Welcome to the Show by Matt Hayward & Doug Murano

Author:Matt Hayward & Doug Murano [Murano, Matt Hayward and Doug]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress
Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
Published: 2018-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

OPEN MIC NIGHT

Kelli Owen

“The first time I saw Marla, she had just gotten off the bus from Missouri—the empty bottle of whiskey in her hand still coated in strychnine.” Harry’s eyes glazed over. He was remembering as he spoke, the details clear in his otherwise cataract vision.

“I didn’t connect the dots for years, but I never forgot the image of this woman with an empty bottle and a bus ticket stub. She put the bottle on the bar and asked for a Gin Rickey. I hollered for the bartender and took the bottle away, throwing it in the trashcan out back—six states away from where it needed to be found. Where it would have answered questions. Where it could have stopped countless deaths. Maybe.” He paused for a breath before exhaling his verdict. “Probably not.”

I watched him swim in his memories, composing whatever it was he needed to tell me into something that would make sense to both of us. I waited for his focus to come back to the present. He blinked several times, his dry eyes making the tiniest little clicking sounds.

“And you don’t want me to write this down?”

He shook his head, age and frailty making it look more like a tremor than an answer. “This doesn’t need to be reported, just repeated. And stopped if you’re up to it.” His eyes cleared and he stared at me.

“It was 1938. The new labor law had passed in June, but we were still ignoring it at The Shantyman. Barely twelve years old, I was cheap child labor—and my momma depended on my pitiful under-the-table pay—so I wasn’t looking to get anyone reported or fined. I did the dishes, scrubbed the bathrooms, and dealt with the vomit and piss when the drinks flowed into mouths that should have long before closed and gone home. I was young when she came in that first time. When she left the bus ticket stub with the coins for her drink, I stuck it in my pocket and kept it for years. I don’t have any idea why. I guess I was fascinated with this woman who came across the whole country with nothing but an empty bottle of whiskey.

“I don’t remember if she sang or just watched the open mic acts that first night. I didn’t know yet to pay attention. But you can bet I remembered her clear as day when she came back thirty years later—looking exactly like she did in ‘38. I was bartending then, and between that and going off to Korea and back, I had seen a lotof people in my time. And I’d forgotten just about as many as I’d seen. But I remembered Marla. ‘Course, I didn’t know her name yet.”

He turned and looked out at the gardens he paid someone else to keep up, his gaze wandering like a floating leaf, not settling on anything in particular, just lazily drifting along. His voice changed, becoming smoother somehow.

“You swim, Harry? She asked me that, as she sat on the stool and looked at the stage.

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