the ring, is a memory I will never forget. She started shaking and fidgeting more, unable to stand in one spot. I smiled at her and asked, “Susan, will you marry me?”
Her other hand went to her mouth as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She nodded her head vigorously and said, “Yes” in a soft voice.
I stood up and gathered her in my arms. She wrapped her hands around my neck and her legs around my waist and I carried her to the bed.
I shake myself out of the memory spotting the next exit, Mount Vernon. I really need a drink right now. My heart aches from thinking about her. I glance at the time on the dash, 2:00. Steering the car to the exit ramp, I find myself surrounded by fields of dull brown grasses in all directions. I stop at a single stoplight and notice the road extends with a sign pointing to the North for a Mount Vernon place. The light turns green and I head toward this town, hoping for a bar that will be open this early in the day. The two lane road quickly turns to four lanes in a short stretch that must be the town. This is like night and day from Dallas. Halfway through the two mile town, I find a bar with wide white letters across the front displaying, The Ugly Duckling. Next to it is the sorriest looking florescent green duck I have ever seen. This seems as good a place as any. I pull in to the fairly large parking lot noting not many cars are here.
I approach the double wooden doors, reaching out to the one on the right. As I’m pulling the door open, a man comes stumbling out of the bar running into me. He rests both of his hands on my shoulders leaning forward, grumbling, “Sorry man.”
His breath is horrid, stinking of beer and cigarettes. I turn my head trying to avoid it. He stumbles farther out, removing his hands while another man comes out of the door I’m holding open. He yells after the man, “Tommy, go get a job.”
He turns to me and apologizes, “Sorry about that. Sometimes the regulars cause trouble.”
I nod and follow him as he turns to head back in. The lighting is dim and smoky even though there are only three people sitting at the bar. The man from the door comes to face me from behind the bar and asks placing a coaster down in front of me, “What can I get ya?”
He is tall and skinny. When he speaks, it’s apparent one of his incisor teeth is missing. His hair is long and scraggly but he is clean shaven. His black t-shirt displays the same letters and awful duck as the sign outside.
“Just a couple of beers, anything you have on tap will be fine.”
I glance around as he turns to get my beer. A few seats down are two men probably in their late sixties sitting and smoking. Both seem disheveled and weary. To my right is another man, this one is unshaven and badly needs a haircut. His skin is tanned as if he’s spent a lot of time out in the sun.
The bartender comes up, setting the mugs down in front of me. He holds out his hand introducing himself, “Hi, I’m Gabe. You’re not from around here, are you?”
I shake my head and smirk while taking a swig.
He leans on the bar obviously intrigued by his discovery and asks, “What brings you to this shit hole?”
I’m a little surprised at his bluntness. He doesn’t know me from anyone else. I was hoping to get peace and here this guy is trying to have a conversation with me.
“Just getting away.”
He walks off, checking on the two men at the end of the bar. I finish one beer and start on the other. I’d really like something a little stronger but it’s early in the afternoon. Wallowing in my pity, I look around the room. It’s really nothing special. A stage spans one wall with posters promoting bands and drink specials. The chairs and tables strategically placed before the stage are well worn wooden ones. All the walls are wood paneling with the exception of the wall behind the bar. It seems to be made of brick, definitely an old establishment. I would imagine most of the buildings around here are.
Her other hand went to her mouth as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She nodded her head vigorously and said, “Yes” in a soft voice.
I stood up and gathered her in my arms. She wrapped her hands around my neck and her legs around my waist and I carried her to the bed.
I shake myself out of the memory spotting the next exit, Mount Vernon. I really need a drink right now. My heart aches from thinking about her. I glance at the time on the dash, 2:00. Steering the car to the exit ramp, I find myself surrounded by fields of dull brown grasses in all directions. I stop at a single stoplight and notice the road extends with a sign pointing to the North for a Mount Vernon place. The light turns green and I head toward this town, hoping for a bar that will be open this early in the day. The two lane road quickly turns to four lanes in a short stretch that must be the town. This is like night and day from Dallas. Halfway through the two mile town, I find a bar with wide white letters across the front displaying, The Ugly Duckling. Next to it is the sorriest looking florescent green duck I have ever seen. This seems as good a place as any. I pull in to the fairly large parking lot noting not many cars are here.
I approach the double wooden doors, reaching out to the one on the right. As I’m pulling the door open, a man comes stumbling out of the bar running into me. He rests both of his hands on my shoulders leaning forward, grumbling, “Sorry man.”
His breath is horrid, stinking of beer and cigarettes. I turn my head trying to avoid it. He stumbles farther out, removing his hands while another man comes out of the door I’m holding open. He yells after the man, “Tommy, go get a job.”
He turns to me and apologizes, “Sorry about that. Sometimes the regulars cause trouble.”
I nod and follow him as he turns to head back in. The lighting is dim and smoky even though there are only three people sitting at the bar. The man from the door comes to face me from behind the bar and asks placing a coaster down in front of me, “What can I get ya?”
He is tall and skinny. When he speaks, it’s apparent one of his incisor teeth is missing. His hair is long and scraggly but he is clean shaven. His black t-shirt displays the same letters and awful duck as the sign outside.
“Just a couple of beers, anything you have on tap will be fine.”
I glance around as he turns to get my beer. A few seats down are two men probably in their late sixties sitting and smoking. Both seem disheveled and weary. To my right is another man, this one is unshaven and badly needs a haircut. His skin is tanned as if he’s spent a lot of time out in the sun.
The bartender comes up, setting the mugs down in front of me. He holds out his hand introducing himself, “Hi, I’m Gabe. You’re not from around here, are you?”
I shake my head and smirk while taking a swig.
He leans on the bar obviously intrigued by his discovery and asks, “What brings you to this shit hole?”
I’m a little surprised at his bluntness. He doesn’t know me from anyone else. I was hoping to get peace and here this guy is trying to have a conversation with me.
“Just getting away.”
He walks off, checking on the two men at the end of the bar. I finish one beer and start on the other. I’d really like something a little stronger but it’s early in the afternoon. Wallowing in my pity, I look around the room. It’s really nothing special. A stage spans one wall with posters promoting bands and drink specials. The chairs and tables strategically placed before the stage are well worn wooden ones. All the walls are wood paneling with the exception of the wall behind the bar. It seems to be made of brick, definitely an old establishment. I would imagine most of the buildings around here are.
Similar Books
