Colin took another glance around the dive. He’d wanted time alone, but this place was deserted. All except this bartender who was smiling at him jovially. For a minute, he just stood there as the man looked at him expectantly.
He asked if I want a drink, I’d better answer.
“Sure, uh, whatever you think I’d like,” he said, and furrowed his brow when he realised he said that.
The bartender looked thoughtful for a moment, before starting to mix something up.
“Is it always this quiet in here?” Colin asked, thinking there must be some reason nobody was coming in here. The bartender gave an unconcerned shrug.
“You should see it on the fourth of July,” he said.
“Why? What’s on the fourth of July?” Colin asked, taking a seat on a barstool. The bar smelled of old beer and tobacco, though there was no actual smoke in the air.
The man tilted his head. “Not from around here, are you?”
Colin placed his elbows on the bar, and planted his chin in his hands.
“I’m from, uh, Canada,” he said, using the same old excuse the sliders made every time this kind of thing came up. It rang hollow, and he got the impression the bartender didn’t believe it. And yet, he didn’t press the issue.
“You looked a little lost when you came in here,” he said, placing a little paper umbrella in a highball glass, and placing the strong-smelling beverage in front of him. It looked just like a drink he’d ordered a long time ago, just after sliding for the first time. He picked up the red umbrella and studied it.
“In case you need to protect your drink from the elements,” the bartender joked, and Colin met his eye with a glare, as he realised this man was using the same phrasing he’d used the first time he encountered a decorative umbrella.
The bartender didn’t react to Colin’s surprise, and just resumed polishing glasses.
“So, you in town for long?”
Colin sipped from his glass, and somehow wasn’t shocked to find it tasted just the same as that first time.
“I’m here for about nine more days.”
“Heading home for Christmas?”
Colin swirled the cocktail in his hand.
“I don’t really have a home,” he admitted. “I just… travel, here and there. With my brother, and a couple of friends.”
“Ah, I hear the nomad lifestyle is all the rage these days.” He looked back at a framed photo of a Kombi van on the wall behind the bar. It was parked at a beach, and the roof rack was loaded with some large surf boards.
“Did you rope your brother into it or did he rope you?” He had amusement in his eyes.
“He roped me,” Colin said truthfully. “It was quite unexpected, and I had no time to prepare. People are probably wondering whatever happened to me, I suppose.”
The bartender stroked his chin for a moment. “But you still left?”
“Yes, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you could say. And I wanted to get to know my brother.”
“You didn’t know him before?”
“No, we’d just met.” Colin downed the remainder of the drink, and put the paper umbrella in his pocket. He didn’t know why, but it felt significant.
“You didn’t grow up with your own brother, huh? That’s a shame.”
Colin eyed the man, who’d so easily managed to drill down to exactly what was bothering him in just a few pointed questions.
“I grew up alone in… a remote community that stifled my natural talents and interests.”
The bartender took his empty glass.
“That explains why you don’t know what the fourth of July is, I assume. Another?”
Colin bit his lip. “No thanks. How much do I owe you for that?”
“Tell you what,” said the bartender, “I’m feeling generous. I’ll fix you up another if you’ll stay and talk a while longer. On the house.”
“Forgive me,” Colin said, puzzled, “but how exactly does this place turn a profit if you’re giving free drinks to your only customer?”
The bartender just flashed him a wink, and continued making the second drink without answering the question.
“So, your brother shows up out of nowhere and whisks you away with no notice, and now you’re just travelling to parts unknown? Is that right?”
“That’s exactly right,” Colin said, with a hint of melancholy. “He’s trying to catch me up on everything I missed out on, but I missed… a lot.”
“You wish you could have grown up together?” The man placed the second drink on the counter, and Colin took a sip.
“I wish a lot of things.”
The bartender nodded sympathetically. “Nothing wrong with wishing once in a while. Never know if they might come true.”
Colin laughed. “What if my wish coming true would cause a ripple effect that completely changed the makeup of my neurons? I would be a completely different person. And who knows what other repercussions it would have to the people around me and my past actions?”
The bartender looked at him with surprise. “Most people don’t think that critically about mere wishes.”
“Most people don’t have a real chance to make their most improbable wishes come true…” Colin took another sip of the drink. What was in this thing, that he was talking so freely?
“Even then, I think most people would still jump at the chance, rather than talk themselves out of it.” The bartender smiled. “But, you’re not like most people, are you?”
“You’re not like most bartenders,” Colin countered, as he squinted at the man, as if to try and see what was really under that bartender costume.
“I’m just here to lend a sympathetic ear,” he said. “That’s the number one task when you’re working a bar, you know.”
“Who are you, anyway?” Colin said, sure now that this strange little man knew far more than he was letting on.
“The name’s Al,” he said, frowning, and pointing to the sign on the door. “I was sure you’d read my sign, thought you would have put two and two together. You seem pretty switched on.”
Colin shook his head, but said no more as he took another sip of his drink.
Al the bartender stretched, and leaned against the bar. “You don’t think you deserve good things happening to you, do you?”
Colin shot him a glare. “What makes you say that?”
“Rationalising away that wish of yours, finding reasons it couldn’t work out for you. I think you must have been put down all your life for things you did trying to make things better, and you came to believe what they said.”
Colin was no longer having a nice conversation. It seemed like this Al was invading his mind and trying to pry information out of him, like what he’d heard Kromaggs do.
He suddenly felt very uneasy about the things he’d said here.
“But then again, I’m just a bartender,” Al continued. “You can take my advice with a grain of salt.”
Colin had no idea what that meant.
“I just want you to know that no matter what you choose, whatever changes, you’ll still be the same guy in here.” He placed a hand on his heart.
Colin, despite his suspicions, finished off the drink, and stood.
“Thanks for the chat,” Al said with what appeared to be a genuine smile, though Colin was on edge. “If there’s one thing better than closing a big tab, it’s a stimulating conversation with an interesting patron.”
Colin turned away.
“Y-yeah,” he said. “Thanks for the free drinks.”
As he opened the door to leave, Al called out. “Say ‘hi’ to Sam for me.”
Colin stopped dead in his tracks as the door shut behind him, and he swung around to ask the guy what he meant by that, but he was now looking into a bar with all the lights off, and a chain with a padlock on the door where there definitely hadn’t been one just a second ago.