Incident at Sam’s Bar

By Lee Ann Stevens

Alan started frequenting Sam’s Bar when Joanne was working later than he was, which was most evenings. He liked the vagueness, the privacy in the dimly lit room even when people were speaking to each other. There was comfort in the role he could play there – a stranger relieving the strains of his day with a slow drink, deep in thought but feigning interest if anyone started a conversation with him. But the distance, his preferred stance, was hard to maintain. He was often stuck in the crosswind of conversation with an odd mix of people discussing topics of no interest to him, which made him finish his drink in more of a hurry than he preferred. Still, he felt compelled to spend time there. 

Joanne noticed his stops at the bar and even encouraged him, being a believer in individual freedom in marriage. They’d been married for five years and everyone said they were a perfect couple. Alan knew it made sense to love her because they had similar backgrounds and careers, but increasingly he felt an ache instead of comfort in her presence.

The incident happened on a soundless winter night. Joanne said she would meet him at the bar at 9:00. She said she wanted to see what drew him to this place. She also said she had something important to tell him. 

Walking from his office to the bar, he felt at peace, with a quiet exultation rising for no particular reason in his chest. The stars had rarely seemed sharper,  the cold more invigorating. When he arrived, the place was quiet and nearly deserted, except for three men scattered at the bar and a woman he’d never seen before behind it. He took a seat and smiled at her when she looked up. One of the men, with a bulbous nose and pock-marked face, commented on her drink-mixing talent. 

“Thing I wanna know is,” he slurred, “whatsa girl like you doin’ here instead of home with her husband?”

“I haven’t got a husband,” she answered, not looking at the man, but over at Alan instead. She walked toward him with a sweet look of interest and inquiry. He saw the curve of her breasts beneath her shirt, the shape of her eyes and their rich color. He rarely thought of other women, but she stirred him in a way Joanne never had. 

“What will you have?” she asked, smiling.

“Scotch on the rocks, please.”

Before turning away to get his drink, her eyes lingered on his long enough to give him the impression she’d like to talk to him about more than what he wanted to drink. He abandoned his need to retreat into silence and prepared to get through those awkward attempts at establishing meaningful grounds for friendship with a stranger. 

“You a lawyer?” she said with a sly smile when she put his drink down.

“Yes, it’s a family tradition I had to follow. How’d you guess?” 

“I can usually tell. You have that lawyer look. Maybe it’s the suit.”

“Yes, actually it’s a suit made especially for lawyers.” His tone was teasing and she caught on. 

“Well, Mr. Lawyer, will you be running a tab?”

“Yes. Name’s Alan.”

“Okay, Alan. Enjoy your drink.”

As she served other customers, Alan had the impulse to straighten his tie, or remove it altogether. He glanced at the mirror over the bar to see if his hair looked okay. This is silly, he thought, following her graceful movements as she mixed drinks, her head bent away from him so he could just see the nape of her neck. He focused on his scotch, felt it loosen his muscles, a day of tension melting away with each sip. Even the other customers, usually an irritation to him, took on a certain light. Their faces glowed with soft animation, and he saw character in each one.  Only the man staring at the bartender disgusted him. Just then the man started up again.

“Whad you say your name was, sweetheart?”

A look of irritation crossed her face. “It certainly isn’t sweetheart,” she replied.

“C’mon, honey, don’t be mad. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Well I think you’ve had enough to drink, and it’s time for you to leave.”

“I don’t wanna leave. I want your phone number. Maybe buy you dinner some night you’re not working.”

Alan shifted in his seat. 

Should he do something? 

Defend the woman? 

A man came out from a room behind the bar before he could decide to intervene. 

“This man giving you trouble, Terri?”

“Yes. He’s had enough to drink and needs to leave.”

“Okay, you heard the woman, pal. Pay up and leave before this gets ugly.”

The man slapped some bills on the bar, muttering about being thrown out for thinking a girl’s pretty and warning them that they wouldn’t see him in the bar anymore. No one objected to that.

Terri and the man, presumably her manager, consulted in low conversation after that. Then he pitched in, since the place was getting busier. Soon, Terri walked the length of the bar toward Alan.

“Time for another?” her smile was strained.

“Hey, I’m sorry you have to put up with that,” he offered, “and yes, one more please.”

“It comes with the job,” she said, flatly. “Thing is, there are people who come in here I’d like to get to know. You for instance.” They locked eyes. He wanted to say he was happily married but he couldn’t. Instead, for some reason he didn’t understand, he blurted “I’d like to kiss you.”

Just then, Joanne slid onto the barstool next to him.

“So this is it?” A shadow crossed her face. “Good to know.”

Her hand rose. Alan thought she might touch his arm, as she used to do. Instead, she reached for the hand that appeared on her shoulder.

“We have something to say.” 

He looked up at his brother standing behind her, looking down at him.

Lee Ann Stevens writes fiction and creative nonfiction. Publication credits include Bright Flash Literary Review, Straylight Literary Magazine,  Good Old Days Magazine, BoomSpeak, Story Circle Network Journal and publications, the Journal of Expressive Writing, Persephone Literary Magazine, Manifest-Station, and Pure Slush Lifespan Series.