Traces of the Indefinite

Chapter 6

Miles couldn’t believe what he was reading.

He glances down at his phone screen again, reading the brief text over and over, as if to assure himself that he has been reading it correctly.

Heather sat by the table, unsure of what to say. Miles has been staring at his phone screen, then looking away, spacing out, only to return to staring at his screen again. She braces herself for the worst.

Miles takes on last look on the text, which read:

AUD

Hey Miles! Looks like it’s your lucky day. Route 66 is so ready for your tunes. Please reply with your email address so we can send you the deets. Rock on!

“Honey…” Heather begins, almost apologetically.

“I won.” Miles says, softly, in disbelief, head still in the clouds.

Heather’s eyes grow wide at the news. She gets up, quickly, carelessly, almost spilling the half empty coffee cup on the table, and quickly makes her way to Miles’ side of the table.

“Congratulations, honey!” she yelps, throwing her arms around him. 

Heather envelopes her son in a tight hug, smiling, beaming with pride. Miles is shaken by the gesture, and while confused and still processing his victory, he begins to enjoy the comforting warmth of his mother’s hug, something he hadn’t felt in years. Much as he hates to admit it, he missed it a lot. 

“Thanks, mom.” Miles says, muffled by Heather’s arms squeezing his cheek. “Mom, you’re crushing me…”

“Sorry, hon.” Heather says, untruthfully, a smile still on her face. Lord knows how much she missed squeezing him in a tight hug until he complained. 

“I knew you could do it. Told you there can’t be anyone there better than you.”

Heather continues, proudly.

Miles smiles. 

“I gotta tell Louise.”

-

Louise stumbles on her way to the bathroom. The sight of the trademark rock and roll memorabilia at Malcolm’s are always something she had loved, but for some reason, their colors and details aren’t helping her case at all, especially when they’re all hazy and too bright all of a sudden. She clings onto the walls for a little balance, anything to keep herself upright and away from the floor which seems to have a pull on her, for some reason. 

Greg watches her from the counter, a little worried, and was about to send Abby, one of his barmaids, to her rescue, until he sees her disappear into the female bathroom, much to his relief. 

Louise steadies herself by the sink, running her hands under the cold tap water, which somehow wakes her. She looks at her reflection in the mirror. Stupidly, she smiles at herself. 

Look at you, you happy bastard. Good for you. 

She absent-mindedly splashes some water on her face, hoping to relieve her of all the pulsating, hazy mess that she has been for the past hour, smearing her eyeliner, which she apparently had long forgotten about. She wipes her face with a paper towel. 

Her head has been spinning since her second cocktail, and before she knew it, she had ordered two more. She was about to ask for a fifth until Greg put his foot down and refused to serve her another one, taking note of her falling eyelids and rosy cheeks. 

She stumbles her way back to her spot by the bar. After nearly falling at her attempt to sit back down on the tall bar stool, she successfully perches herself on it, leaning her arm by the counter to steady the rest of her. Greg sees her struggle and laughs. 

“Guess I need to call the cavalry.” he laughs.

“What cavalry?” Louise slurs, a silly, drunken smile on her face, knowing it was Miles he was referring to. Miles. Her Miles. 

“Aren’t I the cavalry?” she muses, much to Greg’s amusement, who knew, of course, that she wasn’t wrong. 

“Well, the cavalry needs her own cavalry.” he replies, quickly dialling up Miles’ number, proudly showing his phone screen with Miles’ name and phone number to Louise, as if to prove a point, or to gloat, or both.

After a few rings, Miles picks up. 

“Hey kiddo.” Greg greets. “Your girlfriend’s drunk. Pick her up.”

Waiting for a snarky comeback from Miles, Greg knowingly and mockingly smiles at Louise with the phone on his ear, making it look like he was hearing things Louise wouldn’t want him to.

“Miles!” Louise yells, in a futile attempt to save face from all the imaginary embarrassing details her drunk mind has assumed Greg had heard. 

“Don’t tell him s**t!” Louise yells supposedly at Miles on the other line, as Greg breaks into laughter. “Tell him and no f**k for a week. I mean it!”

His hands full with rinsing off dishes with his phone tucked between his shoulder and his cheek, Miles could hear Louise’s voice rambling as Greg laughed. He couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but if she was as drunk as Greg says she was, she might have told him about everything that happened the night before, especially if she was really proud of it. 

Greg probably has ten years worth of jokes about it now. And he will probably get more if Louise doesn’t stop running her mouth.  

“Be there in ten.” Miles says, quickly hanging up. 

The tables have turned, I guess. 

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Greg sees Louise about to reach for a bottle of rum in a display of liquor close to her seat by the counter. Instinctively, he reaches for it and snatches it off her hands. 

“Okay, Stevie Nicks. Party’s over. You’ve had enough.” he laughs.

“I have been dragging Miles’ drunk ass out of here my whole life. It’s about time I got back at him for that…” Louise chuckles, before her intoxicated body finally relents and she collapses down the counter. 

Greg pours a glass of water and places it next to the passed out Louise on the counter. 

“Here you go, Lulu. You’re gonna need that.” 

-

Miles arrives at Malcolm's, with a bottle of Gatorade in hand. He looks around for Louise and finds her slumped over the bar, with Greg keeping watch, sarcastically grinning at him.

“Hey boyfriend. Get your girlfriend over here.” Greg calls out with a chuckle.

Miles gives Greg a look of cluelessness, bordering on annoyance. He makes his way to the bar, gently helping Louise off the counter. 

Louise is woken up by the motion, and happily slumps herself over on Miles’ shoulder.

“There he is.” Louise says, in drunken glee. “My hero. My baby boy.”

Tinges of pink quickly make their way on Miles’ checks, while Greg almost doubles over laughing.

“Shut up, Greg.” Miles says, annoyed, yet somewhat amused, stifling a little laughter. As embarrassing as it was, he had to admit, Louise was pretty darn cute when she’s drunk. She had always been always sweet, sure, but not usually in a cute, sickeningly-sweet way when she’s had a few. 

But then again, this was also the reason why he’d always kept an eye on her at parties. Apart from his previously-unaddressed affections for her, he knew there would always be a jerk who’d either take it the wrong way, or take advantage of it. And he would have to be there to make sure they don’t. 

“Look at you lovebirds. Perfect 2000s teen rom com couple. I approve.” Greg mocks, nearly tearing up watching Miles’ attempts at hoisting Louise’s drunk form off the bar stool and onto his shoulder. 

“Suck it, Greg.” Miles says, in a mockingly threatening tone. “If you don’t help me get her home safe, I’m telling Lena.”

The smug look on Greg’s face quickly fades into worry, then into a slight fear, upon hearing Lena’s name. Lena, his best friend of nearly three decades. The only woman in the world who can put him into his place, next to his mother. The only person he’s legitimately afraid of, in a loving sort of way. 

Lena, Louise’s mother, no less. 

“Can you drive home?” Greg asks, his tone back to the usual, as Miles makes his way out of Malcolm’s with a drunken, helpless Louise slumped over his right shoulder. 

“If I had a car, you know damn well I would.”

“Right.”

Greg pulls out his car keys from his pocket. He knew he better get both kids home safe, before Lena unleashes hell on him, even worse than usual. 

“Hey, pops!” Greg calls out to Allan, his trusty bouncer-friend-co-manager. “I’m driving Lena’s kid home. Close up for me, will you?”

“Sure thing, man.” 

Lena flicks through channels on TV, desperate for a nice sitcom to watch. She was never a fan of Netflix, and always preferred the ambiguity among a wide set of options airing on TV, hoping to stumble into a new show she would end up liking, by chance. 

She glanced at her phone. It was a quarter before midnight. Her daughter Louise, still wasn’t home. She taps her phone open and is about to dial up Miles, Louise’s best friend, when the doorbell rings. 

She looks into the peephole and sees three people, all of which familiar to her. Too familiar, perhaps. 

A man her age, with cropped, messy curls, light brown eyes and peach fuzz, in a faded grey t shirt worn under a red flannel shirt, and a taller, much younger man, messy wavy hair and brown eyes a few shades darker than the other’s, with what looks to be a person slumped over his shoulder, wearing a pair of green sneakers that looks strangely like what her daughter wears. 

Lena sighs. Of course. 

She opens the door to a grinning Greg and a somewhat embarrassed Miles, and a passed out Louise slumped over his shoulder. 

“Hey, Len.” Greg greets, with an overeager smile, hoping Lena doesn’t rain fire on him for letting her daughter get so drunk she’s passed out over someone’s shoulder.

“I’m so close to calling the cops on you.” Lena says, stepping aside to make way for Greg and Miles, who enter the apartment quietly. 

“I’m sorry, Lena.” Miles apologizes, now carrying Louise like his new bride, gently laying her down the couch. 

“Oh, no sweetie.” Lena says, cupping both sides of Miles’ face in her hands. “Not you. Him.” she says, her sweet demeanor to Miles slipping into a mock-disappointment, gesturing to Greg leaning by her kitchen counter, already eyeing the coffee machine.

“Hey, I never got past five.” Greg says, defensively, grabbing a mug from the mug tree in one hand, and reaching for the coffee pot with the other. “I put my foot down like a real uncle.”

“Then why is she passed out?” Lena asks, as Miles makes himself comfortable on the floor, sitting by the side of the couch, leaning by Louise, who, to his surprise, turns out to be half-awake. 

“Hey.” Louise says, cupping Miles’ cheek with her hand.

“Hey.” Miles says, with a soft smile, giving Louise’s hand on his cheek a loving squeeze. “I’ve got news for you.”

“What? That you love me?”

“You know that already, though.” 

Louise laughs heartily. Well, she did know.

She looks at him. He had this small, seemingly hesitant smile on his face, a smile a person would make if they’re unsure of what to say. A smile Miles makes when he just doesn’t know what to do, and probably needs her help. 

“You won, didn’t you?” Louise asks, a silly smile on her face, her drunk state obviously unaware of the magnitude of the topic. 

“Yeah.” is all Miles could say. He’s proud, sure, but he knows he’s equal parts scared, too.

“I told you, you’d be a rockstar.” says Louise, grabbing Miles’ hand, pulling him closer to her, hoping to give him the congratulatory kiss he deserves, but failing and giving him a small kiss on the nose instead. 

“I’m so proud of you, egghead.”

“I thought I was ‘babe’?”

“Since day one.”

“Cheeseball.”

“You love it.”

“She ordered rum coke, Len. What did you expect?” Greg says, with a half-hearted chuckle, pouring himself a cup of coffee as Lena stood across him, arms folded. “Plus, it’s Malcolm’s. You know she’ll be safe there. I keep watch on her all the time. She’s family.”

“She’s young.” Greg says, with a small, soft smile, doing his best to be reassuring. “Let her be young. I’ll look after her, like I always do.” 

Lena returns the small smile, reaching behind Greg, grabbing a cup for herself. She couldn’t help but be a tad too protective of her only daughter, whom she had raised and cared for all by herself. But she knew Greg loved her like a sister, and he was with her through it all, from the moment Louise was born, up until she began ordering drinks in his own bar with a fake ID. 

Greg may be a bunch of other things unsavory to some, but he was always a man of his word, and she, of all people, knew that very well. 

She stands next to him by the kitchen counter, quietly sipping her coffee. Her eyes land on the couch, where Louise was lying, and sees Miles sitting on the floor next to her, with her arm around him, her other hand playing with his hair. While Miles was a permanent fixture in their household and he and Louise have always been close, she has never seen them this close.  

Greg notices her looking at Louise and Miles and their sudden closeness. He laughs, startling Lena. 

“What is going on with those two?” Lena asks. 

“Well, I guess they stopped being idiots and just went for it.” Greg replies, casually taking a sip of his coffee.

“Good for them.” says Lena, placing her half empty coffee cup on the counter next to Greg. 

“How about you?”

“What?”

“When do you stop being an i***t?”