The Cat's Meow

The Cat's Meow


The man next to me leaned in close. “Don’t believe their lies,” he whispered into my ear.

"What?” I asked, though I'd heard him fine and had no interest in having a conversation.

“Don’t believe their lies,” he said over-enunciating each word.

I nodded my head. His face seemed in a battle with itself.

The bartender sighed heavy and put my drink softly in front of me on a white napkin . It was just what I ordered. Well Bourbon neat in a short glass.

The kid next to me leaned in again; “Think I’m jokin’?”

I felt his boozy breath on the right side of my face. I gave nothing back to him. No turn, no smile. No notice.

I looked at myself in the dirty mirrior behind the bar. I looked old and thin and had big, dark bags under my eyes and my cheeks were gray and gaunt. I looked like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to both sides of my face. I had to admit, nothing in the mirror pointed to me lasting much longer.

Helen used to say I was the "cat's meow in spades".

“Don’t believe 'em!” the man beside me yelled to everyone in the long narrow bar. The bartender scowled. Three or four fellow patrons humphed into their beer.

My wife once had a tattoo on her left arm. It said; "Theo" in sweeping purple cursive letters that turned black over the years. She got it after we were married... 1949 I think it was. Not many girls had tattoos back then. Not good girls, anyway. She was a trailblazer and a spit-fire, my Helen. She didn't take shit from anyone! I felt like asking the knucklehead beside me if he had ever met an old lady with a tattoo before. Instead, I lifted my glass up and faced myself in the mirror and made a silent toast to Helen and to me, it was our anniversary number 58. I downed the drink in one mighty swallow looking myself in the eyes.
We gave each other a wink. and I felt young. I felt happy and brave and happy to be brave.

"What's your name, pops?" the kid next to me asked.

"Theo," I told him, standing up from my stool.

“Well, don’t believe their lies, Theo!”

"Don't you worry, I won't."

"I mean it!"

"I know you do, kid."

I touched him on the shoulder as I slid out and tossed a double-saw-buck on the bar.

The bartender looked worried I might want change. I nodded at him and at the kid. The kid was already back in the mirror.

There was still light left outside. I walked the long way home singing an old song I couldn't quite remember, the cat's meow awhile longer.