The Bartender

10

Insufferable people and packing were the two things I absolutely hated the most but the longer I stood here in my somewhat empty room, I was beginning to think my hate for packing outweighed dealing with insufferable people.

Because you can ignore insufferable human stains, sorry, human beings (unless if you worked with them, yes I’m talking about you Don Pearson) but packing on the other hand, well…as much as you ignore, procrastinate, you still need to do it either way because one way or another you’d need all your s**t in one place.

I still had two weeks before I went back to work and I was already dreading the pile of floor plans vying for my attention or even the touch of my pen. In all honesty, I was hoping my project would be handed to Pitkowski instead because for one, I knew the Wellington project was a dangerous task to begin with and two, it wouldn’t be my fault if s**t goes south just because Don Pearson wouldn’t listen to what I had to say about structural safety.

And there was Max who’s advancing a grade real soon in a few months and there was so much I had to learn on how to raise a child all on my own. I mean, come on, no one told me I would be a mom in my early 20’s.

My body jerked slightly at the sudden feather light touch against my bare, lower back—I was dressed in a workout bra and full length yoga pants. “Clearly you were overthinking once again if you didn’t hear me knock on the door twice.” Judah said, observing the huge pile of clothes I had thrown out on my bed carelessly.

“I don’t know where to start on these.” I sighed quietly, squeezing the sides of my temples with two fingers. Judah and I stood in front of my clothes, eyes squinting as if trying to analyze and make a deduction of the careless pile; he turned and looked at me. “Women always say they have nothing to wear yet they fail to mention they own a large department store at home.”

“And that is why I’m planning to donate half of this pile.” I argued.

“Why? Just so you could get more?” he raised a brow, and I rolled my eyes—it was my natural retort whenever we’re around each other. “Oh Judah, stop putting ideas into my head.”

“You were, weren’t you?” he smiled blandly, sifting through my lingerie that now grabbed his attention. I snatched away a black piece that he held up, observing the intricate lace. What? Just because I spend most of my nights in bed alone doesn’t mean I can’t dress as such. I swear he was pouting slightly as he watched the little black number disappear into my luggage.

“I wasn’t going to until you suggested it.” I said as a matter-of-factly. “Anyway, why are you here? Weren’t you doing some art and craft stuff with Max?”

“She fell asleep minutes ago, I came up here thinking you’d need my help.” He said almost innocently. “You’ve done enough in the last couple of weeks.” I smiled apologetically at him, dumping the pile of fancy clothes into a box that I was about to give away—most of it I only ever wore once and it was at a cocktail work event where I had a grand time forcing myself to smile and pretend I liked everyone I worked with.

“I think I took way too much of your time when you could be coming up with another funky drink on your menu.”  I added, watching him pick up a hot pink fedora, eyeing the fashion piece distastefully, trying to figure out where the hell I could have possibly worn that to. 

“Didn’t know you and Barbie were cousins…” he said nonchalantly, shrugging carelessly as he did. “Give me that.” I snatched the hat and stuffed it along with the other party dresses in the box. “All that cartoon watching with Max is making you sassier and more sarcastic than you ever were.”

“Blame Peppa the Pig. That pig is obnoxiously exasperating to her family members. She ought to start reflecting on herself.” 

I snorted derisively, sealing the flaps of the box with one hand, pressing against it as I looked around for tape but was soon handed to by Judah before I could even ask. I swear, sometimes the fact that this man could read my mind so easily is somewhat terrifying. The deductions, the unfiltered conversations that we had as strangers then friends, the countless nights of ‘babysitting’ a grieving adult…

Judah took a step towards me and lowered his head so that he was able to look me in the eye. “Ronnie, are you alright?” 

I nodded then shook my head right after, shoulder sagging tiredly. “Packing up my home completely seals the fact that all this is happening and that all of this is real.” I lifted a hand, emphasizing the somewhat empty, hollow space I used to call my room. 

“I’m about to go through another huge life transition that I’ve made absolutely no preparations for. I can’t help but feel utterly helpless and useless and maybe I’m not as responsible as everyone thinks I am and I most certainly can’t raise a child all on my own with no help coming from my mother who suffers a mental breakdown every 5 minutes.” I heaved a heavy breath and paused, feeling absurd that I had yet once again, broken into a self-pity rant in reply to such a simple question. 

“You must think I’m weak, don’t you?” I quickly said, attempting to laugh it off but that didn’t seem amusing to either of us. “If this whole situation were to happen to someone else, I reckon they’d do a much better job than I.”

He remained silent for what felt like an eternity, his arms extended as they slowly reached out to bring me into his arms—his embrace. The gesture felt so effortless—it was as if he was molded just for me. I exhaled quietly and melted in his arms, allowing my thoughts to wander as I joined him in stillness.

“I never saw you as weak, Veronica.” He began. I listened quietly with bated breath. “Although you may have an emotional range of a taco shell…” he trailed. “Judah…” I dragged my tone, feeling his chuckles reverberating through his chest. “I was just pulling your leg.” He said quickly to atone his statement.

“I won’t pretend and say that I understand wholly what you’re going through right now--the grief, the pain and loneliness that follows. As of now, you’re in a vulnerable state where you begin to question everything, even your very existence but asking questions that certainly does not make you weak, if anything, it makes you stronger because you’re processing your feelings little by little but in the midst of doing so, you shouldn’t give yourself the room to doubt your abilities and strengths in a moment of weakness.”

“And as for parenting…” he trailed, pondering thoughtfully before piecing his sentences together.  “I think you’re doing just fine.”

“I brought a child to a bar on a weekday and then got pissed drunk, that doesn’t exactly scream responsibility to me.” I drawled, looking up as my chin pointed against his chest. “Hey, that’s on me. I was the one with the invite.” He looked down at me and grinned—a rather charming, boyish grin I might say.

“Max had always loved hanging out with you, heck, I bet she’s spent a greater chunk of her 'toddlerhood'—if that’s even a word, hanging out with her cool aunt and crazy best friend—Aunt Jackie—sorry, sometimes that woman terrorizes me more than you do...please don’t tell Jackie I said so.”

I laughed at that one.

“Anyway, maybe you weren’t exactly parenting Max then but you were there for her in person, physically even when she needed and wanted to be around you. So trust me when I say the only thing that matters is that you love Max and she loves you. Whoever said parenting was a walk in a park can stay in Bikini bottom.”

“Bikini who?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Where SpongeBob lives for crying out—was that the only thing you got out of all that?” 

“Course not, I heard every word you said.” I smiled to myself. “I just didn’t want to ruin the moment by throwing in my own two cents.” I buried myself once more under his chin, my cheek pressing against his chest. Being in his arms felt normal, it felt almost natural even—it was as if this spot was made just for me.

“What moment?” he questioned; I swear, even without looking up, I knew he had a mischievous smile on his face, clearly he had made it his life’s mission to annoy the living hell out of me. “Well, it’s not every day you hear the rude Bartender saying nice things to you, better savor that moment, no?”

“Let this moment be known and may it go down in history because this could be the last time you’ll ever hear me sing praises about you Ronnie.” He said in a gratified tone. I groaned in annoyance. We both chuckled.

“The amount of confidence you have in me is almost laughable.” I muttered. 

“I meant every word I said.” He said faintly.

He tilted his head and bent his neck whereby his lips and nose were pressed against the shell of my ear inhaling my scent discreetly; my eyes softened as I felt my lips parted slightly in the sudden affectionate gesture.  Pulling back ever so gently, he fixed his gaze on me and I looked up, my eyes wordlessly questioned the sudden withdrawal of his warmth. The moment his eyes darted towards my lips then back to my face, I knew. Or at least, I had an inkling what was about to take place. My stomach churned wildly as if it were a thunderstorm forming from within my gut.

I can’t say I hadn’t realized the proximity between us was little to none, we were inches away from each other’s lips and my heart was palpitating rapidly against my rib cage as his fingertips increased its pressure on the either side of my lower back, my bare skin reacted to the heat that radiated from him. His upper lip gently grazed against mine as if testing the waters and it took whatever remnant of self-control I had in me not to pull him closer and beg him to take me on the bed that was just a ballerina’s twirl behind us.

“Aunt Ronnie!” Max cried, rubbing her eyes with a fist. The sudden cry caused me to jump a little and Judah to take a step back, shaking his head as if he were in a trance. 

“Yes sweet…Max…darling?” my words came out garbled the moment my eyes landed on an unmistakable bulge in someone’s jeans. “I need to pee.” Ronnie continued. Judah cleared his throat and looked around for something. “These need to be packed too?” he asked blithely, pointing to the bunch of clothes on the floor. “Uh yes, thank you.” I said, trying not to choke up on a mere simple word. 

“You’re welcome.” Judah said genially and Max looked back and forth between the both of us. There’s a toddler in the house, just what were the both of you thinking?

“Come on Max.” I said hastily, reaching for the toddler and didn’t look back even once.

**

It was nine thirty—late into the evening when Judah had long left for the bar and it would be hours before I saw him next. Maybe it was a good thing we had some time apart after the little incident that happened back at my place. One little careless move from either party would have risked something much greater.

Earlier that evening, we had both driven separate cars and took as many boxes as we could with us—the rest would be delivered to the new place tomorrow morning. I made a quick, simple dinner for Max and I—ribbon pasta and meatballs and after, I occupied the little one with some coloring while I busied myself unpacking the rest of my things before my mind wandered back to the look in Judah’s eyes.

Watching the toddler sticking out her tongue in full concentration while the crayon moved back and forth swiftly on the large piece of paper roll that stuck to the IKEA drawing table that Judah had brought her, I felt a tidal wave of emotions surging. Max resembled Kat in so many ways it hurt to even look at her sometimes. 

Max yawned, the crayon in her little hand slowed in movement as her eyelids began drooping. “Baby, are you tired?” I asked, watching her as I unwrapped the bubble wrap of the last of my wine glasses and placed it along with the rest of the glasses on the marble counter.

“Do I have to go to school tomorrow, Aunt Ronnie?” she asked quietly. “Yes, you do, sweetheart.”

“Why? Can’t I just stay with you at home?” she pouted. I almost relented but I had to be firm about my decisions. 

 “Sweetheart, I’m sure if you don’t show up, your friends and teachers would miss you dearly and you need to hand in your homework too, remember?”

“But…” she thought for a bit, her little brows knitted together as they furrowed. “Okay.” She said slowly. “I have a question, Aunt Ronnie.” She continued. “You know you can ask me anything.” I said.

“Now that I don’t have a mommy and daddy and that they’re gone, would that make me just like Amy?” she asked, looking at me reservedly. 

I closed the flaps of the now empty box and moved over to where she sat—on her knees because she claims she didn’t want to be a baby anymore seated in a high chair. If there was one person who could get her into a high chair, it was the sly bartender who won her heart.

“What do you mean just like Amy?” I asked, slightly befuddled as to who and what she was talking about. “Amy’s parents are gone too and they haven’t come to see her at all. A kid called her an orphan and she cried.” She clarified.  I knelt on my knees just so I could look at her at an eye level as they searched hers imploringly.

“Uncle Judah said mommy and daddy have gone some place far, so does that make me an orphan too?”

My heart broke at those very words and I could feel my eyes watering, an unmistakable ball of pain formed at the very back of my throat. I could see the sadness in her eyes and I summoned all the willpower I had left in me and took Max’s little hands in mine. “Max.” I said quietly. “You’re not an orphan, I assure you. Even if mommy and daddy aren’t here, you still got me, Aunt Jackie, Grandma Poppy and well, Uncle Judah too. I hope you realize you’ve got a lot of people who love you and want to be a part of your life.”

“How much do you love me then, Aunt Ronnie?”

I thought for a bit before rising to my feet, holding out my hand for Max. She took it without much hesitation. “Come on Max, let’s go outside, I want to show you something.” 

We stood on the verandah and I looked up to the open sky. “Max, can you tell me what is up in the night sky?” I asked gently. Her little head tilted; her eyes sparkled in reflection of the magnificent cloudless, peaceful oblivion above us.

“I see stars, Aunt Ronnie.”

“Are you able to count them?” I pressed on gently. “Um, okay. One, two, three, four…”her counting became softer and softer. She tugged at my oversized shirt, looking up at me. “Aunt Ronnie, I don’t think I’m really good at math. There are so many stars and I don’t think I can count them all. But, why are we counting them?” 

“You asked me how much I loved you Max.” I said quietly, taking a seat on the wooden planked boards; Max did the same but chose the spot on my lap and sunk her frame back into my chest, willing me to wrap my arms around her little frame.

I took a deep breath as I gathered my thoughts—tell her the truth about how you feel about her Veronica, there’s nothing wrong admitting to a child that adults aren’t all that perfect and put together as they seem.

“I’ll have to admit, I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a child fulltime and I don’t know what it takes to be a guardian to you. But do know this, as long as you’re under my care, I promise to do my best to take care of you and I’ll be here for you every step of the way—watching you grow. Although, there’ll come a time where we won’t always agree with each other, maybe there will be yelling involved even but I promise you, no matter what happens, it won’t change the fact that I love you so, so much—“ I tilted her chin with my index finger gently so I could get a good look at her; she blinked. “Just like the stars above us that neither I can count—I love you that much Maxine.” 

“I like staying with you Aunt Ronnie.”

“I like staying with you too, sweet pea.” I caressed her cheek gently; she surprised me further by throwing her little arms around my neck and whispered. “I love you Aunt Ronnie, as much as the stars in the sky.”