Conversations With Jack & Diane
Bar Fly
Diane had tracked him down at the seedy little bar. It stood
on the corner of Haili and Keawe streets in downtown Hilo. The
infamous 50th State Bar, it’s neon sign buzzing incessantly, a light
drizzle coating it’s heated surface.
A chill ran up her spine as she stepped inside the dimly lit,
sour smelling establishment. Her eyes took a moment to adjust,
and before they did three men had come up to greet her. Each at
various stages of inebriation. Her blue eyes widened, and her
fists clenched. If these three thought they’d found an easy mark in
the elegantly dressed woman, they were about to get the biggest
surprize of their collective lives. As they approached, hands
drunkenly reaching out for the devastating beauty, Diane took a
step back as her fists came flying up in defense. The drunken fools
kept coming. Diane cocked her right arm and was about to let fly
a right lead that would have surely loosened some teeth!
“Whoa Sweetie!” Jack intervened, his arms gently
encircling Diane and turning her away from her quarry.
“Gentlemen,” Jack smiled. “The lady is with me...” He
held Diane at bay, her blue eyes flaring, golden hair only slightly
mussed.
The three musketeers grunted their understanding and
shuffled back to the bar, probably forgetting that Diane even
existed before they sat.
“Let go of me!” she demanded, breaking free of Jack’s
comforting hug, her breath catching in her chest. “Is this where
you’ve been these past three days?” she probed, turning to face
Jack as she adjusted her ruffled evening gown. Jack admired her,
his face aglow with the fire of rum.
“Hot date huh..?” he winked. “I’m only sorry it isn’t with
me...” He pouted, his brow furrowing.
“Well...” she offered curtly. “It looks as if your
irresponsible behavior has forced me to be your date.” She folded
her arms across her chest.
“Really?” Jack smirked, his eyes wide and glassy, but still
penetrating. “Cool...” he nodded, his arms arching in a sweeping
gesture. “Join me at my table why don’t ya...”
Diane grabbed his arm as he lost his balance. He slowly
steadied himself, no one noticing his sudden problem with
standing.
“Thank you,” he smiled. He saw the misty expression on
Diane’s face. “Ohh...” he groaned. “I’m ok love....Don’t you
worry about old Jackieboy.” He rocked slightly as he continued
smiling.
“That’s not what Jan told me,” she announced, hands on
her hips, the sweet sweep of her jaw jutting out knowingly.
Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Jan’s always been a
worrier.” He turned toward the darkness and headed for the corner
booth. Diane followed reluctantly.
Jack slid in heavily, Diane taking-up residence across from
him. Jack waved a waitress over.
“Rum for me,” he ordered, his gaze passing to Diane. She
raised her eyes to the petite waitress.
“Coffee,” she said. “For the both of us...”
Jack was about to protest, but thought better of the idea
when he saw the concern in his best friend’s eyes. He settled back,
looking up at the annoyed bar babe.
“Two coffee’s,” he slurred. She scribbled something on
her pad and disappeared.
“What the hell’s going on Jack?” Diane immediately
demanded. “I thought you were past this sort of display. Have you
already forgotten your stay in the hospital just a few months ago?”
She rubbed her hand after realizing she had pounded the table in
agitation. Jack didn’t answer. He avoided her gaze.
“Why can’t you ever come to me before going off on one
of these patented binges of yours?” She sat back, rubbing her
burning eyes. “Maybe you’d fine that all of this was unnecessary
if you just took the time to lean on your friends once in a while.”
“I’m not a leaner,” Jack pouted. “I’m a grown man. I can
handle it.”
“How!” Diane shouted, her eyes scanning the room to see
if anyone had heard the outburst. No one could have cared less.
She shouted again. “How?! Tell me how Jack. By drowning
yourself in liquor?”
He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke
out into the heavy gloom.
“Your smoking now!?” Diane raged. “How many god
damned ways do you need to kill yourself?” she fumed.
Jack shrugged, taking another drag. “If you don’t want to
be here,” he announced. “Feel free to leave...” He refused to
make eye contact.
Diane picked-up a small pepper shaker from the table, it
was the most handy object. In a rage fired by a natural temper, she
threw it at Jack, the small porcelain container bouncing off his
hard head.
That got his attention alright, and he finally turned and
made eye contact, a slow smile crossing his glowing face.
“You’ll have to do better than (?) that love...”
“Fuck you!” Diane flared, her lithe body bolting upright.
“Stay here and rot for all I care!” she spat.
The smile disappeared instantly. “No!” he begged, trying
to stand but dropping back on his butt. “Please Di,” he gasped.
Diane stood outside the booth, her expression belying the
pain she felt for her friend.
“Please Di,” he repeated, his gaze rising to her’s. “Don’t
go...”
“Fine!” she allowed, quickly wiping the tears from her face
before Jack got his focus back. “I’ll stay...But only if you promise
to get yourself straight home from this god forsaken hell hole the
minute I leave.”
Jack laughed until his eyes met Diane’s. “Ooops,” he
pleaded. “Sorry,” he offered. “I promise Di,” he swore, putting
out the cigarette. Unfortunately he had missed the ash tray, and
the old hardwood table inherited yet another nasty puck mark.
Diane sat down. “Don’t you think it’s time you talk to
someone about what’s eating away at you Jack?” Her “crystal”
blue eyes relayed such empathy. She gave Jack a minute to
absorb the information. He was drunk after all.
“No can do...” he finally managed. Not because he’d been
thinking about it, but instead because it took that long for Diane’s
message to penetrate the alcoholic haze that spun his thoughts.
“Do you really wanna know?” Jack blinked, evidently
reconsidering his stance on the matter, his gaze turning on the
waitress as she sat two cups of steaming java on the table. His
hand moved to surreptitiously hide the freshly marred burn mark.
He looked at Diane, squinting his eyes in conspiratorial fervor. He
winked, but she was in no mood to play. The short waitress left
without a word.
“Yes Jack,” Diane assured him as she pushed the cup
toward his slightly shaking hands. “I wanna know...”
“Okay,” he nodded, giving-up on lifting the hot cup of
coffee. He looked at Diane, squinting his eyes again. “God
you’re(?) a beautiful woman,” he slurred.
“Thank you,” Diane smiled, pushing her own cup of java to
the side. Even if she were thirsty, which she wasn’t, she wouldn’t
have drunk from the obviously tainted goblet. “Now tell me,” she
demanded gently.
“Because,” he offered, leaning back against the soft, greasy
booth. He steadied himself, Diane’s blurry countenance finally
focussing. “Because,” he repeated. “Sometimes the pain is all I
have. If I were to let it go, I’d be completely alone...” He held her
gaze, daring her to disagree. She didn’t say a word. He continued,
leaning toward her over the steaming vapors of his coffee.
“Do you know what it’s like to stare into a mirror and see
nothing?” He smiled, pleasantly surprized, in a strange way, that
he could gather enough control to put together the words he
needed to try and explain his dilemma. He moved quickly, before
the haze caught back up.
“I stare into my own eyes and the face I see isn’t me. It’s
someone, or something else. Because in my head,” he poked
himself hard. “My face doesn’t exist! I lost myself somewhere
along the way, and now I can’t get ME back!” He braced himself
with his palms flat on the table. “There’s a place deep inside
myself,” he whispered. “I think my face is there...The painting of
myself that I use to wear is in that dark place. The canvas of who I
am, and what others know me to be is there, locked away from my
grasp like some bannished entity.”
He leaned back again, his brown eyes focussing precisely,
his thoughts coalescing, if only for a fleeting moment of clarity.
And in that clarity he saw himself as clear as if he were looking
into that mirror.
“I’m an alcoholic Diane,” he gasped in vivid realization.
“And I’ve run away from myself...” He raised his weary eyes to
that of his friend, the haze slowly recapturing him.
Diane made him drink the strong, hot coffee, then she
returned her best friend to his long suffering wife...
The End
Unpublished Works © 1997 GJB
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