The Bartender

16

I wasn’t sure if the warm fuzzy feeling I was relishing was due to the fact that we were in the middle of nature’s finest or that I had Judah and Max with me seated on the foldable chairs that Jackie had brought us this morning whilst nursing on hot cocoa, admiring the tent we had struggled to put up (which took us almost an hour) because someone was adamant that he had the whole manual memorized like the back of his hand.

My experience on my first camping trip went something like this—getting stabbed by a tent pole in the stomach, tripped over the canvas fabric twice (I don’t think I’d ever put up another tent without a manual), two adults losing a child in what supposedly looked like a tent. Oh, did I mention I was this close to skewering Judah with one of the many tent poles if I heard another ‘Don’t worry, I can handle this’?

I was quite positive that if I were to look at Judah’s list of accomplishments on LinkedIn, I might even find despicable-know-it-all written amongst his many portfolios.

We listened to our surroundings in silence, almost as if we were holding our breaths as we paid attention to the bubbling sounds of the stream as it seeped and snaked past the timeworn rocks, how the leaves rustled against one another when a soft breeze blew past, creating soft howling echoes through the dense forest.

“Um, Aunt Ronnie…what are we doing?”

Right, moment over.

“Hm?” I shifted my attention from the book I was reading—a random book about humans’ deepest thoughts penned out in written poetry that I randomly plucked out of my sisters’ bookshelf before leaving earlier today.

Judah seemed to snap out of his trance from staring at the ground for a bit too long. His head turned toward Max and he gestured to her to come over to him. She did, as quickly as her little feet could carry her. He then knelt, with one knee on the ground and picked a smooth grey pebble, dusting the specks of dirt and sand off its surface.

“What are you doing with that rock, Uncle Judah?” she asked curiously, resting a small hand against his right bicep for stability, peering closely at the pebble. “Stone skipping.” He revealed, tossing the stone up in the air and catching it with impeccable speed.

Ah, the classic yet seemingly impossible talent.

“The stone needs to be flat and round.” He explained to Max. “Like this.” He flipped the rock over in his palm, allowing her to observe the hard object. She leaned in and smoothed a finger on the surface as if to test out the theory she was told.

“The flat area like this stone here will create a bounce when it hits on water.” He made a bouncing motion with his other hand, ruffling her wind-tossed hair.

“Can you get it to bounce on water?” Max asked, looking all excited, motioning toward the stream in front of us.

“Yes, Uncle Judah.” I winked. “Let’s see what you have got.”

He cleared his throat and gave me a proud look before unfolding his posture to stand upright. “Watch and learn how the pros do it.”

“That’s what you said right before poking me with a tent pole earlier.” I mumbled. Judah must have heard that because he pulled a face before winking at me. I pressed my lips into a thin line, suppressing a smile.

Max was beyond delighted; her eyes lit up as she cheered, clapping loudly. “Alright Max, stand back and watch me closely.”

He bent his arm and did a few mock throws toward the flowing stream, he then angled his feet in such a way that would allow him to get a good balance and strength before he tossed. With a low grunt, he flung the rock gracefully and it successfully…fell into the stream with a soft plop.

Crickets chirped in a distance and birds squawked in mockery. I suppressed a laugh, biting down real hard on my lip.

“Ohh.” Max looked at the sunken rock pitifully.

“I’m still waiting for that pro to show up.” I put my hand in a mock salute, shielding my eyes from the imaginary bright sunrays.

“Your aunt is a real Peppa.” Judah told Max and she giggled, earning a glare thrown in his direction. “I swear I’m revoking your TV privileges, Judah. No more cartoons, especially Peppa and her piggy friends.”

“Again!” Max cried.

Judah then proceeded to pick up another pebble, unwilling to give up on his first failed attempt. “I’ll get it right this time.” He growled and tossed it once more.

A soft splash and down it went, the pebble sank to rest with the rest of its cousins.

“Maybe read the instruction manual this time.” I tried my best not to laugh at Max’s disappointed look which the toddler did not even bother to hide anymore.

“That’s alright, third time’s the charm!” he announced as he picked up another pebble, kissing it after cleaning it and probably added a little silent prayer, hoping this time he'd succeed. Max cheered, though a little less enthusiastic than she was the first time.

It sounded like ‘ya-uhh’

“Come up Judy! You’ve got this!” I decided I'd be a little more supportive and a little less of an asshole, fisting my fingers into a half-hearted cheer. Suddenly, as if a lightbulb went off above his head and a brilliant idea followed. He then, turned toward me, a big fat grin formed on his lips. “You owe me a date if I get this rock to skip even just for once.”

Max whipped her head around so fast, mimicking the expression on Judah’s face, as if she knew what ‘date' even meant. A little voice told me, if this kid knew what ‘camping’ meant, what made me think she didn’t know what a ‘date’ meant?

I pushed that thought to the very back of my brain, attempting the most placid look I could muster though my pulse was pounding harder than ever on the sides of my temples. This was dangerous, I thought. What if he really did get the stone to skip even just once? Does this mean I’d have to spend actual time with him knowing what the real agenda was?

What if he fails once more? Would I be bummed out if I didn’t get to go on that date with him?

“Not so smart-mouthed anymore, are we?”

Clearing my throat discreetly, I folded my arms and looked at him nonchalantly. “I just didn’t want to shake your newly-found optimism. But what I can promise you, is that I’d lend you a shoulder to cry on if you, well, end up like your two other tries.” I nodded toward my shoulder for emphasis.

“Max, come here.” He beckoned her to come over to him. “What? You need back up now?” I raised a brow.

He bent his back and whispered something into Max’s ear. My inquisitive ass wanted to inch closer to eavesdrop on what the two cohorts had to say, but I held myself back knowing I’d eventually get it out of Judah; Judah’s eyes darted toward me for a fleeting moment—his eyes held such softness in them and the idea that the expression alone was meant for me made my lips tremble for just a second.

Max’s little hand flew to her mouth, stifling a grin and nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah guys. That’s real mature, really. So, now you two have secrets you can’t let me in on?” I folded my arms, pouting, eyes narrowing at them both. “Sorry Aunt Ronnie, we can’t tell you what it is yet.” Max did a little happy dance on the spot and grabbed a fistful of Judah’s pant leg, gesturing him with a sweep of her arm to toss the pebble already.

“It’s not so much as a secret per se. I’d like to tell you more about it but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Uncle Judah, hurry!”

“Yes princess, Uncle Judah’s got a lot on his plate having to deal with a restless lady dragon behind us.”

“Just who do you think you’re calling a—”

Everything else I had intended to say was dispelled at the back of my throat. It all happened so fast—the pebble threaded over the water surface thrice, Max squealing as she was picked up and spun around, the two of them sharing a knowing look before turning to me.

Somewhere, deep in the pits of my stomach were a crew of acrobats doing a bunch of summersaults as I watched the duo cheering excitedly. A wave of familiarity swept over me, reeling me in towards him the longer we locked eyes.

I suppose now would be the perfect time to figure out what I want to wear on our first date.

Either way, even if he lost, there was a chance I would still have gone out with him.

**

I had just put Max down for a nap after the snack we had—ham and cheese sandwiches. She did whine a little at my initial attempt when I tucked her in, but I figured I’d hold her in my arms for a bit and take her back outside whilst singing her favorite lullaby—You are my Sunshine.

That song worked its magic on Max and even I felt my eyes were closing with every step I took thereafter. Her cheek leaned against my shoulder as she stared aimlessly into the forest, blinking very slowly and gradually, her lids began to droop.

Just as I turned to get a good look at her, Judah gave me a thumbs up as if to tell me she was already asleep. Crawling out of the tent and casting one last look to make sure Max was tucked in snuggly, I joined Judah on the empty seat next to him.

“Have you ever thought of having kids?” the question rolled off my tongue before I could even think it over. “Yes of course.” He said almost immediately.

“Why?” I figured, since I had already blurted out a personal question, what’s another right?

He turned his attention toward me and that action itself made my heart flutter, it made me sit up a little straighter. “My family isn’t perfect but it was everything I treasured. I wasn’t the oldest nor the middle child—I was the baby of the family.” He said somewhat sulkily, lips pressing into a small pout and brows furrowed.

I smiled, pressing my chin into my knuckles as I peered at him.

“What?”

“I didn’t peg you to be the youngest.”

“It had its perks.” He assured me with a grin. When my brow raised, he took the signal to further explain. “I had an older brother who was much older than I am, then it was my sister, then finally, me. My parents were away a lot back then, so it was my brother who had to watch us. That man stood out from the rest of his friends—he’d bring us both to his basketball matches, cooked for my sister and I, he even hosted regular games or movie nights with us. Honestly, kids his age deemed younger siblings were like pests, but not my brother, though we could be a handful sometimes. And no one in school dared to bully either of us because they all knew who my brother was—we were basically untouchable.”

I watched that little grin fade, his eyes were hollow as if he were recalling a bad memory that he never wanted to speak of again. “My brother was my hero.” He nodded, as if to remind himself in case he were to ever forget. “Taught me everything I needed to know, he helped shape me into the person I would become.”

“Judah, you said you had an older brother.” I said softly, my voice barely a whisper and I was afraid to continue. A fleeting look of sadness stirred within his eyes, but when he blinked, it was gone just as quickly. Judah had never spoken about his family at all. I had no clue what they were like or who they were. But he knew mine. A delusional mother, a recently deceased sister and brother-in-law, an abandoned niece…

“You heard right.” He smiled tightly. “I had a brother but he passed away—brain tumor. He was only 18 when he left us.”

I put a hand over his that rested on the arm of the chair, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” I breathed. He shook his head and looked at me with such softness in his eyes—as if to tell me it was alright. We did have something in common—the departure of a loved one.

“Kids, siblings, family…they’re a gift whether you like it or not. “It’s what my brother used to say. When everything else seems to be falling apart, when all else fails, at least you know you’ve got one good thing going.”

He turned his hand so that his palm was facing towards mine, his fingers intertwined so naturally with mine, sprigs of warmth shot through my skin and all the way to my stomach, sitting there, churning, waiting to be acknowledged.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Maxwell, but we all called him Max.”

There's a first time for everything and mine was camping. Judah made sure he gave Max and I the full camping experience and that included cooking outdoors. Max and I were tasked to look for rocks and some sticks so that Judah could make a fire (no idea how he did so) but in no time, he got a fire started.

As I lathered butter on the buns I halved, I listened to the story Judah was narrating rather animatedly—the story of the three little pigs to Max, who was listening attentively, all huddled up in her blankie that Judah had packed for her. Funny thing is, the more I listened, the more confused I got. I was a hundred percent sure that this version of the three little pigs was a far cry from what I was told all my life.

“So, when the town heard that Mr. Wolf—the bachelor was looking for a wife, so the three little piglets rushed off to the store to look for the prettiest dresses they could find just to impress Mr. Wolf.”

“What’s a ba—ba…” Max rocked back and forth in her chair, her short, little feet dangling in the air.

Sensing what she had wanted to ask, Judah explained patiently. “A bachelor means an unmarried man.”

“Like yourself?” Max's ears perked.

“Uhh…well sweetheart…” Judah shifted his gaze from Max and looked at me pleadingly for help. Well, technically he was married once, so I wasn’t quite sure how we would go about explaining that term when it came to a 3-year-old, because answering a question merely led to more questions and, truthfully, I was unprepared for that. I mean, it did take us some time to work our way around with words to replace cusses whenever we were around Max—it was hard work.

“A beauty pageant? With pigs in it?” I made a wishy-washy sound. “Whoever told you those pigs were female?”

Calculation danced across his face and a brow raised, “Whoever told you those pigs had to be boys?”

Scoffing, I defended. “Ever heard the phrase ‘men are pigs’? I suppose that’s how everyone naturally came to a definite conclusion that these said pigs were to be written in a male’s persona.”

“When you say everyone, were you exclusively referring to your fellow female writers or just yourself, darling?” he applied more pressure on a beef patty, causing the meat to sizzle harshly where a mixture of animal fat and juice seeped out prevalently. The warm glow of the fire cast a shadow on the highest points of his face and that made him look more intimidating.

With the blunt side of the butter knife, I tapped my chin thoughtfully, playing it cool although he had just called me darling in front of Max. “Trust me Judah, female writers would have more to say about men than portraying them as pigs alone—that’s how vast our characterization of the male population are and you, my friend, are clearly underestimating our abilities in creativity.” I pointed the blunt end of the knife at him, making my point. “Try not to get on our bad side and maybe, just maybe you won’t end up like another character of a children’s book, say The Grinch?”

“I like the Grinch, he seems nice.” Max quipped and Judah smirked, looking triumphant “Atta girl.”

During that week when I was recuperating from my unprecedented leg injury, I finished the entire book Jackie had got me some time ago—Mommy and me. One of the chapters mentioned sensory learning for toddlers helps stimulate and support growth development. Allowing them to touch and feel everyday items (provided that they're safe) could do wonders in sharpening their independence and stirring up curiosity.

For starters, I let Max build her own mini cheeseburger. She grabbed the washed lettuces with all five fingers, eyeing the leafy greens curiously before putting them down again, picking up another until she'd decided.

“Sensory stimulation, huh?” Judah said quietly. Surprise took over as I wondered how he knew what I was thinking, but I decided not to question.

I nodded as we watched her stubby fingers picking up one cherry tomato before reaching for another again. “Yeah, apparently that helps with a child’s development.”

“She’s a smart one, this kid.”

“She’s picking up real fast,” I agreed.

The adults obviously had more toppings—a portobello mushroom each, bacon, caramelized onions, cheddar—ingredients Judah had meticulously washed, chopped up and prepared before coming over this morning. I swore I could hear Jackie’s voice speaking in my head ‘A man who can cook is a man you’d want to wed’

Her words, not mine.

With dinner out of the way, roasted marshmallows and bedtime stories begin.

We usually took turns telling Max bedtime stories. Most of them were read from the many books my sister had bought her and tonight was a story about a stray cat who had no home. This stray cat travelled far and wide, seeking shelter from whatever it could find—be it the junk yard, thrown-out paper boxes, under cars, atop roofs, but none of which made him feel at home.

Until one day, a woman saw him as she was on her way home one day. The woman seemed to be sad, though he knows not why. In her hand was a small carton of milk which she was holding on to. Splitting open the carton, she gave him every drop of the milk, patted him and left after. The woman’s random act of kindness stole his heart, for no one had even taken the time to do what she did because he was a stray.

The cat soon came to realize the woman took the same route home each day, so he waits for her at the same spot. And when she did walk past, it gave her a little meow. Some days, she’d acknowledged him through tear-filled eyes, other days with the smallest hint of a smile, and today, she was laughing. God only knows what this woman was going through, but today, she seemed stronger than the last.

I never knew the end of the story because I was busy staring at the storyteller whose lap held a sleepy 3-year-old while the story progressed.

The cat in the story felt very much like me. For years, I felt like I was drifting neither here nor there. I felt like I never truly belonged. My once perfect life turned dysfunctional; I survived the greater half of my younger days all on my own. The relationships which I thought could bring some form of comfort and hopefully fill some holes in my heart left me more broken than ever.

Then, there was my demanding job, then my sister died and now I have a child to care for.

And then a stranger comes along unexpectedly. He wasn’t perfect, he was far from that. Our first meeting was a bust. He was rather cold and obnoxious and I, well, wasn’t any better. But that man was bluntly honest, he made me question a bunch of things I was too afraid to ask myself. He made me confront myself with things I had been afraid of all my life—big and small alike. He taught me how to love myself in his own weird way, unexpected of anything in return.

Being around him made me want to do things differently—I wanted to be better, for myself, for Max, for the people around me. Unrationalized fear had stopped me from doing so. For so long, I thought I would never be able to overcome the past hurt, the grief and bad experiences, but I realized, there wasn’t much attempt on my part. I didn’t take the time to process things, I merely avoided it.

“Max is asleep now and she'll look for you soon if she stirs.” Judah climbed out of the tent as silently as he could. When he stood upright, I met him face to face. None of us spoke at first. Standing on my tippy toes, my hands reached for both sides of his neck and hugged him.

“Thank you.” I said, a soft whisper that barely left my lips. I wasn’t expecting anything in return, so as I was about to release my arms to join Max in the tent, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, deepening the embrace as his nose buried into my hair.

There and then, an unspeakable sense of warmth spread from the crown of my head, down my neck and dissipated throughout my entire being.

We stood there for what felt like an eternity until, very slowly, he said, “No. Thank you, your existence alone brought me life in more ways than you can ever imagine.”