"So what's your story?"

 

I turned around and the bartender was staring right into my face. She had deep brown eyes, dark skin, and kinky black hair.

 

"What do you mean?"
"You asked if I wanted to hear your story."
"I was just joking," I said. "Like everyone wants to tell you their story."
She wrinkled her nose up.
"I mean I have stories," I said. "Just not one."

 

She walked away. I took a big gulp of my beer. Fuck it. The brain cracks grew. I needed sleep but I couldn't face waking up so I had to keep going. I'd broken up with my girlfriend four months earlier and taken an office job at a non-profit that I should have known would suck. All I could think about was how I had been making the same fucking mistakes over and over again for ten years and couldn't get out of the cycle. It was like being in a washing machine with no soap and no drain spout, just mixed-up diluted shit all over everything. My mind had lost touch with the real. I wanted everything and nothing. When I saw a beautiful woman I wanted to marry her and go to the mountains. When I saw a blues singer, I wanted to lock myself in a hotel room until I had learned to play like Lightning Hopkins. When I saw Bobbie, I wanted to be Bobbie. When I saw the Chief, I wanted to be the Chief. I wanted to be anything in the whole fucking world except me and I had no good reason for feeling that way.

 

I could hear my friend Antoine talking in my ear, "What's the deal dude? You're white, young, and educated. What the fuck else you want, a castle?"
He had a point. A castle wouldn't be half bad though, with a moat and tapestries and those skinny little windows you can shoot out of. As long as I could have a kind of picture window in the back to look up at the mountains from in the mornings, and a little porch for coffee and reading. The truth is I didn't know what the fuck I wanted.

 

"What's your name?"
She was back. I was stupid and she was back.
"Henry," I said.
"I'm Meleesa."
"Melissa, nice to meet you."
"Meleeeesa."

 

We shook hands formally and she was gone again, moving with mind-numbing speed. The beer made me giggle. I liked her comings and goings. My ears adjusted to the music and my eyes to the dark. The night was beginning again. Bring on the fucking night, I thought. Meleeesa. Press your lips together, mmm, push your tongue against the back of your teeth, leee, flick and breathe out, saa. Bobby came upstairs and sat down next to me. The way he sat down at the bar and put his elbows up and spoke to me without looking made it look like we'd been friends for twenty years. I felt like we had.

 

"Those two are bound to get all tangled tonight," he said nodding over his shoulder. He meant Clyde and Clara.
"May they do it in sticky excess," I said, raising my glass.
"May they not involve my ass," Bobby said.

 

He ordered a bourbon and we clinked glasses. I could tell Melissa was impressed that I was friends with Bobby. She came back over and I introduced them. Everybody knew Bobby.

 

"She cute, Cher," he said after she walked away.
"I'm in love with her."
"Now you talking like an Acadian," he said.
"I need something," I said.
"Let's go on in the back and have a public safety meeting," he said. "Ask that pretty bartender if she likes to come."
The bar was all of the sudden busy and Melissa was a good worker. I couldn't catch her eye.
"Let's just go," I said.