The Old Railroad Pub

It began to rain as I strolled through the dark alleyways trying to find some shelter and dodge the pouring rain and these mud puddles. My socks were soaking wet and I forgot my coat in my apartment. I was not prepared for this rain. I saw two bright yellow lights shining through the windows ahead, the fog and the rain made it extremely difficult to see clearly what was ahead and what was behind, but I knew this was the way. I followed the lights and it led me to the old pub near the train station. I was eager to hide from this miserable day, and this rain was just a good excuse.

I can always count on drowning my misery into the bottles of Irish whiskey or a simple gin. Heck, if I ever need someone to listen to my tales of glory and pain I can count on the bartender to allow me to vent, he tends to always foresee my line of mistakes. Perhaps he must be naive and humble, just an all around nice guy, otherwise no one else would pity me the way he does.

He pours an old bourbon into his own glass and shares his tales of wisdom and allows me to stay for hours and hours. No other bartender ever does this, especially in this god forsaken town. It’s almost sad to say that I truly believe he is my only friend. He generously allows me to be here every night. He must have a much better life to get back to once he closes those doors on me and sends me home. I, on the other hand, don’t. Matter of fact I never want to return home.

This morning I woke up with a throbbing headache, as if I smashed my head against a wall on my way home last night. I tried recalling whether it was because of the cognac or it was because of my thoughts lingering in my head every night. The bartender mentioned that the drinks he serves were exceptionally ancient. I guess the older it gets the more poisoned. That I did not mind.

I had a sudden flashback of the trip to New Orleans one summer in July, when I finished an entire bottle of Bourbon and befriended the saxophone player who set up his music station outside of my hotel for the past two days, his name was James Rocklin, (I promised not to forget his name, if we still kept in touch today he would’ve been proud to know I kept my promise). I gave him a one hundred dollar bill and we ended up at a whiskey bar called The Rusty Nail that evening then took a cab over to Bourbon where we roamed throughout the streets singing our hearts out to Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington. I can never forget that headache the next morning as I slept on the steps of some witch museum on Royal street. The owner, dressed in all black, came out staring at me as if she saw a ghost. The sight of me filled her with disgust, as if I was contaminating her doorsteps with my intoxicated appearance. I looked back at her, holding my vomit.

“You got some magic in there for this headache?”

She looked me up and down and kicked me off her steps with her broom and a couple of voodoo rocks. I strolled down Decatur avenue and found my way back to my hotel, thinking to myself, maybe I am invisible. That witch woman hexed me.

The stories of my nights in New Orleans were most haunting and indelible. Sometimes I wish I was still there, it’s better than where I will be going this afternoon.

I sure hope James is doing well and his saxophone.

The courthouse was about an hour away by train and I had to dress as decently as I could. Not a slightest desire to look like a decent man at this moment. Looking in the mirror I noticed my uncombed hair, the suit is wrinkled and I cannot seem to find my tie. I needed something to hide these miserable wrinkles. This shows how much shit I actually give about my appearance.

I found my old slacks, and noticed I still had my wedding suit hiding in between old sweaters. Tucked and rotten in dust. The last thing I needed to see. The alarm on my phone went off to remind me it was getting close to the time. I rushed over to the door and took a deep breath before turning the knob. I ran my wet fingers through my greasy hair to get it out of my face and try to look presentable for the audience. Hopefully no one notices my unwashed hair, or how rotten I felt inside.

It was almost afternoon and I was running late, as usual. The dreadful hallway stood before me as the elevator doors opened wide to the second floor. For some strange reason, my body became tense and heavy. At first I noticed it was a blur of human bodies passing by in slow motion, then the image in my mind clarified and in a few seconds I could clearly see the vision before me.

There she stood next to the double door, dressed in her sophisticated blazer and a slim black skirt, with her eyes glued on the clock above. As I got closer to where she stood, I paused in my steps to maintain my distance. A hand on my shoulder abruptly startled me and I jumped to turn to see who it was. A tall gray haired man stood before me with a slight grin, it was Adam Leny.

“You didn’t answer my call. But glad you made it on time.”

He said as he shook my hand firmly. Adam was my lawyer and one of my good friends. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t know what to do in this situation. I had no one left to turn to, and he has been the only one to feel sorry for my misery.

“Are you ready to go in? They are ready for us. Let’s get this over with.”

He speaks softly so that only I can hear, and pats me on my back. I nod my head quietly and we go inside. I can hear the sound of her heels behind us following us into the courtroom. The heavy feeling is still lingering all over me. I feel like bricks are stacked above my head, crushing me and my insides. I felt hot and sweaty all of sudden, felt like I was catching a fever. She sat on the right side with her lawyer, and I sat on the left with Adam. Her legs were crossed and her poise was stern. I can tell she hated me, not once she glanced my way. I wasn’t expecting it anyway, it just bothered me how strong willed she was when it came to ignoring my existence. The judge went over all the settlements, it was becoming finalized officially. It was time to settle this divorce. I already mentioned to Adam beforehand, how I did not want to battle or argue and just let it be her way, I wanted this nightmare to end.

Walking back into the dreadful hallway, I felt as if some of the bricks were removed and I could finally breathe a little better. The heavy feeling was still lingering but didn’t cause much burden like it did earlier. I felt relieved at last. Adam walked me to my car and we shook hands.

“Thank you so much man. If it wasn’t for you I would have collapsed there. You are a good man Adam. I wish I can repay you for all you did for me.”

I told him sincerely.

Adam embraced me.

“Don’t you worry, it’s no problem. Now you are a free man and I hope you are ready to move forward. I know this was a tough road for you. I need you to stay strong.”

The thought of moving forward and staying “strong” sounded hopeless and risky, and I already felt an itch of tension and anxiety flowing through the veins. I knew one thing for sure, I was glad I didn’t have to face her again.

“I wish it were that easy Adam. If only.”

I got in my car and turned the key in the ignition. Adam stood a bit further away now and I can still hear him.

“Just don’t hurt yourself and binge, please, I know you too well. Don’t think I didn’t notice those bourbon bottles under that record player of yours.”

I rolled up my window after his last words and drove off, with his words echoing in my head “don’t binge,” Adam knew me too well indeed. Little did he know that I already started.

The mornings of my glory days were always very pleasant. I was ready to face the day the moment my eyes opened each awakened day. The smell of coffee and hot breakfast is always a delightful image. The thought of those images made me uneasy, they felt so far away, out of reach. It must be some faded dream or I’m hallucinating again. Instead of the coffee, I can smell whiskey and a few drops of cognac reeking from the cracks of my broken body. I winced as I lifted my head up to see the time on my clock. It was almost sunset. I slept the day away. After weeks of insomnia I deserved it. For once I took pity on myself. My mother would be so proud.

Walking towards the pub, I crossed over the railroad tracks and noticed there stood an old building. I recall seeing this building here but for some reason it stood out this evening. I noticed an old woman with wavy hair looking at me through the window. I waved my hand and blew the smoke from my cigarette towards her. Didn’t think anyone lived there, it was very uncanny. When the smoke evaporated into space she vanished from the window. The door to the pub stood before me, the dark red paint was cracked, like an old log house with peeled old paint. The dark old pub where my sorrows subside.

I noticed Frank the banker sat in his faithful stool sipping on his fourteenth century Zubrowka, dissolving every pain he has ever felt. I sat beside old Benjamin, who barely said a word and enjoyed hearing my complaints. He had on the same exact hat and a worn out 19th century coat he wore every time I saw him. He told me one day, he wore it to disguise himself but never revealed from whom. He kept scanning the pub as if someone was coming to get him. I never understood that guy. He was quite a mystery.

“Do you feel better today, old mate?”

I heard the bartender appear from behind the counter holding a new bottle of cognac.

“I feel exhausted but relieved. Just need this nightmare to end, so I can sleep.”

I told him and took my first sip of the bourbon sitting in a glass ready for me. He knew my poison too well.

“You know this is not the end of the world for you, life goes on. You see, old mate, things change, but you gotta keep moving, don’t be idle. That’s no way to live. ”

This is probably the first time he has given me some real wisdom. Usually he would pity me and listen to my rambling without much input.

“You must write again,” he said.

The thought of writing made me think of all the sleepless nights, the stress, the main reason she left, the reason I went insane, and the beautiful magical memories it has brought before the chaos.

I can remember it like it was not too long ago. I wish I didn’t remember, you’d think the good memories will be less painful but they tend to hurt the heart a little more than bad memories. My mind drifted away into another world, a memory lane, a moment we created years ago. The memory came in like a sudden wave from a still ocean.

“Am I cursed to be married to a writer?”

I can hear her voice coming from the bedroom, she was folding her clothes into a suitcase. I was busy shaving in the bathroom. I rinsed my blade and wiped my face dry, I went towards the bedroom.

“Oh come on darling, you knew this the moment you met me.”

I had a smirk on my face when she glanced at me with a suspicious look.

“Yeah, you are lucky that I have a soft spot for passion and good writing.”

She smiled at me this time and met my gaze.

“So you’re calling my writing good? I thought you thought I had a strange imagination.”

She zipped her suitcase and stood tall and looked into the mirror to look at her appearance, fixing her hair she turned to me with her warm smile.

“Darling, I admire your strange imagination. After all, I am part of it all.”

The island breeze was glorious. The sand beneath our feet when the waves danced around us felt like a dream. We were walking on clouds. It was our moment to be ourselves, nothing stood in our way, we felt free. It was probably the best moments we spent last. It motivated me to focus on what is important, my writing and our dreams. I painted this perfect postcard of our life together, her hand caressing every chapter, with my mind, body and soul pouring the ink into these pages. My focus was steady and I was ready to take life by the hand. I had ideas flowing all over the island. My mind was ready to tackle all the wonderful wonders of storytelling.

Her laying next to me in our villa overlooking the sea, the Italian champagne in the evenings as we dance our way between the satin sheets. The memories, so vivid, beautifully placed in one postcard, cut severely deep. The memories I must erase now will probably be my only route to setting my agony free.

After years of passion and inspiration, and my obsession with keeping our dream alive, I lost my way. The island breeze felt so far away suddenly. The emptiness inside my creative mind was eating me alive. That island felt out of reach now, and the wonderful memories lingered inside my head and were my only hope. I tried holding on but lost my grip and somewhere in between, the inspiration died. My world became difficult to understand. The sleepless nights, and the lack of inspiration turned my world upside down in my writer’s block. Our paradise became a memory, the sea breeze was miles and miles away.

“You came home late, is everything okay?”

She would ask me one morning, probably the first time I ever heard her question my whereabouts, I never stayed out late before and almost always kept her updated about where I was at all times. My head still spinning from the bourbon I had with a fellow writer Rupert the night before when we chatted about our glory days of good writing at the bar.

“Yes darling, I was out with Johnny Astro this afternoon discussing his new novel. He needed my input on it. I gave him some notes.”

I was being honest with her, I was with Astro, except we discussed his novel merely over several shots of whiskey. That I left out.

She could smell the alcohol in my clothing, I knew she was no fool. Nothing can go past this woman, this is why I loved her, she always paid close attention to detail.

“I thought you said you don’t like to drink.”

She had a discouraged look on her face. I felt guilty and aloof around her, but could not lie to her.

“I know, I am sorry. I was very stressed out lately and needed to relax. Promise it will only be occasionally.”

I came closer to her and wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. At first she hesitated, then held me back. She was my sanctuary. I felt like she always knew how to keep me safe, it felt that way in her arms.

Sadly, that’s the day I lied to her for the very first time.

The memory faded away from my mind as I took another sip of bourbon and felt the pain rushing over me again. I knew deep inside I would do anything to feel her arms around me again, to feel safe and loved. She was so darn good at that.

Her pale skin evaporated through space and I lifted my head from my drink and saw Ben with his intoxicated smile on his face.

“You need to go home.”

He said as he took another gulp of his whiskey. I laughed and shook my head.

“Ben, this is my home now. It’s too dreadful to step foot into an empty apartment. My bed is a coffin and I can’t seem to fall asleep lately.”

The thought of being alone in that apartment tears my heart into pieces. The moment I walk in and look around, it feels empty and abandoned, it feels pointless to be there. Ben turned away and kept drinking away and said no more.

After several dark hours an old man walked into the pub and the door slammed shut behind him and startled me. I turned and noticed I haven’t seen him here before, I’ve come too often to recognize everyone who came religiously to join our misery. He sat beside me and ordered some rum. The bartender poured him a glass and winked at him. He sat quietly and sipped his rum then began to speak without looking my way.

“I got kicked out again.”

The man suddenly spoke and then paused, took a large gulp of the remaining shot in his glass, then continued to speak.

“She said I will wind up on the streets soon enough. This is how much faith she has in me.”

I wasn’t sure whom he was speaking to, myself or to the glass of rum in front of him. He then looked at me and we looked at one another for a brief moment.

“What are you doing here young man? Did you lose your way like the rest of us? You don’t have enough grays in your hair quite yet, what is eating you inside besides the old bourbon?”

He stared hard at me when he spoke, waiting for me to answer. I told him my nightmares and how I couldn’t tell them apart anymore. How I cannot step inside my home without vomiting all over the entryway. The uneasy feeling of discomfort when I fall asleep on the bathroom floor. I had no passion for anything, that I felt empty and hopeless. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not real anymore. My mind was a dungeon of toxic thoughts.

“You sound like me, bitter and drunk. Although my heart is not broken, I know I am hanging on the thin ice, that’s for sure.”

He began to laugh and waved his hand for the bartender to pour him another one.

“You know what I think? I think you should go aboard that next train and get on with your tales. Head over to Main, and make your way to Canada.” He placed a few dollars on the counter after swallowing down the next drink and hopped off the stool, put on his hat and patted me on the back. He then took out a photo from his pocket inside his brown wool coat and showed me.

“This is her. This is why I gotta get home. You know I think your bathroom floor would be a lot more comfortable than sleeping under a bridge, it sure as hell isn’t pleasant.”

With a quick smirk he patted my back again and tipped his hat and walked out of the door. The wooden door slammed shut behind him. The wind was brutal this evening. I sat there silently for a brief moment. The old bourbon has taken over my body and my soul, I felt dizzy. It took me back in time. I closed my eyes and saw an island, the memory became vivid again.

The old man opened the chapters of my misery. I couldn’t help but to visualize the joy I felt on that island, the distance, being so far away and feeling happy and free. I almost forgot who that man was at that time, so joyful, witty and passionate. He was loved and admired. I wish I were him again. I feel like I lost him along the way.

Perhaps, now that I think about it, she lost him along the way too.

The one particular memory that lingers through my mind; not even a bottle of bourbon can make me forget that particular trip to the beautiful island of Capri.

The sun was shining at dawn, the sea breeze danced through the windows, fanning the beautiful city with it’s misty air. The sun is warming up the hills, heating the earth with it’s fire.

Music in the air, echoing through the alleyways. The essence of summer mornings are most joyful and exciting. Everyone awakens to the sea breeze, the smell of wine, roses and kisses.

How does one forget such memories?

That light each morning, shining alongside a curvilinear figure that lays before me. My mind and body was awakened, mesmerized by this delicate image, it was exhilarating. My fingers caressing the softness of this delicacy before me, patiently waiting for this angelic figure to turn its face and look me in the eye. The sound of the sea brushing against the rocks, the air so crisp but warm. I felt like I was floating in the clouds, or entered an oil painting of a beautiful dream. She softly whispered as she gently turned around.

“Are you watching me?”

With her flirtatious smile she turns to face me and looks me in the eye. I nervously smiled back at her.

“Guilty darling, I couldn’t help but to admire your beauty, and the way that sunlight is dancing on your bare back; how can I resist such a sight this lovely morning? Can you blame me Miss?”

I saw her blushing under that shy smile of hers.

“Is that why you left the bed? To watch me.”

She teased as she began to caress my hand with her delicate soft fingers. I shut my eyes for a moment to control myself. It felt like a magnet, her hands, it kept me attached, it made me feel the most safest, and of course, aroused. I knew those hands too well, especially the way she knew how to caress every nerve on my body. She placed her hands around my face and stroked it.

“How about some breakfast?”

She didn’t need to say anymore, she knew the way to my heart is through my breakfast plates and caffeine.

The way the sea breeze came through those white cotton curtains, made my body shiver. The kind of shivers that tingle all over your body and make you giddy and aloof. I was more aroused about the thought of eggs and french toast and some dark coffee. I ran my fingers around her bare back and gave her a peck on the neck. She tasted like the sea and cotton candy, and smelled like the palm trees. I stood up and just stared hard at her, frozen in space.

“What are you looking at? Go get your breakfast.”

She giggled nervously. I found her child-like giggle very cute and endearing.

“ I just wish I could have you laying like this all the time. Shall we move to Capri and call it a day?”

I said, and I meant it. I couldn’t think of any other place to be, but here, especially this moment. The picturesque image of this beautiful momentum was a content feeling, I wanted to live inside this painted dream life and re-live it daily. Her laying with her bare back towards me, and the sound of the sea breeze putting us to sleep and waking us at dawn with its enchanting sound of waves. It all sounded electrifying.

The night was still young when I tumbled my way out of the pub. I didn’t know where the thought came from but it must’ve been the memory, I wanted to be in the light again. The images of the beautiful island and the softness of her skin against mine, made me weak at the knees. The bourbon took over my veins and my brain. I saw blurry lights before me. I winced uncomfortably and noticed the old woman watching me from the old building again. She was frozen in space.

I went back into my memory, the blue sky overlooking the villas and the sunshine dancing through our windows. The image didn’t last long, a bright light came over these memories like a dark rain cloud, it felt like I was losing my sight.

The bright lights were coming towards me and all I heard was the memory of her sweet laughter echoing around me. I saw her face looking at me wistfully with her hollow eyes. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I did not want to remember her that way. Suddenly her face drifted away like a ghost evaporating through space. The dizziness came rushing through my brain like a tornado, I felt unsteady, and lightheaded. I lost control of my entire body, and could no longer hold myself up. All of a sudden I collapsed to the ground. These bright lights blinded me and made me lose my sight. I felt like I was in a fog of blur. The sound of sirens felt like miles away. I could no longer feel my body, or my soul. I felt no pain. The poison numbed me, as it usually has over the last few weeks. It’s the only thing that numbs my pain, and the only thing that brought me down to this moment.

The crowd of people gathered around a half dead man laying on the railroad tracks. His clothes were soiled in bourbon and dirt from the muddy railroad.

Suddenly this old man steps in and glances at me. My eyes are having a difficult time getting back to focus. I saw a white beard and a cap. His eyes were dark and steady, he was watching me. Slowly but surely I recalled those dark eyes and recognized that ancient cap he wore. He was the last face I remembered before I collapsed. He picked me up and placed me on the near bench. I tried opening my eyes again and winced at the pain. I felt like a blind man getting his eyesight back and can’t seem to adjust.

He wasn’t the only one hovering over me, I noticed an old woman carrying a glass of water towards me. I tried to bring my eyes back to focus but it was painful. I noticed her grey wavy hair and her green knitted sweater, it looked familiar. Right behind her stood an old abandoned building. One of the windows was shattered. I recognized the woman’s face as she approached me with the glass of water. She gently placed it in my shaking hand and helped me take a sip. I looked at her bewildered and at the shattered window behind her.

“Where is he?!”

I heard Adams’ voice from a distance. The worry in his voice brought my vision into focus a bit. What was he doing here? I turned to face the crowd that stood around me. I had no idea there were others around. I saw Adam’s body moving towards me in slow motion, like he was coming to identify a dead body. The look on his face was worrisome.

He suddenly appeared nearer now when I heard his voice loud and clear this time.

“It’s okay I know this man.”

He rushed over towards me and glanced at me up and down with a dejected look on his face. I did not want him to pity me, but that’s exactly what he was doing. I could see him clearly now and everyone was hovering over me like vultures. I felt like roadkill.

“Adam, why are you here?”

“That man who found you checked your phone and saw the last call on your phone was from me about the hearing. Here I am, finding you all fucked up like this. I didn’t think you’d go back down that road again Alexander, I mean, you just closed the door to that chapter. It was the main reason you lost your way in the first place. If I knew you were gonna wind up like this I wouldn’t have left you that day at the hearing.”

After his speech he stared at me waiting for me to answer. I didn’t want to lie to him again like I did the past few months. I just stared back at him, still surprised by his presence. I looked around and noticed a familiar face staring at me from afar, this is the man Adam was referring to who has found me. He stared hard at me with pity and I stared back at him, assuming he recalls being present throughout all of my drunken nights pouring liquor into my glass. This episode started to get very perplexed.

“You weren’t supposed to see me this way. I was on my way to get on the next train to Maine, I swear I was — — .”

I couldn’t catch my words, I wanted to tell Adam that I was ready to start over and get my shit together and bring back the man I left in Capri. I wanted to be him again. He was a lot likable than this intoxicated man laying on this bench soiled in his misery.

“What train? What are you talking about? And how will you get anywhere drunk and with nothing in your pocket?”

He sounded annoyed now and confused. I touched my pockets and realized they were empty, Adam was right, I didn’t have a single coin in either pockets. My head was becoming dizzy again with the confusion, I felt delirious.

“I was waiting for the train, Adam, that train station….”

I turned to the side to look for the train station and the railroad. Adam looked at me bewildered. He followed me as I pointed to the railroad tracks deserted and rusted with ancient trains who have long ago shared its glory.

“That train station…”

I shut my eyes and felt like there was a loud helicopter roaming in circles above my head.