I’m Gonna Run to The Bathroom

“You know you can get a can of Guinness here for six bucks?”

Tim had been trying to keep the strained tone out of his voice for the better part of the day, and his most recent effort was the most spectacular failure so far.

“I had no idea,” I said, glancing around the dive bar. There were two other patrons today, and with the bartender we were five total. The one thin-faced man sat away from us, watching the TV playing a rerun of Sister Wives. The other woman looked to be in her early 30s with such heavy freckling on her face it looked to me like someone had thrown a handful of mud in her face. She scrutinized her phone with an intensity that told me her goal was to avoid eye contact with Tim and I.

The dart board was what Ellisha called “ran through”, with so much use and so many holes that darts simply didn’t hold in the porous cork no matter how hard they were thrown. Tim had still wanted to try and handed his ID to the bartender in exchange for worn darts with American flag patterning on the tails. One of the darts was missing a fin, so we took turns using the one set.

We took turns sipping the beers and Tim asked me stilted questions about Ellisha and how things were going.

“How’s she doing?”

“How’s Robbie?”

“Thinking of buying a house?”

“Smart, smart. The prices will come down. I’m thinking of building one.”

“Yeah, once I get the money together. I probably would have to contract a lot of it out. But I’ll do it. Yep, I’ll do it. That’s what I’m up to”

The woman behind us, evidently sick of waiting, got up and left the bar, leaving a 20 on the table.

“This is just like old times right?”

“Yeah, I guess it was more dark out then. Haha.”

“No I guess you’re right. It’s not really that similar.”

“You’re right, it’s better. We got a lot to look forward to.”

“I have to piss. Maybe get another drink. I’ll be right back.”

Tim tilted the Guinness can vertical and with a ‘clang’ set it on the table and strode through the cowdoor that went to the bathroom.

The man at the bar with the thin face wheeled around to face me.

“Can he go now?” I asked, knowing the answer before I got to it.

“He stays,” Belial replied with deep white grin. The smirk stretched and stretched. The man on the TV talked about how difficult polyamory was. How the communication needed to be perfect.

“Ironic,” I said, “When a hunger for more people is the surest sign you’re done being honest with those around you.”

Belial’s impossible grin grew even wider and he turned back to the bar. I sat next to him, knowing that Tim wouldn’t come back for some time.

“What do you want him to do?” I asked, sitting at the bar and signaling to the bartender for another old fashioned.

“Hurt.”

“Hmmm.”

“You can’t do anything.”

“I know, he put himself here.”

“Do you think he comes back from the bathroom?”

“Everyone comes back from the bathroom,” I said, “Sometimes you just need a little time.”

The woman came back in with a different face now. This time her blonde hair fell to her shoulders and her blue eyes contrasted against her eye liner like a flashlight passing over an ice sculpture in the dark. Refractions and reflections.

But not too much reflection. Not that much. Good. Opaque again. Good. Tim needed opaque.

I sighed.

“You can go anytime,” Belial reminded me. The credits were rolling on the episode of Sister Wives and the bartender had found an episode of Impractical Jokers. “If you remain here too long, it can change you. Time here can make the life you have a life that you cannot return to. Not truly.”

“I know. I’ve been here before.” I took a sip of the Old Fashioned. The well stuff was piss here. Worse, it might even be Evan Williams, “ I’ve left before.”

“Walked out of here and left them here. Cruel.” I could feel the cold breeze from his foul grin splitting into exsistence at my side. “I approve.”

“I like this one,” I said, gesturing at the TV with my drink, “Sal can’t stop cracking up. It was always the best when Joe was there.”

“The old times are always best,” Belial said with a chuckle, “Memories can be polished. Honed to an incandescent feeling. A man with a compendium of such feelings can conjure them at will.”

“They aren’t real, though.”

“All feelings are real,” Belial said with an unnatural grin, that seemed to leak off the side of his cheeks. Fuck, I hated big grins they always disgusted me. “It’s my gift.”

“Just the ones I’ve got right now,” I said, “You can remember the old ones, like you said. But it a museum. It’s history. It’s important. But it’s dead.” I shot him a glance and grin of my own. “The only real ones are the ones in your chest.”

He didn’t like that.

Tim returned from the bathroom then. He took the seat in between me and the woman.

“This is a good one, Q absolutely destroys Murr in the head to head.”

“Yeah that just happened,” said the woman. Tim turned to look at her, then gestured to the bartender for two drinks.

“I know you gotta get home,” Tim said to me without turning. He had stopped crying a while ago and you couldn’t even tell anymore. “I’ve known it for a long time. Knew it the whole time I was in the bathroom. Hated you for it. Then I didn’t. Then… I was glad you were here.”

“I’m glad I was too,” I finished my drink, “Sure you’re alright if I take off?”

“You know what?” Tim smiled while he looked over his shoulder at me. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“All right, man,” I smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. He was taller than I remembered. When he sat up straight like that, he could see over the top of my head. “I gotta get back.”

I turned on my heel to leave and I had almost reached the door when he called to me. I turned and saw every single person in the bar looking at me. The bartender had given me a wave and woman’s smile was warm from beneath her short, tight bob. Tim’s smile was big. Big grins were always awesome.

“Thanks for sitting with me man.”

“You sat with me, too.”

“Did I?”

“Someone did.”

He nodded at that, and I turned and strode out.