I'm sitting at a bar. On the other side is a pretty, young bartendress. We share a mutual acquaintance who won't be there that evening.
Bartendress: So where are you from?
Me: Family came from Puerto Rico back in the 20's. Lived in New York until the late 60's, then they came up here. I was hatched in Connecticut.
Bartendress: Only child?
Me: Yes.
Bartendress: Oh..
Me: I take it you're not then?
Bartendress: I'm one of four, the oldest. I kind of had to look out for them because my mother wasn't all there. She still isn't. I think she resented me for for being more on top of things than she was. And your mother?
I'm going to go out on a limb and say she had a hunch of what my answer was going to be. Maybe not a detailed one, but good hunch. She knew something. I played along.
Me: We're not close. She's got problems, big ones.
Bartendress: Substances?
Me: Among other things.
Bartendress: Mine too and she's bi-polar.
Me: Mine as well. I'm sure these two gals would have a lovely time together stirring up the town.
Bartendress: Where is she?
Me: In the Arizona desert with some guy, off the beaten path. I still get random calls.
Bartendress: Drunken and in the middle of the night?
Me: Yeah.
Bartendress: Apologizing for what she's done?
Me: No, she never apologizes. She blocked everything she did wrong out so I keep her out. It's better for me that way.
Bartendress: Mine apologizes. Always saying she's sorry. Your father?
Me: Dead. Jazz musician. Wrote a jazz opera. Never got made though. He destroyed himself with booze and drugs. Died of colon cancer.
Bartendress: A lot of creative people destroy themselves. My father is an artist and drinks a lot. He's not an alcoholic but he drinks. I don't understand it, it's such a waste.
Me: It is, yes.
Bartendress: Any cousins?
Me: None that I'm close with.
Bartendress: So where do you go for things like Christmas?
Me: Nowhere really because I do the Hanukkah thing. I don't mind being alone. I mean, it doesn't scare me like it does with some. You get use to it. If I think about it, I guess the people at my synagogue are my extended family in a weird way. It's nice to have. Better than nothing at all.
Bartendress: Sometimes the people you find outside your family are better than your actual family.
Me: It's true. I did so much reading about people who come from messed up families trying to make sense of mine. I can live with doing that. Finding other people. I mean when the whole family thing fails at ground zero, what the hell is there left to do? You can't go back to what isn't there.
Bartendress: I did a lot of reading trying to figure it all out too. I still read up on it a lot. You have to carry all this around....inside...and sometimes I hate it and it's hard for other people to understand. I try to explain it to my boyfriend and....I wish...
The sound of a glass smashing on the floor. I don't like this word "boyfriend." The action shifted to a young man who had MS and couldn't hold his glass any longer and dropped it. His illness had advanced in recent weeks, hampering his speech and movements. These were likely his final days to carouse at the bar and be one of the guys. He was alone and a known regular. The staff already had his address to call in a cab. The bartendress came to his aid.
Bartendress: (softly) Come on, we should go upstairs.
Man with MS: No, I want to be with the people down here.
Bartendress: But there's people upstairs who like you better. Come on, let's go see them.
And she took him by the hand and slowly lead him up the stairs.
I wondered, as I settled my tab, what that whole discussion we had was really about. Why did we both wind up talking about our painful past when it could have been the usual small talk about the weather? Why were we so comfortable shedding our armor for a few minutes and why did she lead me as if she had an idea of where it would go? Was she looking for something? Did she want a big tip? Was this some mind fuck? Did she do this for every man that came in alone? Or did she really want to know what made me tick so she could figure out what made her tick? Had opening up made me look like a fool?
I felt bit of anger that I played along and revealed as much as I did. I saw it as weakness and I felt a chill. I wanted to leave and punch myself for being so stupid.
I walked up the stairs and found her still tending to the young man with MS. There were no other people upstairs accept for her. She was holding his hand and reassuring him that all was well as she waited with him for a cab. She was like some modern day Florence Nightingale. It was a sincere and shocking scene to me. You see, this beautiful, young woman actually had a heart and a little bit of mine melted when I saw this. Not easy to do when you go out of your way to keep it a block of ice. A single young man has to protect himself in this ugly world after all.
She smiled and told me to please come by again and that it was great to have met me. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Fuck it all for now. I suddenly felt the weight of past family trauma setting in due to our discussion. Time to put the armor back on. It was a bitterly cold night and my warm bed was still miles away.
