After talking with Dr. York, I run to my room. I throw anything within reach, but that doesn’t satisfy the anger and disappointment in myself. Seething, I run out of the room and just keep running.
Eventually, I arrive at Sol’s bar. Empty peanut shells litter the worn wooden floors. An old, worn-out pool table sits near the front entrance, and a small stage that looks ready to fall apart is nestled in the far corner of the room. The quiet bar fills with regulars.
I thought this would be a safe place to just sit, maybe get drunk, but Sol recognizes me. I came here before to watch Charlie and his band sing. I couldn’t talk much then. Without asking me, Sol slides me a glass bottle—a ginger ale. Thanks a lot, Sol. I can’t complain. He doesn’t send me away. He doesn’t even ask why I am here, sitting in my usual corner with my head down, glasses on, hat low so no one recognizes me. I never drink alcohol, but right now, I wish I could.
My miserable existence plays over and over in my head when I hear this loud, irritating laugh. A man at a nearby table gropes Peaches, the waitress.
“Come on, baby. I know you give it up to some of the guys who walk in here. Just give me a little sample. Hell, I’ll probably rock your world better than most of those guys.”
Peaches struggles to get out of his firm grip. She faces me and immediately recognizes me from before. Her eyes dart from me toward Sol, who is turned away from us. She’s asking for help. Sol is a little deaf. He refuses to admit it, but I think years of owning a bar with its loud music desensitized his hearing.
I whistle, but he doesn’t turn around. Fucking Sol. I whistle again when a big, meaty hand slams down in front of me. My ginger ale bottle tips over onto me and then crashes to the ground. Peaches leverages the distraction to leave her aggressor and promises to return with a towel to clean up the mess. An angry asshole stares in my face. Thanks, Peaches.
“Mind your own damn business, son.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just trying to get another drink.”
“Aren’t you a bit young to be sitting in a bar?” he asks, his rotten breath in my face.
When was the last time this guy brushed his teeth? Trying not to gag, I reach into my pocket and pull out a piece of gum. “Here. You need this. Might help you get lucky.” I shove the gum in his chest. His four equally fat and ugly friends all laugh. “Some friends you have. Couldn’t tell you that your breath stinks,” I mumble, sliding off the chair to clean myself off.
I reach forward for some napkins, but the gigantic prick grabs me by my hoodie and lifts me off the floor. I am so fucking tired of assholes thinking they can boss me around. I want to hit this fucker so badly. Instead of a roiling rage, I feel a disturbingcalm. I hang in his grasp and let him think he has the upper hand.
“Look here, son. I’m going to let you off with a warning because I don’t think your mama would appreciate me messing up that pretty face of yours. I’m only going to say this once. Mind your business.” He leans in closer to my face.
I gag and try to cover my mouth with the back of my hand.
He shakes me. “Knock that shit off before I teach you a lesson on how to respect your elders.”
“I respect my elders, sir, but I have a problem with poor hygiene getting up in my face.” His friends hoot and holler louder at his expense, which just angers him more.
“You better watch it, boy, or your mama won’t recognize your face when you get home.”
I stare squarely into his eyes and deadpan, “Too late.” I cock my head to the side, exposing the scars on my face.
He squints. “You should have learned your lesson, then. I’m still going to let you off with a warning.” He lowers me back to my feet. “Now you better tuck those crayons in that pocket of yours and get your ass back home to your mama.”
I snort and give him a middle-finger salute.
“Sure thing, boss,” I mock him. I smile at his friends and look them up and down one by one. They are all big, like their asshole friend, but they’re clumsy. I can tell by the number of times they knocked over their drinks. As I pass, I check in with their thoughts.
Aww, too bad he let him go. Could have used some entertainment tonight.
’Bout time someone told him about his breath.
What a cocky little shit. Someone should teach that boy a lesson.
That boy is too pretty. Is he one of those “they/them” types?
Little cockblocker. That’s alright. I’m just going to sit here and wait for that pretty waitress to finish her shift. Then I’ll show her what a real cock can do for her. Maybe the boys will enjoy that pussy, too.
I immediately stop walking. Did I just hear that correctly? He plans to rape Peaches. Well, fuck that. I’m not going to let that happen. I spot Peaches at the bar and whistle at her, drawing the attention of the men. I motion with my head for her to follow me. She smirks at me, not understanding. I take her hand and spin her a couple of times before dipping her back. Using my hat to cover our faces, I lean in and whisper, “Give me your gum, Peaches.”
She giggles, places her hand behind my head, and slips me her gum.
“Thank you.”
“Thankyou, sugar.”
