Page 7

7

MASON

A fter the last delivery route ended a few days ago, I decided to take a week off and head to my condo in northern California. I hadn’t been there since mid-June, and I missed the place. I needed the salty ocean breezes, the view to die for, and the quiet solitude my condo afforded in Crescent City. The last remnants of summer were my favorite time of year. It was cooler and before daylight saving time, which eventually robbed me of incredible late evening views. The colorful sunsets there have always taken my breath away.

I loved my spacious abode and sometimes felt guilty holding on to it since I was only there a few times a year. I couldn’t seem to let it go. Memories still haunted my thoughts. It was a home created with love well over a decade ago, and now love no longer resided there with me. Time does help heal, but each time I return, it takes me back a little.

I had a parking spot nearby for my rig, owned by my longtime best friend. From there, I could easily catch a rideshare to my condo, where I kept my Toyota RAV4 safely parked under the complex. My five-year-old SUV made getting around town convenient, and I felt it was a necessity. While I enjoyed my condo, it sometimes felt lonely, so I occasionally visited my favorite bar to connect with the locals. Tonight was going to be one of those nights.

Once I arrived at my condo, I needed to open the sliding panel doors to the deck and air it out. The heat of summer and the humidity of the ocean air made the space feel stuffy and stagnant after it had been locked up for weeks. Even though I kept the A/C at a constant seventy-five degrees, it wasn’t enough to circulate the air to my liking.

I’d taken items I needed from the semi and put them in my large duffle, which I tossed onto the king-size bed in the master bedroom. It had an en-suite bath with a large shower that I loved. It showcased a glass-windowed wall, which exposed the bather to the magnificent ocean view. I’d never had exhibitionist tendencies, but it was so private and out of anyone’s line of sight I sometimes found myself aroused by horny thoughts and needed to take care of business right then and there.

After quickly unpacking, I took most of my clothing to the laundry room. I used the large shower and got myself cleaned up before heading into town. I wasn’t going to sit at home after being alone on the road for such a long spell, so I decided to head to my favorite bar. It was about eight o’clock when I finally locked the condo up and headed to my SUV.

I didn’t know all the locals that frequented the establishment, but my good friend Eli not only owned the bar but also the lot where I parked my rig. He was a jovial sort, the perfect bartender on the nights of the week he chose to work. Eli knew how to care for his customers, and he had a knack of remembering a patron’s name, face, and beverage, even if that person had only been in once before. I figured he must have a photographic memory. It served him well, shocking people with his special skill. Many jaws had dropped when he called them by name and recalled the drinks they’d ordered.

Eli and I had known each other for as many years. He moved to Crescent City from San Francisco, wanting a life away from the big city, but he was a West Coast boy. We became fast friends quickly, being close to the same age. He was two years older than me, with silver hair slightly longer than mine. Many folks teased him that he was the doppelganger of a famous actor who did westerns since he had a full mustache that encompassed his upper lip and matched his silver mane. His deep, commanding voice resonated from his gut.

“Hey, Mason,” Eli called out enthusiastically from behind the bar when he saw me walk in.

“Hi, Eli,” I replied as I took a stool at the bar. We hadn’t seen each other earlier in the day when I parked my rig.

The bar had been a popular watering hole for over twenty-five years. It hadn’t always been called Eli’s Bar and Grill, though. Eli purchased it fifteen years ago and established a flourishing clientele of locals and tourists alike. He’d remodeled it to have a more open floor plan right after he acquired the place and expanded the kitchen in the back to serve better quality food, which led to him adding the ‘and Grill’ to the signage out front.

Serving up killer cocktails and food—mainly bar-related fare—he stocked a fine collection of craft beers on tap that he changed seasonally. The decor had a cozy, somewhat nautical vibe that played well with the coastal town. The bar top itself was heavily varnished pine, about six inches thick, in a horseshoe shape that hugged the bar.

The liquor sat on clear glass shelving, illuminated by blue lighting that made the atmosphere relaxed. Blue was the accent color, with white and grey painted walls hung with large photographic prints of sailboats and beach scenes. The booths and stools had deep blue leather-look upholstery.

Eli usually had two bartenders, one on each side, who gave undivided attention to its thirsty patrons, but tonight, I noticed he was working by himself. It didn’t look all that busy, but then I realized it was a Tuesday night, and most tourists had left town since it was the end of summer.

“Looks like a slow night,” I said as I got comfortable.

“With the end of summer, the start of fall, and upcoming winter months, things take a turn. But this was a good summer for us with tourists doing road trips up and down the coast,” he said as he poured my standard IPA from the tap. “The locals will be my regulars for a while,” he added, loud enough for a guy at the bar to tip his drink our way.

“Here, here!” the man said with a smile, and I chuckled.

“How long are you in town?” Eli asked as he wiped down the bar in front of me.

“Give or take a week. I’ve been on the road for quite a while, and I’m in need of a bit of R and R. You know my condo is my fortress of solitude with that view and ocean air,” I said as I lifted the pint to my lips and took a long draught.

Eli nodded and excused himself to attend to someone who’d walked up to the bar to order a drink. Being a slow night, with only a handful of people, it looked like Eli didn’t have a server, so he was managing all fronts by himself. Other than his cook, who stayed in the kitchen.

Once the customer got their drink and put cash on the bar, Eli walked back over to me and asked, “I assume you were able to get a prime spot for your rig when you got into town?” He picked up his rag to wipe down the bar where he’d mixed the previous drink and picked up the cash.

“Oh yeah, I got my usual space,” I said.

I’d used his unpaved lot for years, and he’d given me a key to the gate of his spacious property since he trusted me. It made it easy to drive up, unlock the gate, and pull right in. I usually settled the lot charge with him when I headed out, not knowing how long I’d be in town.

I was a bit disappointed that so few people were in the bar, with barely a hush of conversation floating in the air. Slow music played in the background, but I couldn’t tell if it was country or soft rock. Maybe I was expecting too much, but I’d be here for a week and would run into more locals I knew.

Suddenly, the thought of Connor sitting beside me at the bar gave me a bit of a flush. I missed his company and youthful energy, which seemed weird, considering we only had one brief time together. But he’d made a memorable impression.

“I can smell rubber burning,” Eli said with a smirk, both hands braced on the bar in front of me. He knew I could be in my head at times, and he did his best to break that habit and pull me back to the present.

“Yeah, okay, you caught me,” I said, looking up from my glass with a smile. “Just thinking about a particular hitchhiking college student I gave a lift to. He was headed to Eastern Oregon University, and I had a delivery in that town anyway.”

I hadn’t expected to go into what I was thinking about, but I’d always confided in Eli, either for support…or a stern lecture.

“I’m surprised you picked up a hitchhiker since I know you don’t normally do that,” Eli said in a low voice and with a tilt of his head.

“He came up to my truck when I was getting ready to head out of a rest area and almost begged for a ride. He was trying to get to school on time, and he knew he wouldn’t make it on foot at the rate he was traveling,” I explained.

“When did this happen?” he asked, looking at me with a slight squint.

“Almost two weeks ago,” I said, waiting for Eli to continue his questioning.

“Huh,” he huffed. “Must have made an impression on you to be still thinking of him.” I couldn’t deny that statement.

I’d just put my glass down after finishing off my pint when Eli grabbed it off the coaster to give me a refill.

“He did leave an impression,” I said as I nodded. “He’s a first-year grad student, and we had a great conversation during the drive. He’s focused, determined, and has the beginning of his life plan thought out.”

I looked down at the fresh pint. “I was never that driven when I finished college. I guess he just impressed me,” I said, hoping that might end his curiosity.

It didn’t.

Eli held up a finger and signaled he wanted to know more. He said he’d be right back after heading to the far end of the bar to refill someone’s drink.

Did I want to go into more detail about Connor? I really wanted to tell Eli about his green eyes and the impact they had on me, but it felt a little weird. Eli knew my past—we’d been friends for almost twenty years—and I’d always trusted him to keep my confidence.

When Eli came back after closing someone’s bar tab out, he leaned over and whispered, “There’s something you’re not sharing.”

This was it. I figure I need to get it off my chest.

“Okay…” I started after a brief pause. “When this college student, his name’s Connor, came up to my cab door and looked at me, I was taken aback.” Eli looked at me with a furrowed brow. “He had the same emerald-green eyes Claudia had. I mean, it shook me to my core.”

With that, Eli looked at me with a wide-eyed stare. After a few seconds of silence, I looked around and saw no one was paying us any attention.

“Jesus Christ,” he said with a furrowed brow. I could almost see his thoughts go back in time as he remembered the brilliance of my deceased wife’s eyes. Everyone in our circle of friends had commented on Claudia and her emerald eyes, which sometimes embarrassed her.

My throat tightened, and my eyes pricked. Maybe it was being back in Crescent City so soon after meeting Connor. The town and my condo had suddenly become painful memories.

“Yeah,” I muttered. I looked down, my eyes filled with moisture. I took a deep breath to compose myself and let it out slowly. I blinked hard, and I looked up at Eli, and I could see the empathy he held for me. The second beer had relaxed me enough to splinter my thoughts, bringing my shielded emotions to the surface. Perhaps it was being back here where Claudia and I shared a life and the ghost of the painful memories.

I never showed emotion. I’d placed armor around my heart when Claudia died and vowed never to feel again, whether love or loss. But my memories were a precious commodity, and sometimes emotions surfaced when I thought of her. It had been ten years since death stole her from me. Fucking cancer!

Grief never ends. Like the rolling tide, it comes in waves, and you never truly get over it. You battle through and do your best to keep moving forward. There’s also no time limit. We’re all subject to death’s sting at some point, our parents, siblings, friends, or spouses. I’d suffered through three of the four in my forty-eight years, and each one hurt deeply.

The night hadn’t turned out the way I expected. I could tell Eli had given me space to reflect, but after my confession, I just wanted to head home. I’m sure he sensed it too. With a heavy sigh, Eli gently said, “I’m sorry, Mason. I know it can still be painful even after all these years.” His friendly look of concern was a slight comfort.

I decided to finish my beer and head home. Eli attended to his other customers and left me sitting with my thoughts. I pulled my wallet out to pay, but Eli waved his hand and told me it was on the house. I instinctively threw a five-dollar bill down for a tip. Giving him a quick but sad smile, I said, “Thanks for the ear and the beers, my friend. I’m sure you’ll see me during the week.”

With a sad smile, Eli told me to drive safe and have a good night as I got off the stool. It was dark outside, and I took in the salty ocean air as I stepped out into the comfortable, balmy night and headed to my SUV.

My thoughts were bouncing between Claudia and Connor, and they haunted me as I drove home.