A/N: To Chris- as a matter of fact, there is a part coming soon where Ollie meets Louis. And they will butt heads because of their differences. Only wait, and that chapter will come.
Chapter 18: Regrets
-set during "Garbage Island"-
Ted asked me once what my last words with my dad were, after he got back to New York from Marshall's dad's funeral. He asked me this because the theme of Marvin's funeral was their last words with him. I regret entirely what my last words with my dad were. It doesn't matter if what I said was true or not. I just feel nothing but anger at myself for the things that I last said to him. That was almost 10 years ago.
That night in February, Carl called me and a few of the other staff members into the back room.
"Alright, gang. We got a little home movie to watch before we get back out there." He said when we were all gathered in the room.
Marshall stood beside Carl, silent. Poor guy. He didn't seem the same since his dad passed away.
"So guys, listen up. First off, Wendy isn't here tonight, so one of you needs to get her up to speed on what's happening now."
"What's this about, Carl?" Asked Austin, the busboy.
"Well, it took a lot of discussing with me, but Marshall here has gotten me thinking about this bar. We're starting a new green initiative program. We're going to look at recycling our empty cans and kegs when they're finished. So you'll all have new responsibilities on top of your first ones."
The others groaned, but I understood. I had recycled all the time back home, raised by my parents to do it. If that's what Carl believed we should do, then I was game for it.
Before going back out there, Marshall showed us a small clip of a documentary on this place called Garbage Island. Quite literally an island of garbage, twice the size of Texas. That meant a lot of cleaning up would have to be done to prevent it from getting bigger. Although I kept thinking that Marshall was going a little nuts if he was seriously thinking about doing this. This was probably a freak-out in the aftermath of his Dad's death. I understood that kind of freak-out more than anything, because I had one, too.
After the movie, I went up to Carl.
"Don't get me wrong, bro, but are we really doing this? I think it's just a bit of extra, unnecessary work."
"I know, Ollie. That's why this is only an idea. We'll see how this plays out for a while, and if things work out, then we'll make this a permanent thing. If not, then we'll have our own ways of getting this stuff taken care of without having our employees break their backs."
It wasn't until a few nights later when I saw Marshall again. Wendy walked past, scowling at him. I knew why: After I was the one who dropped the bombshell to her about the recycling, she injured herself taking the cans to the recycling center. My responsibilities included taking empty kegs either to the recycling center, or refilling them to be reused.
The cans piled up by the pound in bags that Wendy had to carry out onto the curb. She told me that it was harder than it seemed. I could tell she was right.
"Hey, Marshall." I said. He sat down.
"Hey, Ollie. Did you see the link I sent you?"
He had sent me the rest of the documentary of Garbage Island. We had only seen about 10 minutes of the whole thing that one night.
"Yeah. I for one think that Garbage Island is disgusting. I'm glad that Maclaren's is going green at your insistence. It's just like how I did it back home."
Marshall sighed. "Do you regret anything, Ollie?"
"What do you mean?"
"My last real conversation with my dad was him and I yelling up and down from the street to the window. I regret it not being anything personal with him. What about you? Do you regret anything?"
"Sure I do. When I was younger, I said...some things to my family. I could tell my Dad didn't want to see me for a long time after that. I regret saying those things to him, no matter if they may or may not be true."
Marshall looked down at the counter. "I miss my dad."
"Marshall, I got my own pain with death. My family was almost torn apart years ago after things happened. If anyone knows what you're going through, it's me. Death took people close to me, too. I just hope you can talk to me, or at least someone."
"I don't know, Ollie. I'm not one to socialize with strangers."
"You forget though: I'm no stranger. You're a loyal customer of mine, and I'm friends with Ted and Barney."
"Who in your family died?" He asked.
I shifted uncomfortably. I hated talking about it, because it disturbed me. Marshall understood as soon as he saw my face. He changed the subject.
"I just wish I was out there, saving the world, instead of working for the evil companies like GNB." He said.
"Hey, let's worry about helping GNB beat Zoey's protesting, then focus on stopping them."
"Hah. You really don't like her, don't you?."
"Marshall, I tagged the Arcadian just to piss her off. That say anything?"
"Hold on! That was you?!" He was on his feet.
Whoops. I should not have mentioned the tagging.
"Zoey's been complaining about the mystery taggers for months. All along it was you?! Why?!"
"Marshall, I trust you, despite us not knowing each other that well. So please keep this quiet from her."
Marshall groaned, but nodded hesitantly.
"It wasn't my idea. It was my best friend's idea. We wrote up anti-Arcadian propaganda with spray paint just to piss off Zoey. She's gonna resort to any means necessary to make sure that dump is protected. There was plenty of graffiti on the building even before my friend and I tagged it. And honestly, it wasn't that much."
"Wasn't that much?! Ollie, you just did it last week! And it was a lot! It covered the walls of one whole room."
That didn't sound right. I hadn't been to the Arcadian in months "No, we only tagged it once, for about an hour on one night a few months ago. And we spread out among the whole building. We didn't tag in only one room."
"Well someone is tagging the building in a manner similar to you. But you might be onto something in terms of trying to discourage Zoey to stop protesting. Just try something less, oh I don't know, crazy?"
"Will do. Here's to stopping Zoey." I said, realizing in that instant who tagged the Arcadian last week.
Marshall and I toasted, and he chugged back his beer. He then called over to Wendy.
"Hey, Wendy, can you take this out to the recycling?" He handed her his bottle.
Wendy responded by chucking it across the room, smashing it to bits. "This is bullshit!" She screamed. Everyone in the bar suddenly looked over at her in shock. "I've had to work overtime, getting the recycling finished because of you! You stupid bastard! Carl!"
Carl made his way into the bar area from the back, over to Wendy.
"Yeah, Wendy?"
"You know what?" She started pulling off her apron. "After having to endure all this shit about going green for the last week, I've had it! After I take these last two bags out onto the curb, I QUIT!" She shrieked.
I pushed up over the bar, and over to her. "Sorry to hear that, Wendy. I'll help you carry the bags."
Wendy calmed down a bit. "Thanks, Ollie. I could use the help."
Wendy and I started carrying the bags up the stairs. She was right in saying it was really hard: the bags weighed as much as a regular deer carcass.
"So you really going through with it?" I asked.
"Yeah, Ollie. Maclaren's isn't the place for me. I found a better job somewhere else. I've been considering leaving for a while now."
We dragged the bags up to the top step.
"Do me a favor, though, Ollie." She said.
"Anything."
"Look after this place for me. Carl may not know it, but I've seen it in your eyes. Even though you haven't worked here long, this place means a lot to you. You take good care of it."
I smiled. Wendy was one of the few who really knew how I felt about Maclaren's. In all the bad things that have happened in my life, Maclaren's is one thing that has stayed good, being my favorite place in the city. Even though I was only here for almost half a year, I still loved it. "You got it." I replied.
All of the sudden, one of the bags tore open, spilling bottles out onto the sidewalk. A man in a suit walked up from the street.
"Hi! Are you guys...?"
"Closed." She replied.
"I'll see you later, Wendy." I walked down the steps back into the bar.
I now regret not being there as long, when I heard that not long after quitting Maclaren's, Wendy ended up marrying that guy in the suit, whose name was Meeker. I can add that to the list of my regrets.
Later that night I took my phone out. I think that this night would be the one that I'd talk to him again. I punched in Dad's number. All I had to do was hit the call button. But I couldn't do it. What would I say? What would he say? I hadn't seen him in a decade. Why would I now? I couldn't face him yet. I hit the button, and cancelled the call.