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“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. First thing tomorrow, we’re going to the general store and getting some nutritious food. And not just garnishes.” She’s reprimanding me, and I stand there with my head down like a wayward child.
“Fine, can we go now please?” I groan.
“I’m waiting on you,” she quips as she waves one arm toward the door.
The Casino is the only bar on the island and only a short walk from the cottage. A straight run down the walk with a right and another right, and we’re there. It sits high up on the beach so you can see everything. The bar is inside a large shack with one-half being the bar and the other half a restaurant. There are separate entrances for each. The Casino is set up with a large window bar so when you’re out on the deck you can order a drink. On the right hand side of the window is a small alcove with a grill and fryer. Since the actual restaurant is on the other side, they only serve burgers and chicken fingers at the bar.
We step up to the counter and grab menus. “Nothing low calorie on this side, huh?” Brenda mumbles.
“Nope, but it’s better than bar garnishes,” I say with a smile. She shoots me a dirty look, which makes me smile even broader. We place our orders with the girl behind the counter.
“I’ll bring your food out to you once it’s finished,” she says.
“Great, thanks. We’ll be inside.” We head in to the bar since it’s starting to get hot.
It’s Friday afternoon at the start of happy hour, and the place is deserted. It’s still pretty early in the season, but I expect it to get busy later on. Anyone still on the beach below is rushing to get to the four o’clock ferry since most of them have been baking in the sun since late morning. We take a seat toward the back by the windows.
The bar is a half-moon shape, since there is the opening to the outside. There’s a dartboard and a pool table but not much else. For a bar it’s very bright, as it’s mostly windows with views of the ocean from any angle.
One of my favorite bartenders, Shawn, is working. We call him Mac for short, since his last name is McIntyre.
“Hey, Liv, the usual?” He smiles like he always does. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a bad mood, and he’s been working here as long as I can remember.
“Sure, Mac. You remember Brenda?”
“How could I forget that beautiful face?” Wow, he’s on a roll today.
“Hi Mac,” she blushes, smiling back at him.
“Liv, where’s Evan? He’s usually here by now.”
Here we go. I knew there would be questions about Evan’s whereabouts. He’s been coming to Davis with me for the past six years. I’m just not sure I’m up for explanations.
“We broke up,” I say, looking down toward the bar, picking at my fingernails. One of my many nervous habits.
“Oh, sorry. Too bad, you guys were a cute couple.” I’m bending straws into angry shapes. Seeing my reaction, he realizes that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “But,” he continues,
“that’s good news for us single guys, you being back on the market.” His honest smile could melt a glacier.
I look up at Mac, giving him a weak smile. “Thanks, you don’t have to try and make me feel better. I’m okay.”
“I wasn’t trying to,” he says, his voice soft. He leans over the bar just so I can hear him. “You are the nicest, most honest, and by far the finest thing on this island. If he was stupid enough to lose you, then he didn’t deserve you in the first place.”
Mac always knows the right thing to say. I think it’s bartending 101. But I know he means every word. I feel my eyes welling up. I turn away knowing I am about to cry. “I have to pee,” I say and hurry to the bathroom.
After a few minutes, Brenda comes in to check on me. “Liv, don’t sweat it,” she says. “Mac’s right. We’ll find you someone new, better than that piece of shit.”
Brenda and Evan never hit it off. He was very possessive; a trait I found endearing at first. Once we were dating for a few months, Evan wanted to know every move I made. Sometimes, he wouldn’t allow me to go out at all and never with Brenda. She was too promiscuous for him. I think he thought I might cheat on him. Ha, me cheat on him.
He said he was protecting me, but Brenda knew better. She used to call me a Stepford Wife. Evan was my first serious boyfriend, so I didn’t know any better. Any time we were out and she came with us, they would argue and fight. After a while, I kept them as far away from each other as I could manage.
“I don’t want anyone new. I want to relax and sit in the sun and do nothing.” I want to crawl under a rock and die. This is why I want to be by myself and not face the reality that I am no longer with Evan. Not that I’m in denial, but I can control my anxiety at my own pace. Now I have to face up to it in public, and sooner than I’m ready for. I look into the clouded mirror above the sink and fuss with my hair. It’s another nervous tick. There’s nothing to fix. It‘s all on top of my head in a big poof. I look close at my puffy green eyes and the bags under them, making them darker than normal.
Bren comes up behind me, giving me a comforting hug. “I’ll be at the bar when you’re ready to come back out.” I can see her in the mirror, and she’s smiling. It’s a fake smile, but I know she’s trying.
“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.” I stand there, take a deep breath and try to get myself together.
As I make my way back, I spot food on the bar, and my Amstel is nestled in a bucket of ice. Brenda isn’t a beer drinker. Her drink of choice is a Ketel One martini, dry, with lots of olives. I need to pick up olives at the general store if she’s going to be here for the next few weeks. Wait. “Bren, how did you get so much time off work?” I question her as I pick at my chicken fingers.
