The Graduate (Glee - Sam Evans Fan Fiction)

Chapter Ten ~ Whisky & Holly

"What can I get you?" She asks when I seat myself at the end of the bar.

This place is always reliable for a drink. They don't give a hoot who comes in here, teens, addicts; it's an absolute dump so they don't exactly object when somebody actually offers to pay up.

"Whisky. Straight." I say bluntly and she immediately turns to fetch my order. 

The place is dead. The fact that I've not been here in years means nothing when the beverage is placed before me. The amount of times I have been in this exact position is freaky. Haunting, even. The memories and regrets that have come along with sitting in this bar and embracing it's advantages are uncountable. The disturbing fact is that each of those occasions have been down to a family member of mine. My father, Nonna, my Mother. 

My mother.

The fury begins to resurface and my head spins as I knock back a sharp mouthful of the whisky. That same relief that I welcome so irregularly now is pleasant and I quickly finish off the glass.

I tap on the bar before me and the waitress steps over from her only other customer; Eddie, I think he's called. Middle-aged drunk, I remember him from back when I was living here with my Mother. 

I manage a semi-pleasant "Thank you." when she places the refilled glass on the bar before me. I can see just by the uneasy look on her face that she can tell I've been through some shit in the past hour or so.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before." She says as she tops up Eddie's glass and sits it in front of him. I cup each hand around the already half-empty glass and allow the glistening liquid to lap against the sides.

"Likewise." I nod once with an ever so slightly manipulative smile before I knock back the last of this glass.

"You don't look like a twenty-one year old." She remarks with a raised brow. From what I can see she doesn't seem all that fazed by my attitude.

"That's because I'm not." I say and she doesn't appear to object in any form of expression. 

"So what? Eighteen?" She guesses, the corners of her glossed lips turning upwards slightly. I shake my head with a matched expression and can't help but feel a little surprised when she swipes my glass from the bar and refills it once more.

"Guess again." I say as she passes it back over. I nod in blunt appreciation. She doesn't answer for a moment or two and so my impatient conscience corrects her.

"Sixteen." 

Sure, Danny never used to question my age when I used to come in here but, that was particularly because I'd always told him that I was eighteen and he'd always believed me. Even then he didn't care if I was "underage", despite the fact that I was far more under the age boundary than he'd thought. 

"So, what happened?" Her voice chimes in to my brief absence and I look up at her before swigging from the very nearly empty glass in my hands.

Do I really look that damaged? Damaged enough that a stranger can identify my misery just by looking at me? I suppose that the fact I'm sitting in a bar at the age of sixteen and drinking myself to oblivian doesn't really help this first impression that we seem to be obtaining. 

"My mother happened." I scoff under my breath, only just loud enough for her to hear. I knock back the remainder of the glass and nod for another almost instantly, this time around she looks a little more hesitant. I can't see the age-issue bothering her too much, though.

"It's a long story." I say as she tops up the glass. My head begins to fuzz as the fury of the past two hours begins to seep through the cracks that the booze has been sealing.

"I got time." She says, her accent is pleasant. One of those ones that you could never get tired or agitated by. 

"You clearly got time." She gestures to me with the glass in hand before setting it directly before me. This time I don't touch it immediately.

"Whatever it is, it must have hit you hard considering you're sat here drinking yourself to god knows what." She says and I can hear a flicker of concern in her tone.

I sigh at a tiringly slow pace before I decide to conclude.

"Aloholic mother, deceased father, lesbian sister." I breathe, swiping the glass from it's position on the bar and knocking back the entirety of it's contents.

"You feel me?" I breathe amusedly. All I can seem to do at this fuzzy moment it find humour in my miserable life. Obviously Santana is my everything, nothing would ever change that and I've always supported her homosexuality. But everything that is wrong with my life has been down to my mother.

"What's your name?" She asks over the increasingly comfortable silence.

"Teegan." I say, my mouth dry and my head fuzzing completely.

"I'm Holly." She says with a smile, and it's the first time it hasn't appeared to be full of pity. I match her kind expression intently and bring my hands to my fuzzing head. 

"The way I see it," She exhales heavily and I peer up at her, "everything that brings you down in life, everything that damages you, it ain't worth holding on to." She says, stepping closer and resting her elbows on the bar about a foot from where I am seated. 

The words course my mind for a moment and I allow my lips to curl in to the most genuinely grateful smile that I have managed all day. When she returns the expression, I can't help but let down the barrier and feel the warmth of my wettening cheeks.