Keys of Life

Chapter 9: Smithy

Chapter Nine: Smithy

   It was times like these that a best friend would come in handy. I'd just closed the bar, ushered out the few people who were still nursing their pints of beer. Flopping down on the recently vacated sofa, I vowed never to get up again. The doorbell rang. In my experience, nothing good ever came from that electric chime, and Jason would've sorted it all without me needing to even twitch a single finger.

   "We're not open!" I called, but it was only followed by an insistent rapping on the wood of the door. Sighing, I managed to get up again and started to make my way to the sound; nearly tripping over rugs I could have sworn hadn't been there a second ago. I gave a cursory glance, scanning the bar to make sure that everything seemed vaguely normal. It wouldn't do for an inner city bar to look a little threatening, now, would it?

   I turned the lock and threw open the door. I was greeted by a blonde head of curls, and a face I had seen once and never again. Until now. "Autumn?" I asked, sure of the answer despite my questioning tone. She looked uneasy, as if she hated to be here but had no choice.

   "Can I come in?" I stepped aside, gesturing with my hand that she could enter. I made my way to one of the less grimy tables, wiping it with the tea towel that was slung over my shoulder before sitting down. She perched gingerly on the edge of the seat. Autumn had never been keen on me, not since the day we met. I didn't particularly like her either, if I was truthful. I found that she was pushy, obnoxious and far too fond of manipulating people for my tastes. Then again, any girlfriend of Jason's had never exactly been my best buddy. 

   "I'm sorry to intrude." It didn't sound particularly sincere, more like she was regretful of the fact she needed to come within ten feet of me. "Jason's sister called me last night. I don't know what to say to her. I was supposed to be going on holiday this morning. I should be asleep." Faye seemed to be looking for everyone connected to Jason. I felt a little hurt, like I had been cast as irrelevant. I could hardly blame her for wanting to get as many opinions as possible, but she wasn't exactly going to get an objective view from someone who worshipped the ground he had walked on.

   "I don't see what this has to do with me," I said coolly. She looked sheepish, as if she was asking something she knew she shouldn't.

   "I need you to tell me what I should say. I don't know what she wants to hear, or why she's asking me. Smithy, please. I need your help." Her eyes looked wild, desperate.

   "Autumn, listen to me. All Faye wants is for you to tell her the truth. Talk about the things Jason did, the reasons you loved him, what he was like. The girl had virtually no relationship with her brother, and she just wants to know whether or not he was a good person, a brother to be proud of. She only needs a way to remember him, a piece of him that's not related to the way he affected her life." Autumn stared at me, dumbstruck. It had never occurred to her that she might just be looking for something as simple as memories, instead of whatever sinister incentives Autumn had convinced herself of. I mentally sighed. For all her good intentions and supposed sensitivity, she didn't know anything about people. "Do you want a drink?" I asked, trying to be polite and to act like this was an everyday occurrence.

   "Rum and coke, please," she said, replying in a flat monotone that convinced me she was still in a daze. I made up her drink, professionally adding ice and setting it down with a mat and napkin. She gulped from the glass, in spite of all her airs of sophistication looking like a resident alcoholic. "Do you miss him?" It was the second time in three days someone had asked me that question.

   "Of course I do. It doesn't help me to dwell on it though, to think through all of the things that might have been. I just hope he's happy where ever he is and try and carry on normally until one day, that ordinariness becomes more than just pretence." I avoided the question of my feelings for the not-so-recently departed. She nodded at this, still sipping her drink.

   "I had everything planned out. We were going to have children, and a dog. It should have happened. We should have been a family." I nearly choked on my laughter. Jason wasn't exactly a 'family' man, and I had been amazed when he had stayed with the girl for so long. Still, at twenty-three, I hardly thought he was finished playing the scene. Or maybe I just hoped that he wasn't, hoped that he'd try something new.               

   "Autumn, maybe things wouldn't have worked out like that, anyway. Maybe your dog would have died, or maybe you would've gotten divorced. You're not a widow. You might have loved him, but you can love other people, too. Jason would've wanted you to move on. It's been a year." I ignored her expression of protest. "Talk to Faye. Tell her about Jason. Then get over it all, put it behind you." I seemed to be an agony aunt to everyone, these days. I missed my tough persona. It had made me feel so manly.

  "It would've. I know that it would have been perfect." She didn't seem to have heard me, still living her virtual life that never had the chance to become reality. Sometimes, people refuse to believe what they know is true. They think that if they accept the logic of an argument, then what they feel they deserve, or even the emotions they have, are inconsequential, and that makes them just another of the universe's pawns instead of the master of their fate. We sat in silence for a while, Autumn staring straight ahead in a trance. Suddenly, her eyes seemed to come back, to refocus on where she was. With a shuddering breath, she drained the last few drops from her glass.  

   "Look, Autumn. I need to lock the place up. You're welcome to come back to mine to talk for a bit, but it is one o'clock in the morning, and you look like you need some sleep." I glanced at her petite frame. She was slight enough that the rum and coke seemed like it could have floored her.  

   "I'll go home. Smithy, thanks for listening." In an unexpected gesture of fondness, she hugged me, before making her way to the door. As soon as I heard the latch click, I sank down onto the sofa. Everything seemed better with a well-timed nap.