“Dax isn’t too keen on communicating. He hasn’t been the same since the incident.” Eamon begins setting up the cleanglasses, still covered in condensation, onto the bar mats along the back wall.
“What happened to him?” I keep myself busy next to Eamon, slicing apples for the new cider-bourbon drink that’s been added to the fall menu.
“I’ve known Dax for multiple years now. He’s furiously loyal and ungodly stubborn. Last spring, Dax and Garron were sent to collect on a debt…” He pauses briefly as if deciding on his next words. “The situation took a wrong turn…” he finally reveals.
I’ve stopped chopping, only focusing on Eamon’s mouth as he forms each suspenseful word.
“The guy they were sent to collect from pulled a knife. Dax was just following orders, like so many times before.” Eamon has also stopped his monotonous task. Now facing me fully. “Every time I look at him, I wish it would have been me instead.”
I picture the man in question. His perpetually reserved state… the intriguing scar… it all suddenly made sense now. The first time I interacted with him, I shouted at him. Told him to stop washing dishes behind the bar. That was before I knew who Garron and Dax were. This narrative makes me question if I really know who any of these men are, or what they’re capable of.
I can’t keep the question from falling out. “Did Dax lose his ability to speak?” I watch Eamon’s head and shoulders droop, then he nods.
“What about the other guy?” I had to know, why…? I’m not sure. “Did he go to jail? The guy that pulled the knife…”
His mouth tilts upward on one side, causing a crooked smile. “He’s where he belongs,” Eamon declares.
Connor appears from the back. Coming between us, he places down another plastic pallet of glasses. “Hey. Could use some help in the back with the ice machine. It seems to be on the fritz again.” Eamon raises an eyebrow and tilts his head toward me.
“I’m good.” I lie through a smile no less convincing than Jada’s inability to use tact.
He follows Connor to the back, leaving me with my thoughts and a lot of fruit to pack into condiment containers before opening.
Jada eventually hobbles out of the bar, being sure to only hug Brittany goodbye as her eyes pin me with an assessing glare. I secretly wish she fractures something else on her way home.
This is one of the slowest nights I’ve worked to date. Not many people are willing to brave the weather just to try out a few seasonal,apple themeddrinks. Dax eventually shows back up. Soaking wet and looking more ornery than usual. I can’t help but watch the way residual rainwater clings to his face, before finally dripping down his jaw, and past the purple scar. Everything about him is intense, even without him uttering a word.
I couldn’t imagine not being able to speak. Although, I’m sure a lot of people wonder what it’s like to be someone who can’t hear without assistance. Is one really any worse than the other? I doubt there’s any surgery that restores your voice. Is there? All at once, I realize I’ve been staring at him way too long. Now, he’s watching me.
Shit. I scrambled to keep myself busy, wiping down the bar top that wasn’t even dirty. Dax leaves shortly after my awkward bout of gawking, with an ever-foolish Garron at his side.
Eamon spends most of the night in the back, probably repairing the unreliable icemaker. After what seems like forever, they finally emerge and announce that he put in an order for a replacement. It should arrive sometime next week. In the meantime, he encourages us to wear slip resistant footwear. Ha! Look at who’s wishing they had rubber boots now!
The Morton salt girl on the navy-blue packaging wasn’t actually dressed for the rain, aside from the umbrella she held. A lot of people think it's the Mandela Effect. They’re convinced thecompany simply took away the nostalgic imagery of a little girl in a yellow raincoat and boots. In all actuality, she was always in a simple yellow dress and Mary Jane shoes. The mind sometimes has a funny way of recalling something. Having such convictions you saw it one way, only to be told it's completely different than what you swear it actually was.
My boots slosh through ankle high water, as I trudge past flooded, dark streets. The rain hasn’t let up all day. As I approached my home, I notice a police cruiser parallel parked on the other side of my apartment. It looks as if someone was in the dark car, just sitting there. It’s hard to see who was inside the cruiser. Was it a dummy, just to deter people from breaking the law? Not wanting to be on the street a minute longer, I hurry past the vehicle and slip inside my building. From my window, I watch as the cruiser's headlights turn on and pull out onto the street. Clearly, someone was inside. What’s the point of waiting around in dark vehicles? Why leave now? Nothing law enforcement did made any sense.
“You're dripping all over the floor.” I turn from the window to find Andrea in the middle of the room; arms interlocked over her lime-green top, paired with ghost patterned sweatpants. I look down to see the small puddle I made, thanks to my soggy coat and shoes.
“Shit.”
She tosses a tea towel for me to dry the floor. Removing my outerwear, I hang it near the door, then collapse onto the couch. My head feels heavy with the chill returning; I reach for another blister pack of cold medicine. Throwing them back with a half drank water on the table.
“That was mine,” she quips, jutting out her hip, still standing some distance from me. “You should have stayed home. You don’t look so good.”
I drained the hijacked glass before facing her fully. Perhaps it’s all the things that have come to light, my perpetually concerned best friend, or a bout of delirium from the bug I picked up, but I knew these pseudo truths needed to end. No matter what the status of our friendship may be, things were getting more complicated as time went on. I need my friend back.
Nothing made sense anymore. Could Garron be my stalker? It’s clearly not Eamon… But how do they both know my brother? Worse, they both seem to know things I don’t. Things about Theo. I want to tell Andrea everything.
“Andrea, don’t freak out…”
Her eyes narrow, but she remains quiet, now leaning against the frame of her door for stability. Good, she might need it. I steel my nerves by taking in a large breath and holding for ten seconds, just like previous therapists have conditioned me to do. I remind myself to speak slowly. Be concise and don’t get overly emotional, right off the bat.
“I think someone killed Theo.”
Her once slim gaze widens to the size of dinner plates. I continue before I think better about it.
“All these weird things have been happening. First my ex-manager from Star Mart turned up dead the same weekend I quit. Then, some cop came by the apartment and started asking me questions about my time working there. Now, I’m involved with not one but TWO men!” I take a moment to catch my breath, wishing the glass in front of me had more liquid. Andrea’s mouth hangs open, but she remains silent. I begin to speak faster this time, hoping to get it all out before I think better of it. “Actually… I’m not too sure if either could be considered a relationship. I also learned very recently that Eamon knew my brother! Well, here’s the kicker… I found this earbud at the bar; it started playing music! Even though I triedto get rid of it multiple times, it kept coming back! Then, I realized I was being followed. It’s actually my stalker that sort of told me my brother didn’t kill himself and I needed to find something Theo left for me. I can only assume that this thing I need to find will shed light on what actually happened to him.” I may have left out some parts, and I’m glad I did.
