, are you?" He raised the stein up to his mouth.
She scoffed. "Do you always speak your thoughts aloud when you're drunk?"
"You should hear me when I'm sober. And I ain't awfully drunk. Not yet, anyway. I plan to have still another of these after this one." He took a gulp and set the stein back down. "Naw, it ain't a bad thing," he said raising his eyebrows as he got back to the subject. "Every waitress I've ever come across has her bosoms half spillin' out and only wants to get in your pants, both pockets and…otherwise."
"Oh, god," she said. "You really are sober."
"Darlin', I just paid you a compliment," he said matter-of-factly. "Learn to know one when you get one."
"I'll try to remember that," she laughed. "Very nice meetin' you, Arthur," she smiled, her eyes bright.
"Yeah," he said hazily as he sat up to watch her walk away. "Nice meetin' you too." He turned back to his stout. After a moment, he quickly downed the dregs and followed in the direction she'd gone.