Eli's Coming

My name is Cyrus and I was down on my luck and down on my life. I hold a degree in advertising from Northeastern University in my home town of Boston. But that doesn’t mean anything when the internet company you work for inside the Prudential Building completely folds in a miniature Enron-like fashion. So I found myself, after years of schooling, working as the manager of the Boston Duck Tours, which ironically operates right outside the Prudential Building.

It was on a mid-summer night that I left my Beacon Hill apartment and made my way to the local tavern, the Three Dog Knight. The tavern had a picture of a medieval knight with three hounds following him that hung right from the Beacon Street entrance only a few blocks away from the Bull and Finch pub where the show Cheers was shot from. Whenever tourists would come to the neighborhood, they always made sure to stop there and left the Three Dog Knight to us locals.

The sun was just going down by the time I walked in through the doors with the same faces looking up to me as always. The tavern was a small dusty place, with tables all around and a bar to the left. Sure it was dark and dreary with an odd smell, but it had a friendly bit of romance all its own. Without hesitation I sat in my normal seat at the bar and looked up to Mark the bartender who was watching the television behind him.

“This is a big series for the Sox this week-end, Mark,” I said.

He gave me a sneer keeping his eyes on the Baltimore pitcher on the mound. “You don’t have to tell me that twice, although this guy is good! Just look at him! He hasn’t lost in his last nine starts. He’s unbeatable!” Mark threw at towel around his shoulder and then looked to me with a bit more of a smile, “So what can I do for you?”

“Get this man one of what I’m having. It’ll make him feel plenty better no matter whose pitching,” mumbled the overweight drunk man sitting next to me. It was Jeremiah wearing his favorite red flannel shirt he wore to his job at the Big Dig construction site. He was a good friend of mine although I never understood a single word he said. But you’d better believe me, I helped to drink his wine.

“Jeremiah, you know I can’t hold my liquor as well as you can,” I said with a laugh.

“It looks like he’s already got a head start on you in that competition,” said a light female voice from behind me. Michelle stepped up to the bar with her soft laugh, as always in her white and black waitresses’ outfit, signifying that she had just gotten off work herself without stopping home to change. To us, she was one of the guys, as much a barfly at the tavern as Jeremiah, Mark, or myself. “Hey Mark, get me three beers and quit worrying over the television. Even if the Red Sox manage to get a hit off that guy, the bullpen will blow it. They haven’t held a lead since April.”

Mark gave a sneer again, reaching below the bar top and grabbed a couple of brown bottles and handing them to Michelle while never taking his eyes off the game. Much to his dismay, the home team kept swinging and missing against the Oriole pitcher. “Look at these guys! Pay them millions of dollars and they can’t even swing a stick correctly!”

“Geez Mark,” I commented, “even you’re usually not this critical. What happened? Did you miss out on the Mass Millions by one number?”

The barkeep kept his eyes on the screen. “Worse… Eli’s coming.”

Michelle’s ears perked right up like the picture of the dogs following the knight on the sign. “Eli’s coming?!”

“You’d better hide your heart girl,” Jeremiah mumbled in a stupor.

“I don’t see what all the fuss over him is?” I looked at how giddy Michelle had become just hearing the name, something very unlike her. “He’s a jerk and a womanizer who thinks he’s way too good for everyone and doesn’t mind showing it. He’ll probably put a hit on every woman in the place tonight and then ditch them just as quickly for the next, and you know this too.”

“I know, Cyrus,” she tried to reason with me, but her giddiness kept getting in the way, “It’s just something you guys wouldn’t be able to understand.” She kept giggling like a school girl and took her drink back to her seat where a few of her friends waited. My eyes followed her across the tavern, only stopping my gaze at the stranger girl who was sitting alone at the booth next to Michelle and her friends.

“Hey Mark, whose that over there by herself? She new to the neighborhood or something?” It was almost always the same crowd at the tavern, especially on a Friday night, and any different face stuck out.

“Who?” Mark turned his attention from the game when a weak grounder to first retired the side. “Oh, her. That’s Sarah. Yeah, she’s in for a rough night. She came in here with Pete yesterday and they apparently made plans to meet back here tonight. Pete stopped by earlier to pick up his lucky hat he forgot, saying that he and his buddies where going down to Foxwoods tonight.”

“So she’s being stood up tonight, and you’re just going to let it happen?” I couldn’t help but be a little surprised at how easily Mark explained it all.

He gave a little shrug, “It’s not my duty to get involved in affairs that don’t bother me. I just serve drinks. I don’t play message delivery boy. Besides which, if he didn’t ditch her tonight he would do it soon enough. You know Pete; he’s almost as much of a jerk as Eli.”

As if on cue, the front door burst open and there stood Eli, the man himself. He wore a brand new red sweater, freshly dry cleaned khaki’s and black shoes as shiny as his slicked-back hair that reflected the lights with a sparkle. A collective gasp went up from all the women of the bar at his appearance as their pupils were quickly replaced by small pink hearts.

“Let the games begin,” I heard Mark mutter sarcastically.

Eli took a moment to scan the room and even pompously took in a long whiff of the air as if smelling his success before he even began. His smile grew wider and his step even more confident as he first made his way over to the bar. “So, Duck Man, how goes the driving business? Or is it sailing business?” He laughed in mockery at me. “You know, I can never tell whether they’re tour buses that sail or tour boats that drive.”

“Hey, Eli, cut it out,” Mark sneered at him during another commercial from the game.

“Oh no, the big tough barman is going to get me,” Eli laughed again. “Just get me a Vodka Martini, shaken not stirred.”

“Playing James Bond tonight?” Jeremiah spewed out in his drunkenness.

Eli laughed again. “If anything, he’s been playing me for the past forty years.” With his self image boosting even further through the clouds, he took his drink and went off in search of his first female target of the night.

The rage of everything that had been going wrong in my life was at an all time high. I did everything I could in life: went to college, worked like a maniac, and watched it all crumble around me. Life had always been out to get me like that. Then here comes the perfect Eli who could not only walk on water, but could probably turn it into wine as he walked over it while singing the entire score of Les Miserables. “I can’t stand that guy!” I finally let out, slamming my fist on the table.

“You can hate him all you want, but that won’t do a lick of good,” Mark watched Eli at work in just as much contempt as myself. “By the end of tonight, he’ll have wooed every girl in this place no matter what we do.”

“Even that poor Sarah girl?” Jeremiah chimed in gulping down another drink.

“Especially that poor Sarah girl,” Mark retorted. “A stranger that Eli hasn’t worked his magic on, sitting alone, waiting for someone who isn’t coming? Eli will be all over her in no time at all!”

“Geez Mark, you don’t even know her. Maybe she’ll resist him and keep waiting for Pete to show up,” Jeremiah said.

“You want to place a bet on that?” Mark challenged.

“Double or nothing from the money you owe me on that pool game last week?”

“You’re on!” the bartender called back. I couldn’t help but shake my head. The two of them gambled so much on random occurrences at the bar that money flowed between them faster than the Charles River. “Com’on Manny!” Mark screamed at the television again as the Red Sox big slugger struck out.

“Who is this guy?” Jeremiah said as he chocked on another drink. “This pitcher is unbeatable!”

“He’s some Cuban guy the Orioles picked up after he snuck into the country,” Mark was ready to punch the TV in anger, “and yet, somehow, the Sox couldn’t pick him up!”

“Hey, take it easy,” I tried to calm Mark down. The game seemed to be his only escape from Eli prowling in his tavern. “It’s still early. What’s the score anyways?”

Mark turned to me, “Two-zip O’s in the fifth. The back-up catcher Doug Mirabelli’s in there tonight and is abysmal. Missed the tag on the first run, and then let a ball get past him for the second. It’s a good thing we don’t waste much money on him.”

“Take it easy on the guy. I don’t see you in the major leagues now, do I?” I joked trying to lighten the situation. While he helped another customer I scanned around the tavern again and saw Eli hard at work with Michelle and a game of billiards. “How does he do it?” I couldn’t help but mutter in disgust. “What is Eli’s secret that makes him so perfect? Michelle couldn’t answer but there she is, falling victim to him like so many before. She knows this too.”

Jeremiah looked up and saw Eli as well but could only shake his head. “How can people be so heartless and how can people be so cruel? It is easy to be hard and easy to be cold. If we knew his secret of making being a jerk so rewarding, we’d all be jerks.”

“I can’t stand this any more,” I shook my head. “We’ve been sitting here watching Eli waltz in and out of this place for years. I’m going over there and I’m going to figure out what his secret is myself.”

Before Mark or Jeremiah could talk me out of my idiocy, I was out of my seat and on my way to the pool table with Eli in my sights. I was so focused on him that I didn’t see Michelle at all winding up for her shot, but trust me, I felt it when the cue struck me right in the gut knocking the wind out of me. In my normal bumbling, I fell to the floor in a heap, gasping for air, much to Eli’s delight.

“Cyrus!” Michelle shouted as she bent down to make sure I was alright. “I didn’t see you there. I’m really, really sorry.” I took a deep breath and was able to regain myself. I got up on my knees and took another breath before I tried to stand on my feet, but taking that extra moment was a mistake.

Eli took his shot, and in his confidence hit the cue much too hard, sending it jumping off the table and crashing right into my face, just below my right eye. Suddenly I found myself on the ground again with a throbbing pain in my cheek. I could hear Eli laughing hysterically at my slap-stick routine.

“Oh my god! Cyrus, are you alright?” Michelle couldn’t believe what happened and checked on me again. “Com’on, let’s get you something to put on that. It’s swelling up already.”

With Michelle’s help, I stumbled back to the bar and flopped in my seat. I couldn’t help but rest my head on the bar top as the whole world around me was spinning.

“Hey Mark, get him an ice pack or something, and don’t let him get up for a few moments. He took that cue ball to the face pretty hard!”

I began to think that if there was a higher power of some sort out there, they were pretty much giving me every sign in the book that my destiny was to never find out the secret of Eli. Michelle couldn’t help but laugh at just how random the whole incident had occurred between me getting hit with a cue stick and then me getting hit with the cue ball. “I know it won’t help the pain any,” she struggled to speak in between her laughter, “but you got a good laugh from everyone in the bar. Even that new girl in the corner got a laugh out of it.”

“You mean Sarah?” Jeremiah nodded at Michelle with a smile. “Although I’d like to point out that she is still Eli free so at the moment it looks like someone is going to owe me double then they did before.”

I was able to look up and in my dizziness was able to see Eli having already moved on to another woman in the far corner. “Michelle, I’m sorry I ruined your moment with Eli.” I figured she was going to slap me or storm off or something in anger but instead she took the seat next to me with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” she laughed, “it was exactly that… a moment. We all know Eli. He was probably going to leave me and work his magic on some other girl soon anyways. What were you up too anyways? It seems rare for you to leave the bar, especially with a game on.”

Mark handed me my icepack which I put on my face in a weak attempt to keep the swelling down. “I had to discuss something with Eli, that’s all.”

“What in the blazes would you have needed to talk to him about?” Michelle laughed, obviously trying to make me feel better.

“It was nothing. The moment’s gone anyway so don’t you worry,” I sighed trying to hide by pushing my face further into the icepack. “I think I should just give up. Eli is unbeatable! No matter what we do or where we go, he’ll always be there and be better than us.” I gave the room another scan and caught the womanizer himself, this time with three girls surrounding him. “That’s it, I’m moving entirely out of this country. Who’s with me?” I finally cried out mockingly.

“And just where would we be moving to?” Mark questioned.

“Anywhere that Eli isn’t,” I said in disgust.

Jeremiah looked up from yet again another drink, “Well I’ve never been to Spain, how about there?”

“Well, I kinda like the music,” Michelle pitched in.

“They say the ladies are insane there, and they sure know how to use it,” Mark gave me a nudge from across the bar.

I couldn’t take my eyes from Eli and his ever growing throng of female admirers, “I bet the moment we’d get there, Eli would already be there and all the women would be flocking to him like children to the Christmas tree. I really am just giving up! What’s happening in the game, give me something to take my mind off this whole situation.”

“Doesn’t look good,” Mark shook his head to only compound the horrors of this night. “We magically got a run off of him, but it’s still Two-One going to the last of the ninth.”

“Well that’s alright, it’s only one run. When’s Manny and Ortiz up to bat?” I asked, trying to make light of the situation.

“They both went down swinging again to end the last inning,” Mark was ready to concede the entire night. “Jay Payton, Mark Bellhorn, and then Doug Mirabelli are due this inning. The game is essentially over.”

All of our attention went to the television behind the bar as we watched in misery as the Baltimore pitcher toyed with Payton and finally forced him to pop up to the center fielder.

“This guy is unbeatable!” Michelle shouted out at his swagger of perfection on the mound. “What has Bellhorn done against him today?”

“He got the only run off the pitcher, hitting a weak roller down the line,” Mark spoke, keeping his eyes on the screen. “The Orioles are protesting it and aren’t happy, maybe Lou can get a hit from him again.”

We all watched with what little hope was left as Bellhorn got into the batter’s box to try and at least get a hit off the unbeatable pitcher. However, with the first pitch it was proven that the pitcher hadn’t forgotten about the controversial hit. He plunked the Boston hitter right in the head with a wicked fastball, sending him to the ground in a heap. We all jumped up, screaming at the pompous jerk on the mound, laughing as he got his revenge on the batter.

“I hate this guy!” Michelle screamed at the television, ready to throw her chair at it as if she would hit the pitcher at the other end of the city. Bellhorn struggled to get up, but slowly trotted to first base, determined to finish the game. “Somebody get a hit off this guy and put him back in his place.”

Up stepped Doug Mirabelli, much to Mark’s disgust. “Well it won’t be this guy. He’s batting .215 this season and his two errors are the reason we’re loosing.” Mark’s complete hatred for the back up catcher had taken its full swing that night and didn’t show any signs of letting up.

Mirabelli got into the batter’s box with no batting gloves, which was normal to him, but weird since no one else in the league batted like that. The first pitch came, and he swung wildly and missed badly. Strike one. Pitch two froze him with a curve ball that caught the edge of the plate. Strike two. The third pitch was a fast ball, thrown straight at his head, but unlike the batter before him Mirabelli got out of the way and fell to the ground. Michelle screamed again at the television, her hatred for the Baltimore pitcher almost as high as Mark’s dislike for the batter. Mirabelli took a moment to breath and then dug himself back into the batter’s box, looking unnerved by the last pitch. The count was now one ball and two strikes. The pitcher looked to his catcher and confidently winked, knowing that this coming fastball would be strike three. He threw it with all his might; sure the batter would miss it like the first pitch.

Only this time the sound of the bat hitting the ball filled the bar as the television showed the little white ball sailing into the night and bouncing off the top of the wall in right field for the game winning home run. Jeremiah and Michelle leapt from their chairs in celebration, screaming out in wild joy and victory. The look of the pompous pitcher was priceless, almost as much as the stunned Mirabelli who was running the bases amazed he hit the ball himself.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. Here is a life time .230 batter who gets paid less than a million dollars to play the game. There are players on that team who make fifteen times the amount of money that the back-up catcher makes, and yet when their time came, they struck out. Doug Mirabelli has just had one of the worst nights of his life making two bad errors and still here he was being carried off the field by his teammates as the hero of the night. Suddenly the pitcher wasn’t unbeatable.

The only thing that took my gaze from the television was Mark’s yelling with delight as he pointed behind me. “Suddenly this night is turning out pretty good. First the Sox win and secondly someone will be losing a bet. Check it out: Eli’s eyeing up that poor girl in the corner.”

Sure enough, Eli was all the way across the bar but everyone could tell his eyes were looking right at the new girl. Sarah was in a heap at her table holding her only drink of the night, a glass of water. It had been hours since the time Pete was supposed to meet her, but she still refused to leave.

I gave one final look at the television as Doug Mirabelli was taking a second step from the dugout for a curtain call to the joy of the fans at Fenway Park. “Eli’s not winning this round,” I cried out as I stood up from my chair for the second time that night, but this time with a purpose in my eyes.

Sarah never even noticed me approach her since she was still buried in her arms on the table. “Excuse miss,” I spoke softly trying not to scare her. “I can’t help but notice that something’s really bothering you. Is there anything that I can do for you?”

I think I did startle her a little bit since she sat up straight very quickly, but then calmed seeing I didn’t mean her any harm. She tried to hide her tears, but wasn’t doing very well at it. “No, it’s alright. I don’t think there’s anything you can do.” She politely tried to give me a small smile. Still it was at that moment that I saw her fully in the light, and just how beautiful she was. Her eyes sparkled from the tears, but they seemed to glisten even more from splendor that was behind those tears.

I extended my hand. “My name’s Cyrus. I’m sort of what you’d call a resident customer here.”

She sniffled and then shook my hand gently, “I’m Sarah and well… I’m kind of new to the neighborhood, although I’m sure you would know that if you are here all the time…” She tried to continue but was cut off by Eli who smoothly slipped into the seat across from her at the table.

“My, my, my… what could such a lovely and charming lady like yourself be doing in tears and alone most of the night,” he chimed in with a smile and a wink. “If you’d like I can help cheer you up. My name’s Eli and I don’t think I’ve seen you around here, so allow me to give you a tour of our premises.”

What exactly I was thinking in going over to her was well beyond me. But Mark was right about Eli coming to woo Sarah, leaving me to make a total mockery of myself in front of her. However, it was to my surprise that she shot me a quick glance of annoyance over the womanizer himself. I couldn’t believe it. Here was a sweet and innocent girl that didn’t care that Eli was weaving his magic on her. In fact she down right loathed it.

“Hey, Eli let the girl be. She’s had a rough night,” I tried to defend her. “Can’t you go back to the other forty girls you’ve already had tonight.”

It was obvious in his eyes that he was ticked off by my comment. “Well, Duck Man, looks like you’ve finally got a lip on you. Although if you use it again I’ll give you a black eye on your left side to match the one you’ve got on your right.”

“Listen Eli, did you ever come to think that some girls just don’t like your actions and your commitment to them for all of about five seconds,” I shot back quickly, for once unafraid. “Go back to the girls that are too stupid enough to fall for your tricks.”

“Stupid?!” Eli couldn’t take it anymore and in one quick motion threw a right hook that leveled me square on the left side of the face. It took me by surprise and in a single moment I was on the ground with my face throbbing in pain yet again. I looked up and saw Eli standing over me, ready to finish the job.

It was only the glass of water Sarah threw that saved me. With more force than I thought she could muster, she threw the glass so hard it shattered when it hit Eli in the chest, sending him to the floor. “Leave him alone!” she screamed standing from her table. This time it was she who extended her hand, offering to help me up. “Are you alright Cyrus?” she spoke in a concerned voice.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. If there’s anything I’ve proven tonight it’s that my face is pretty tough. One cue ball, one punch and I’m still alive.” She gave a slight laugh and a small glint of happiness twinkled in her eyes. I took her hand and she helped me up. I looked at Eli who was crawling away to the next table to try and get back to his feet with the aid of his army of girls ready to throw themselves at him.

“Thanks for keeping that guy away from me.” She looked to the floor, a little nervous to even look at me in the eyes. “I’ve been watching him come and go with the other girls all night.”

“Thank me?” I was baffled. “I should be the one thanking you. You just saved me from a free trip to the ER.” I tried to speak a little more softly in an attempt to make her feel more comfortable. “Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked again.

“Well,” she thought for a moment and seemed a little nervous in asking. “If you want to thank me, you could always walk me back home. I don’t live very far away and you never know how many more Eli’s there might be on the way home.”

I couldn’t believe that my hearing was correct. Here was an absolutely beautiful girl who not only fought off Eli’s magic but chose to speak to me rather than him. It seemed like that higher power who kept me from Eli’s secret just wrote an old fashion love song, one I’m sure they wrote just for her and me. “Rejecting such an offer would be a sin!”

She laughed and grabbed a hold of my arm, the few tears dried on her face forgotten. “Then lead the way my good man” she said in a fake British high cultured accent. I lead her from the table and towards the door passing the winks and nods of Mark, Jeremiah, and Michelle at the bar.

Doug Mirabelli isn’t even scheduled to play tomorrow and by then his heroics will be forgotten, but for one night, after all his failures, he was the hero of an entire city. Tomorrow Eli will be back to his normal ignorant self, wooing any girl he wants, and I’ll probably return to my seat at the bar with my heroics forgotten. However for one night I was the hero who defeated the unbeatable, and no one could take that away from me.