A Quarter Life

Second One

Mike woke up, the rejoices, the whiskey, it all faded away. He was exhausted, perplexed, but lively.

Who was this Charles? He felt very familiar with him, very trustworthy to him.

Mike couldn’t understand, why was he referring him as Reeve?

What were they rejoicing about? Where was that tent?

He looked at his unfinished coffee. It had the same question, over and over again. He couldn’t feel anything else, just the rejoice.

He looked at the time, it was dawn again.

He used to see armies when he was young, how young? 6 or 7 years old young.

Then, he would wake up early everyday. There was an army camp, a small camp, beside his home. He never asked his parents why they were there. He would wake up, take the brush, and would go to the lawn to see them. He would brush, and look at them. He liked the pale green camouflage dress. Sometimes he would see them alone, sometimes they would also look at him. He would salute them, happily. They would be very happy with that salute. They would often salute back.

One day, the camp was not there. He cried that night, cried a lot. He didn’t remember those faces. He tried to remember them often, but couldn’t.

The unfinished coffee knew his intentions. It knew, he needed some whiskey.

The Farragut Booze was quite empty, as usual in this lockdown. He entered the bar with a neutral face. The same old song was playing, a soothing guitar tune, but it didn’t pacify him.

He sat at a corner table, putting his overcoat aside. He could see every faces from there, countable drunk customers.

He leaned towards the chair. His head was in enormous pain.

Jenny came to him, 'So Mr. Ronald, what is on the drink list today?'

Mike looked at her. She looked gorgeous, he could praise her with all his breaths.

Mike grinned, 'I reckon I would like a bottle of freshly arrived Bourbon, by the hand of a gorgeous lady like you.'

She was surprised, 'Maybe I heard you wrong, you asked for a full bottle?'

He smiled, 'Yes, please.'

She went away. He looked at the old guy, sitting in the front table. The guy was having beer. He could tell by the fragrance, he was drinking Chang, a slurpy beer. He tasted it once, the taste was like a reptile skin. The guy was drinking it, like it was a immortality nectar to him.

Jenny came with a bottle. The bottle of Bourbon looked fresh, like a newborn. He took the bottle, 'Will I have the opportunity, to have your company, over a glass of Bourbon, Ms. Hoffman?'

Jenny knew, he was confined in secrets. She said, 'My pleasure, Mr. Ronald.'

Jenny sat aside. He took the bottle of Bourbon, stood up. Jenny couldn’t understand anything. He held the bottle in right hand, put the left hand underneath it. And, like the dreams, he started shaking the bottle. He shook it, like there was the same bright sky, like Charles was there, drinking a can of Chang, like he was the bartender, and Jenny was the customer. He opened the bottle and poured the Bourbon in a glass. He said, 'You first, ma'am.'

Jenny took a sip. The foamy sip was worth the waiting. He could feel the satisfaction through Jenny.

He sat again on his seat.

Jenny asked, 'So, what is today? I am eager to hear, Mr. Ronald.'

Taking a sip, he said, 'I had a dream.'

Jenny sighed, 'I think that story is familiar. You may have forget, but I was there in your appointment with the doctor.'

Mike smiles, 'I never forgot that. This time, this was another dream. I wasn’t under a rock. Rather, I was rejoicing. The sky was unbelievably bright. There was a guy, named Charles. I was rejoicing with him. I can clearly remember his face.'

Jenny was tensed, 'Mike, are you okay?'

Mike couldn’t say anything, he knew he wasn’t okay.

He said, 'I'd rather say I am curious. But I need your help.'

Jenny asked, 'Surely, if that makes you calm. How can I help?'

He said, 'I am distracted right now. But I have to make a report, and submit it to the newspaper team. So I can't do researches on my dream. I want you to find a man named Charles, ever existed in US army.'

Jenny laughed, 'You know? Charles is a pretty common name in the States. I may get thousands of results.'

Mike stood up, took his overcoat, 'Then try to search a Charles in US army, who was with a man named Reeve in the same batch.'

He started walking towards the door. Jenny asked, 'And now, who is Reeve?'

Walking, he said, 'In the dream, I was Reeve.'

'Hickory Dickory Doc

The mouse ran up the clock'

The song meant nothing to him. He looked at the clock, it was nearly midnight. But he was sleepless. The clock had no mouse, he knew there was no mouse.

He tried to sleep, but he had no sleep up in his sleeves. He could count every air droplets in this environment, still couldn't sleep. He could become a sleep ghost, deprived of sleeps, deprived of anything.

His phone rang. He felt disturbed. He threw his phone on the sofa.

He couldn’t find anything to do. He was alone, all alone. He couldn’t face his own shadows, in disgust.

He tried to sleep, he closed his eyes. He could see the air droplets, angry, distressed, ready to haunt. He tried to avoid them.

He fell asleep.

He woke up seconds after. He saw a dystopia, in those seconds. He saw dead bodies being stacked up, he saw the nature being rotten, he saw the end.

He went to the washroom. He needed to clear his mind. He looked himself in the mirror. He was exhausted, he was fed up. He couldn’t run away from these. He needed a solution, an enormous solution, a long lasting solution.

He went to his room. His phone was still on the sofa.

He picked up the phone. There were 48 missed calls from Jenny. He couldn’t remember why he threw the phone aside.

He called her back.

She picked up

- Mike, are you all right?

- Y-Yeah, why?

- Why? What why? You weren't picking up the phone. What should I assume?

- You should assume that I was in a deep sleep.

- Yeah? You can be in deep sleep? You want me to believe that?

- Okay okay, I was distracted, I was submitting my report.

- Okay. So, I got your research done. There were three 'Charles's in US army history, with any 'Reeve' in their batch. I have sent a mail, with each one's report and address.

- Ah, Janet. Thanks, thanks a lot, I mean that.

- I know you meant that. Okay, see you at bar tomorrow.

He couldn’t say 'I love you' to her, he couldn’t even utter the name 'Jenny'. But, he had to lie to her. He hadn’t any reports to make. He just wanted to her to be involved, involved in his life.

He saw the mail.

He couldn’t forget the face, that face. He remembered everything. The smile, the grin, the sip, the blabbering, everything. He saw him again, in the report.

Name? Charles McCourt. Joined army during the second world war period. No bad record, except one, disobedience. Was suspended one and a half year after joining.

He noted down address. But he saw no Reeve related report there.

The address was somewhere in Kansas.

He didn’t take time to decide.

He quickly called Jenny.

- Ummm, hello?

- Hello, Janet.

- Yeah, who?

- Me, Mike.

- I told you I am going to sleep.

- Can you take two days leave from the bar?

- What? Why?

- I am coming over your place.

- Now? At this hour?

He puts off the call. It will be a long night.