Memory

The dim light of the bar and the ambient music danced around Frank as he slowly sipped his whiskey. He peered around the room watching the mixture of people living, laughing, dancing and drinking. Each of them had their own lives, their own problems, their own hopes, desires and dreams. Frank loved watching people; Tricia was always amazing at it, envisioning every aspect of their lives at just a glance. They had sat on the park bench that they met by every day, and she had animatedly described the trials and tribulations of the man walking a dog, the two little children holding hands, the old woman giving bread to the ducks. He usually sat and watched the light in her eyes glisten as she invented story after story, never tiring of the sound of her voice.

Frank took another sip of his drink and shuddered at the burn scathing his throat. He watched as a young boy entered the bar, nervously looking around at the older men. Frank watched as he sauntered with wavering confidence up to the bar, trying to impress his friends who waited outside. The boy stood up straight and cleared his throat; he laid his shaking hand down on the bar and asked for a beer. The bartender raised her eyebrow and asked to see identification. He stammered a form of excuse, but her eyebrows only rose higher up her forehead. The boy’s shoulders fell and he couldn’t stop the dreadful thought of what the others outside would do when they found out; they could all get alcohol fine, it was their test of confidence. A test to see how cool you are. Humiliated, he slumped outside, awaiting the mockery of his so-called friends.

Frank looked away from the boy and across the room to the dark corner reserved for spontaneous couples. He watched a man of about twenty move towards a beautiful girl, glowing under his gaze. “Let’s get out of here?” he asked, pushing her hair out of her face and smiling that practiced smirk. She nodded, eyes wide open and followed him to the door. The man kept smiling to himself; yet another successful night, and he didn’t plan on ever changing that. He wanted his life to stay like that for a long time.

As they walked towards the door Frank looked past them at the other people in the world. Outside the window was another couple walking by, they were holding hands and her entire face was lit up with laughter. His admiring eyes left her face for a second to look at the bar, his expression wasn’t wistful or desiring, more like a fond memory that he didn’t want to relive. He turned back to his girlfriend and thought to himself, “I never believed I would feel love like this.”

Frank’s eyes followed the happy couple for a while, a small, reminiscent smile creeping onto his face. His view was blocked however by a large group of people out celebrating. A man walked in and loudly demanded champagne for them all; he had just told everyone that he and his girlfriend were engaged. The man’s giddy demeanour was infectious; the rest of the room buzzed with congratulations and good wishes. The man looked over at his wife-to-be and beamed. He couldn’t wait to be married, couldn’t wait to have the family he always wanted, couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with this wonderful woman. He had never been so happy. Frank watched the group, happiness radiating from them, the newly engaged man spun around the dance floor with his future bride, thinking that life couldn’t get any better, and as long as he had her, life would never be bad again.

There was a loud thump on the bar from Frank’s left; his head swivelled around in shock. The man had slammed an empty glass down, thirsty for more. He ran his left hand through his recently receding hairline as if he was trying to tear it all out. He had just been fired. What could he do? His wife was pregnant. They were going to move into a house. They were going to be happy, but what now? What hope was there now? The man raised his head and locked eyes with a tall, pouty looking woman from across the bar. She smiled at him and for a moment he considered her, but it was as if an arrow had shot him right in the heart, stopping him from ruining the best thing in his life. He smiled down at his empty glass and knew that the love he already had meant more to him than anything else.

Looking around at the men once more, Frank wondered what they all thought of him. He wondered what the other versions of himself thought of their future. What did they see? An old man whose wife has just died? An old man about to kick the bucket himself? An old man alone, alone for the rest of his miserable life? An old man with nothing to live for? An old man with no one to love him? An old man without any hope? As he looked around the room to look at them all for the last time, they faded into memory, never truly existing.

Frank felt a tap on his shoulder, turned, and saw the worried lines creased on the face of a middle-aged man. Frank gazed into his eyes for a moment; all he could see was his Tricia’s eyes staring back at him. The man took Frank’s hand and smiled.

“Let’s go home, dad.”

Frank stood, took one last glance around the room, and left the bar to be with his family.

Perhaps there was still some hope.