I saw him from across the bar, staring into his drink, and tapping out the rhythm to a song I didn't recognize.
Mark was usually very cheery - even though the word didn't quite apply. It was strange for me to see him,;first of all, in a bar, and second of all, so entirely melancholy that it seemed all who approached him would freeze along with time itself.
Of course, I knew better than to
know somebody from work. The workplace is the last place I'd expect somebody to feel most themselves. But still, the image before me - Mark now drawing pictures with the moisture from the bottom of his glass - conflicted so with who I
thought he was, that I was forced to do a double take.
Whatever had been ailing him, he looked in no way hostile, so I figured I would pull up a stool next to him and see what was up.
He saw me coming out of the corner of his eye, and pulled the stool out from under the bar.
"Fancy seeing you here," I said jokingly, in a futile attempt to lighten the mood.
"Fancy that," he agreed. "You want a beer?" he asked.
"Sure. But I can pay-
"Nonsense. Tender," Mark called to the bartender. "Two more." He finished his drink with a smack of his lips. Turning the glass in the air, he examined it like a child would with a captured firefly in a jar.
"Looking to forget a bad day?" He asked me to the side. I took a deep settling breath.
"Looking to balance one out." He cocked an eyebrow as he met my eyes. Our beers arrived. "Not all of us can relax on just the one day every five years." I took a pull on my drink as Mark let out an almost imperceptible laugh.
"A bar is not a place to relax," he said. "It's a place to either get drunk, meet women, or hang out with friends. And you came in here alone."
"So did you," I commented.
"And I've got my reasons. What're yours?" His diction was sharp and to the point, and I began to worry that I was bothering Mark with my presence. That maybe I should never have come over, or that I should just find an empty table.
I sat for a while in silence and thought about it. What reason did I have for ending up in a bar every other night? Sure, I'd love to meet a girl, but I'd also like to meet one
outside of a bar. And most of my friends had been married off, some with children to tend to at night. What reason did I have for coming alone? What kept me coming back?
"I never had an answer either." Mark said softly. "Sometimes you just get so caught up in living life that you forget to better yourself."
He slapped a crisp hundred down on the table and rose from his seat. Emptying his beer in one last gulp, he slammed it down on the bar. He then pressed something into my hand, and only had time to tell me that he wouldn't be at work the next day before making his way to the door.
"Wait!" I yelled. I got the bartender's attention, showed him the hundred, and took off after Mark. But by the time I got outside, he was already gone, his car collecting snow in the parking lot. I don't know what it was, or what kept me to it, but something told me that I had just witnessed the turning point of a man caught up for too long in the whirlwind of life. Then, remembering the piece of paper in my fist, I unclenched it and read: "Tell Christine that I haven't left. 6612 38th Ave S" I looked for him a solid ten minutes, calling his name until my voice started to crack and my body could take the cold no longer, but it was no use. He had disappeared into the night.
---
Just like Mark said, he wasn't at work the next day. I decided to pay a visit to Christine after my shift was over. She answered the door in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, and was obviously tired.
"Can I help you?" she asked guardedly.
"Um, hello." I stumbled over my words. "My name is Charlie. I'm a friend of your husband's at work-" I saw her reaction, saw a pained look in her eyes that I could no longer meet. I pushed on. "He, uh... I met up with him last night and he didn't seem... well, he told me that he wouldn't be at work today, without explanation, and he wasn't, so... he gave me this." I fumbled in my pocket for the greasy slip of paper. I held it before Christine, who took it cautiously and read it slowly. Her hand reached to her mouth and her eyes closed, holding back tears. When they opened again she was composed.
"And he gave this to you last night?" She asked. I answered affirmatively. "Was he in a bar?" I struggled to come up with a suitable answer - a suitable lie - but she cut right through my speechlessness. "It's okay," she said. "I just need to know."
"It was in a bar," I told her. Her eyes closed again.
"That's okay," she whispered. "That's okay."
A small girl ran into the living room behind her with a whoop. "Alice," she called, and the little girl came to her. "Can you play in your room for a few minutes so mommy can talk?" The little girl nodded and waved at me. I smiled and waved back before she sprinted back from where she came.
"Thank you," Christine said. "For the note, of course, but... thank you. For being there with him."
"I was just in the right place in the right time." I said.
"It means a lot to me. To us," she added, looking back at the girl who was no longer there.
"It's nothing," I said. I honestly felt like I had done what anybody else would have in my situation.
"Do you want to come in? I can bake you something in return for your trouble."
"I appreciate the offer," I began, "but I really should be getting home."
"I understand," she said. I turned to leave, but she called out. "Charlie?"
"Yes?" I responded evenly.
"Did he... did he say anything else? Anything I should know?" Her arms crossed herself in an attempt to ward off the cold through the front door.
I stopped for a moment and remembered his words to an exact accuracy. It wasn't hard, for they resonated within me as if I had spoken them myself.
"He said that 'Sometimes you get so caught up in living life that you forget to better yourself."
We shared a smile before I drove back home. On the way I saw Mark's car in the lot of a neighborhood church. I didn't know what had happened between him and Christine, or what had caused him to turn his life around, but I knew that he was looking at his life with new eyes - with eyes wide open.
And I resolved to do the same.
