Bachelor Party

                 This is a short story type thing that I wrote last year. Some parts I love, 
                  some parts not so much, but I figured it deserves a home. Enjoy.


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I watched the tiny bubbles of air form at the bottom of my beer, dance up the drink excitedly, then disappear into the froth that peacefully lay still at the top. I glanced around the bar, ignoring the signs that warned me that this wasn’t the most hygienic place for drowning your sorrows. It was dark, damp and musty, with a distinctive smell that penetrated the already potent air. Sleazy rock music stung through my ears as it spluttered out of the dusty stereo, and my pounding headache relentlessly voiced its disapproval of the song choice. I ran my fingers along the table, each time taking a small amount of effort to un-stick my hand from the table, accompanied with an understated squelching sound. I leaned back and sighed. The seats were worn, and had a pattern that shrieked of the 70s, but they were soft. And warm. But I didn’t want to know why. A small black TV was murmuring something about an escaped convict; it was hard to tell over the terrible music and my own head screaming in pain. This hell hole would seem a lot better if Amy was here.

“Cheer up, sad sack,” Pete quipped from the other side of the table. I glanced wearily at him. Pete was, in many ways, the worst friend any human being could ever possibly have. He was impatient, insensitive, violent, moronic and gave terrible advice. His questionable fashion sense and receding hairline meant that he had little use as a wingman. He had his benefits, though. Namely, he had never turned his back on me when everyone had and was always there for me when I needed a drink.

“Did you even listen to what I just told you?” I replied curtly, “what possible reason is there for me to be cheerful?”

“You know what you could do with?” he said.

“What I think I could do with and what you think I could do with are two drastically different things. But…” I waved a hand at him, permitting him to continue.

“You need to forget about everything that’s happened today. Seriously, just wipe the slate clean and get out of town. Start a fresh.”

I stared down at the beer; half hoping it would provide an answer, like tea leaves. It was true; things could never get back to normal after what happened today, perhaps a new beginning was what I needed. But what about Amy? I looked up at Pete, who was wearing a disgustingly smug grin on his face. In the background, the Neanderthal barman had mercifully turned down the hideous music, so my own thoughts were easier to concentrate on.

“Maybe you’re right,” I muttered finally.

“Maybe I’m always right,” he said, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head. I stared at him. And then I realised something. Something I had told myself many times, but only as a tough love motivator. I was weak. Everything that has happened recently has been as a result of my weakness. And now I had to leave, but I couldn’t. Not alone, anyway.

“Would you come with me?”

Pete spat out a laugh, meaning the crumbs and shells of peanuts that had stuck around in his mouth now found themselves on my face. As his galling laughter continued, I got the feeling that even though the casual roar of voices was filling the air within the bar, everyone was listening to him. In fact, the voices seemed to be dying down somewhat. He exhaled loudly, wiped away a tear and turned to me. He ignored the scowl that I was housing.

“Sorry, no can do.” He answered bluntly, like I’d asked him to feed my goldfish or something.

“Why not? It’s not like you have any reason to stay here”

He laughed again, this time more of a chuckle.

“Au contraire,” He grinned, and at that point he diverted his attention to somewhere behind me. I turned, just in time to catch a waitress’ tray in my side temple.

When I looked up after tending to my now revitalized headache, I noticed Pete was now accompanied by a young woman who had her arm draped around him lovingly. Her blond hair was startlingly bleached and riddled with extensions, and her face was caked with make-up of various colours. She didn’t look like a type that would have a college degree. Her apron indicated that she was a waitress. “This…” Pete started, gesturing to his left “is Shaunice.” I stifled a laugh. Shaunice pulled her eyes away from Pete and turned to me, pointing at the newly formed bruise on my temple.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” she said, distinctly lacking sincerity in her voice “I’ve only been working here a few weeks. Pete’s always here waiting for me during my shifts. He’s so sweet!” She turned to face Pete again and their lips met. I’d never been one for downing pints of beer before, but it felt necessary at this point. I grabbed my glass and began to drink, quickly but steadily. Through the drink and the glass I could make out the warped outlines of Pete and his lady friend, still entwined with each other, oblivious to my existence. My senses were numbing with every passing second, and with every gulp, thinking became harder. The sounds that were crisp, loud and clear before began to echo and mumble, like they were trapped in a box. What now? Where could I go where I could escape from everything? Did I want to escape from everything? My parents? Amy?

No, I won’t run. Not this time. I’ve fought for us before, I can do it again. Resolved, I slammed my empty glass down triumphantly and took in my surroundings. Everything was much hazier than before. What I was able to notice was around half the bar was staring at me, concerned expressions on their faces. The other half had their eyes fixed on the entrance behind me, looking similarly worried. I turned my attention to Pete and Shaunice, but both were now standing in the corner of the bar, trying to avoid attention. I looked behind. Two men were blocking each door, while a radio crackled and spluttered from somewhere on their waist. They both wore gaudy high visibility jackets and black pointy hats. I assumed it was some kind of themed bachelor party. That is, until I noticed a woman defiantly walking up to me, a determined look on her face. She wore casual clothes, a dull red hoodie and jeans, but she still seemed to emit an aura of authority. As she neared me, my still hazy vision managed to focus in on her face details. My stomach turned. It was Amy. And it turned out that determined face was actually one of unrelenting fury.

“I told them you’d be here” Amy said bitterly. Suddenly running away seemed like a much more favourable idea. “I think your little joyride is over now.”

I slumped in my seat, defeated. “How are things?”

Amy smiled, but not in a warming way. “Could be better,” she remarked, “The police force fired me for having a relationship with one of the prisoners.”

“Wow. That was pretty stupid of you.”

“There’s been a lot of stupidity lately. Such as said prisoner suddenly escaping when word gets out of the relationship.”

I looked away, not in shame, but annoyance. The TV had been muted, but they were obviously still playing the escaped convict story. There was my face, looking beaten and dejected. Lying low afterward would’ve been a good idea, but after calling everyone I know, and each one wanting nothing to do with me, like I was some kind of out of fashion disease, I felt like drowning my sorrows. In retrospect, that probably wasn’t too smart.

“I’m sorry?” I said finally, and started to laugh, “I’m not gonna feel guilty for your lack of self control--” My sentence was cut short by her fist landing me square in the centre of the face. The two men on their bachelor party decided that was their cue to approach. I had just enough time to crack my nose back into place, before my hands were suddenly pinned behind me and cuffed. As I was led away, I looked back at the bar. I spotted Pete and Shaunice loudly declaring they had no idea who I was, the bar slowly regained focus and the noise level gradually returned to normal. And as I saw Amy, I thought I saw remorse in her face, before she turned away and headed to the bar. As I was taken outside, I looked up at the stars, wondering how different the night sky looked on the other side of the world, and knowing that I’d thrown away my chance of ever finding out.