여섯
Zachary A. Choi
HAUNTINGLY I SIT ALONE, in perturbed quiet.
MacIveys feels like a ghost town, an island without any life, now that Imani's soft whisper is no longer surging all the way from Tottenham.
I press my thumb and two index fingers on the curve of my glass. My eyes hold a steely, penetrative gaze at her empty bar stool, that still has remnants of what she smells like, snicking my air. It is like my eyes are trying to trick me into thinking I can stir her return when she could be easily be a ghost, instructed to torture a lonely soul like mine.
I take slow, indulged sips of my malty beer thinking about all the ways I could've savoured and saved her company.
It was the first time, in a long time, where I was excited about tomorrow. But, that is what is wrong... why have I banked such important hopes on a person I met for the first time today?
I think it is because it is the first time, in a long time, I am not rushing to compare every shadowy face to my ex and how impossibly high she set the standards.
Under the expanse of the inky night, in a bar as sparse as MacIveys, it reminds me of all ways that I am frustratingly lonely now that Imani has gone, like a thief in the night.
It also reminders me that love might never be in the cards for me.
My mum hates when I talk so careless because it is so easy for these misspoken words to manifest but it is true. Even if, I am every bit patient, I don't know if I'll ever find or be able to gamble on the kind of love I'm after.
I've tried dating in this digital age because I have seen so many scores of it working. Yet, I can't say that I am a beneficiary. Women are often after relationships that have the hallmarks of non-commitment and are largely undefined. And for those that want a relationship that is intentional, something I want to, our worlds don't meld.
So, here I sit, fingers tapping on the sticky wood... alone.
I take another pensive sip of my drink, eyes stationed on the black folding doors for Tobenna and his braided head top. We said that we'd meet here at eleven, so I don't know why I am still waiting for him at 11:47 PM.
"Ah." Willy observes that the barstool next to me, is empty. "Where did trouble go?" He asks, in his East End twang which is underscored by the rhythmic clinking of shot glasses in the hook of his arm.
I check my watch, "Imani?"
"Pretty thing didn't tell me her name." Willy clucks as his beard is a dense thicket of coarse, dark strands that frame his jawline. He moves around the bar, his hands instinctively grabbing at a cloth to wipe down the dirty glass in his hand.
"She said she had to go." I say as I bury my forearm into the pocket of my suit jacket, searching for my AMEX.
"You look disappointed, mate."
"A little." I admit. "I liked talking to her, since you know..." In doing so, my fingers skim the crumbled notepaper with her scribbled digits.
"I get it, cheese. Pretty thing said she likes our corner of the city so I'm sure that ain't the last you've seen of the lass."
I bring the notepaper into view and wave it slightly, showing him that I've been given a hand, by fate.
"Oh, aye."
"I thinking about whether I should call."
"What is there to think about, mate?"
"I don't know." I stutter.
"Pretty things like that won't wait on you forever."
An unfamiliar boom calls out from the back of the bar. "Will, get me a Jack 'n coke."
"In a min." Willy replies robustly, gathering himself. "Get out of your head, mate." He leaves me to consider the magnitude of his words.
MacIveys is known for its wet dog smell but the notepaper in my hands cuts through that smell. The flirty firecracker, I remember her fondly.
I am wrapped in the memory of her blended scent. The depths of her beautiful, brown eyes that etch tales of sincerity. The deft work of her hands that sought to unknot the knot in my tie that I tugged like it was my raft. My breath was stolen by how her fingers moved to unravel the fabric and navigate me out of that trapping.
I take note of each digit, in her cursive black ink.
07967 833 125 - Imani x
Each digit is like a stairway to her, sitting in an elusive high tower like she is Rapunzel and I might be her Flynn Rider. I mull over them and there is a soft tug pressing on my tongue to call, to continue what we started, sitting in these bar stools.
I'm hesitant for no other reason that it might all be in my head. That I might have totally imagined it.
Just call her? My heart theorises but my brain is an overthinking pile of mush, simmering like a pressure cooker on the verge of busting. I'm struck by so many possibilities which is making the choice harder.
If I do call, is she going to screen my call and let me hear the asinine sounds of that automated voicemail?
Or will she answer? And if she does answer, what would I even say?
And in what way is she going to answer? Like she is relieved that I've read through the maze of her quiet hints? Or maybe, the will answer a little cavalier, like I am doing too much.
Either way, I can't continue to flit from post to post, stuck within the four walls of my mind. I need to decide whether I'm about to be brave or instead pussyfoot around her hints.
"Will." I hand three cash notes to pay for my tab. "Here you are."
He eyes my outstretched hand like it is causing him offence. "There's no need for all that, boy." He remarks, rooted by the beer tap, as a bar towel is stuffed in his back pocket, coloured in scuff marks. "You helped my sister outta a hole, she and me... really appreciate it. We appreciate you."
"You sure, Will? You know I got it?"
This love, this kindness is because I helped handle his sister, Esme's divorce from her barbaric ex of a husband. He expressed an ill intent that he would make for damn sure she lost everything.
And everything meant everything. MacIveys, included.
Fortunately for him and unfortunately for her, she didn't have that kind of money where she got hire a hotshot lawyer to make the problem go away.
I took it on, without hesitation, because I refused to sit by and watch a nasty, nasty man decimate everything her and her family had worked for, when he had done nish.
"I know. You lawyers got money in pockets mate." Out of his lips, Willy is more adamant, refusing to accept my outstretched hand. He pauses, his eyes grow more earnest. "You're family now. You drink for free, here."
"Appreciate that, Will."
"Appreciate you. You want something else?"
I decline with a polite shake of the head as I still have more than half a pint to drink.
"Will." The legs of the bar stool to my left houses a new occupant, washing out the draw of her perfume. It usually is good to see my friend but I am a little beaten. There is something raw about being in the company of a beautiful woman.
"Can I get a pint of Stella? And a bag of nuts, g?"
"Tobs, good to see you brother." Willy buckles Tobenna in a brotherly dap, with his right hand pressed against his right shoulder blade, steeped in brotherliness.
"Good to see you, Will."
"You look well, cheese." Willy surmises, as he pours his lager.
"My baby been takin' real good care of me." Tobenna jests, as he plucks out his phone from his back pocket.
"If only the rest of us were so lucky." Willy jokes with a lace of crack dressed on his lips. He palms to Tobenna his order: a glass of lager and bowl of nuts, "£5.87, mate."
Tobenna nodes towards me as he takes a sip. He gestures that I need to pay my dues. "Zeus' got the tab, Will. We're celebrating the boy."
"What's the occasion?" Will asks.
"Another win notched on Zeus' belt." Tobenna's hands clasp the nook of my shoulder blade.
"You don't lose, do you, cheese? Sensational, mate."
"Thanks, Will." I sink into my shoulders as I turn my head to Tobenna, "I drink for free so you need to wrap that up yourself."
"Swear down?" Tobenna's eyes are bemused. He cuts a glance at Willy, in an attempt to verify.
Willy's own shrug affirms my point as Tobenna reluctantly hands his money over, feeling a little cheated. "Will, you gon' let me in on this too or you only showing that type of love to Zeus?"
I flick my eyebrow, in his direction.
"Don't do that." He jests, "The state that the world is in sometimes you need a lil' hand out. So yea, Will, do I get what you're giving my boy?"
"I'll make an exception, Tobs just don't go ratting out my business." Willy drives out of his lips as he hands back Tobenna his group of notes.
"Love, brother."
Willy salutes us with a nod before taking his leave.
"Broski, congratulations. To win a case of that ilk against that stoosh judge ain't an easy feat but you do it over and over, yet still remain humble and dedicated to the people 'dem. More fuckin' life, brother." Tobenna toasts me with his lager, dressed in a I just got my dick sucked shine to his face.
"Thank you, Tobs." I wolf, crashing my glass against his and knocking down the rest of my gulp.
A satisfying gulp courses down my throat, leaving a lingering sensation in the hub of my throat. My attention then again pans to the notepaper, fiddling and fumbling with it.
Tobenna takes a glance over his shoulder, searching for signs of life in MacIveys but it seems to be buried under a cloud of smoke. "Hamza, Tem and Tino are at Butterbite, you want to roll there now? Apart from these drinks, we ain't getting nothin' here."
In his view, the vibe is too tame for a Friday night. That wasn't the word that I would've used when Imani and her satiny legs were perched on that bar stool.
"That's that new hookah place?"
"Yea." Tobenna nods, "You game or you 'tryna stay here?"
I'm not sure what has given me my courage—whether it is the recent inrush of dutch courage percolating inside my bloodstream or the fact that I've found myself peeling away from the edge of the cliff but I decide to take a punt.
"Yeah, yeah. I just need to call someone real quick."
"Calm, calm. I'm about to take a piss then we cut."
I bring the notepaper back into view, taking note of each digit and transposing it to my phone. A cloud of anxiety hangs above my head as I press down on the green button. I can't put a pin in leaving whatever happened over an hour ago to fate.
I hear three or four ring before it stops and there is silence for a few seconds.
"Hello?"
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