“You too!”
Josiah got Alfie his beer and served a couple of other people before returning to his end of the bar—and to Alfie—with a virgin mojito.
“That looks awesome,” Alfie nodded at his drink.
“Oh, yeah, I make these or other mocktails for myself. The regulars know I don’t have alcohol in them, but it’s kind of funny when new people look at me weird.” Josiah took a sip and smiled happily. Tonight, he would’ve liked the bite of rum, but alas, he didn’t do that stuff anymore, no matter how broken his heart got.
“Ah, well it sounds—”
“So what’s up with the chair?” A guy Josiah had seen a couple of times before asked, leaning on the bar next to Alfie. “Like, that just for show? You got up on that stool just fine.”
“Hey, man—” Josiah started, but was cut off by Alfie.
“So here’s a thing that might blow your little mind,” Alfie said in a politely bitchy tone. “Not everyone who uses a chair uses it all the time or because they can’t walk. Not all of us are paralyzed, either, as you can see.” He gestured grandly at his legs as he kicked his feet like a kid.
“And suggesting there’s anything wrong about having a chair, no matter how someone uses it, is a dick move,” Josiah told the guy.
Myra had caught the man approaching Alfie and was looking at them, just in case.
The guy held up his hands. “Hey, man, I didn’t mean—”
“No, but you still implied I was cheating the system somehow. Because it’s so fucking nice and easy to use a chair.”
“Yeah, sometimes the bathrooms don’t even have stairs!” Josiah deadpanned.
Alfie burst out laughing, which made the guy frown and wave dismissively. “I’ma leave. Was going to get another beer, but I don’t like to be laughed at.”
They watched as he walked out the door, and Myra raised a brow at them. Alfie gave her a thumbs-up, and she relaxed.
Alfie took a drink and then sighed. “I get that a lot. That’s why I tend to either/or it.”
“Not use the chair at all?” Josiah hummed at the explosion of lime and mint from his drink.
“Yeah. Or I just won’t go out. I’m tired of people at this point. Like the memes of disabled people getting stuff from the top shelf in a store or something. Like we’re cheating. It’s… ugh….”
Josiah frowned. “I hate that you have to live with that sort of stuff.” When Alfie glanced at him, he quickly added, “Not whatever has you using the chair, but the idiots who don’t get it. The society at large that’s made stuff difficult for disabled folks?”
Alfie smiled. Josiah noticed his dimples for the first time. Alfie was cute, if young.
“I’ve chronic fatigue syndrome and a TBI. I was in a motorcycle accident when I was seventeen.”
“Hey, I don’t need an explanation.”
“Oh I know. You seem like one of the good ones, so I don’t mind. Besides, I like the place and I’m new around town so….” He shrugged as he glanced around the Hare.
Josiah did the same, trying to see his bar like someone new might. It was cozy, comfortable. As if someone had taken an average little neighborhood bar and crossed it with an Irish pub, maybe?
“Well we’re always happy to have new regulars,” Josiah said, smiling.
“And hey, no stairs!” Alfie grinned, and they toasted with their drinks.
By the time the bar closed and Josiah went upstairs, he felt tired to the bone in more ways than one. He’d known this would happen. That his wretched, unruly heart would decide that they were done, and he would have to live with the consequences.
He already missed Denny like hell. Knowing the man would appear on Wednesday for the open mic night felt like torture.
He paced around his little apartment for a while, feeling agitated to the bone. He needed a drink, but he knew better. At least he had some weed left. He ended up in his bathtub, listening to a random podcast about… something or other, smoking until his bones felt melty and his brain had quieted a little. When he put himself to bed in the morning hours, he knew he wouldn’t be at his best the next day, but at least it was a Tuesday and not open mic night.
As he’d known, he was slower than usual when he dragged himself out of bed hours later than he normally would’ve. He made himself breakfast and ate it, trying to feel as if it was not a big deal to have this hole where his soul used to be.
