May 2004

Anna’s date, Mark, was in the back making out with another woman. Anna sat at the bar, waiting for the nightmare to end. After Mark had taken her to a Chinese restaurant in the building supply store plaza, he had driven her, without asking, through the middle of nowhere to a bar in his hometown of Alton. She was carsick, and her stomach was rebelling from some questionable shrimp she’d eaten. Anna sipped ginger ale, urging the fizz to quell her turmoiled bowels. Since they had arrived a short time ago, she had discreetly made it to the bathroom, where everything she had eaten quickly and violently purged itself from her nether region, leaving behind a horrid odor which she unsuccessfully tried to disperse with a can of off-brand air freshener. When she emerged, Mark was down the hallway, his mouth half engulfing a poor woman who was pressed against the wall, seemingly enjoying his irriguous attentions.

Anna and Mark had met at the coffee shop by the campus library. He was in the Veterinary program at Cornell, she was getting her doctorate in English Literature. Throughout their meal, he’d mostly spoken of himself, and a bit about his father the dentist and mother the practice manager from the town up the lake where he’d grown up. Interspersed had been several offhanded sexist comments, along with some racist jokes about the Chinese couple who owned the restaurant. Then, he had driven them in the opposite direction of her apartment, insisting on making a “quick stop” despite Anna’s protests. His spasmodic manner of driving caused Anna to belch repeatedly into her hand. As the landscape changed from city to suburb to rolling fields dotted with farms and wineries, 40-mile-long Cayuga Lake served as the stunning backdrop for it all. Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the gravel parking lot of a two-story brick building situated on a busy corner in Alton. Anna made no move to get out of the car. She breathed in the cool spring air, willing herself not to throw up.

“Are you coming?” Mark asked.

“I don’t feel well. Would you just take me home?”

“I was hoping you’d come in for a minute at least.” He got out of the car.

“I’m car sick.”

“All the more reason for you to get out of the car.” He came around to her door and opened it, the first gentlemanly thing he’d done all evening.

The fresh air was helping, and Anna would puke for sure if they drove back now.

“Fine,” she said, not hiding her displeasure. “You know, you should ask someone before you take them somewhere.”

“Right,” Mark replied, not listening.

He ushered her up a wooden ramp that switched back at the halfway point, leading to a large, covered porch where a cluster of people were smoking. He unexpectedly pulled her hand into his as they entered the building, speaking quietly into her ear as though they were having an intimate conversation. Anna had no idea what he had said, as the competing sounds of Garth Brooks’ “Low Places” blasting from the juke box and a hockey game on the television left little bandwidth for the spoken word. Mark pointed Anna toward a seat at the bar and motioned for two drinks. She had promptly excused herself to the bathroom, narrowly avoiding disaster, and then discovered Mark and his lady friend in the hallway upon her return.

 Eschewing the beer waiting for her at the bar, Anna asked for a ginger ale and took in her surroundings. There was nothing remarkable about this bar. The room was dimly lit, with dark wood wainscoting blending into the floor of the same hue. Deep green paint accented the upper portion of the wall. TVs hung in the corners, a pool table took most of the floor space, a dartboard flashed, and a small dining room sat off to the left of the entrance.

There was a sundry assortment of people assembled. To her right, a middle-aged couple shared a bag of chips with their beer, a pack of cigarettes lying between them on the bar. Farther down stood a young woman in her early twenties, dark frizzy hair, heavy makeup, squeezed like a sausage into an outfit that was far too flashy for this establishment. Anna overheard that the woman’s name was Spaz, and she had evidently had her driver’s license revoked. Anna could reasonably surmise how, based on the quantity and rapidity with which the woman consumed cocktails. Spaz was hitting on the bartender, adjusting her considerable cleavage, and flipping her hair while trying to get him to give her a ride to someplace called Clark’s.

The bartender, whom Spaz called Jimmy despite his repeated request to be called James, caught Anna smirking while Spaz wrote down her phone number. Spaz headed out to smoke, and James gave Anna a perplexed smile as he stepped toward her and leaned on the bar.

“Can I get you anything else or are you just here for our special ginger ale?” His voice was deep and smooth.

“Actually, I came for the soap opera,” Anna teased with a mocking grin. “You’re a regular Romeo.”

James burst out laughing and said “I don’t even know you and you’re picking on me. Bill! Linda! Did you bring this woman in here to insult me?” The middle-aged couple with the chips smiled. Linda, a pretty brunette with bright red lipstick, spoke first.

“Well, I wish we’d thought of that, James, but fortunately we didn’t have to. She’s done it all on her own, smart woman,” she teased, holding an unlit Virginia Slim between polished red nails.

Bill offered introductions then asked, “What brings you here, Anna?” Bill was fit, tall, and darkly tanned with a receding hairline.

“I’m trying to get home,” Anna groaned, not hiding her annoyance. After her explosive trip to the bathroom, she had started to feel better, and the distraction at the bar was welcomed.

“Where is your ride?” asked Linda.

“He’s in the back with a woman.”

“That’s no way to treat a lady.” Bill pushed his glass to the lip of the bar for a refill. Anna’s stomach suddenly cramped painfully. Sweat formed on her scalp. Bill turned back to Anna.

“So-,” he began.

“Please excuse me,” Anna interrupted, quickly easing down from the stool as pressure built in her stomach. The cramps evolved into stabbing pain in her gut. She retraced her steps to the bathroom, noticing that odor from her last trip had seeped into the dining room.

The bathroom was gross. Covered in graffiti, the walls hadn’t been painted in years. The toilet was old and permanently stained; the floor wet with what Anna hoped was just leaking water. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, dimly illuminating water-stained ceiling tiles and spider carcasses hanging in the shadows. Anna gratefully learned that the cramps were just gas, and once the pressure was relieved, she immediately felt better. She lingered to assure herself that the crisis had passed, then set herself to rights, washed her hands and sprayed the air freshener once more. Checking herself in the mirror, her dark complexion was pale, perspiration outlining her forehead.  She dabbed her face with a paper towel, reapplied lip gloss, ran her fingers through her thick black hair and pinched her cheeks for some color. Anna’s father was Greek, accounting for her deep olive skin tone, dark hair, and angular features, complete with her Grecian nose. The only prominent feature she had inherited from her mother was her blue eyes, making a striking contrast.

The door creaked loudly on its hinges as Anna opened it and peered down the hallway. Mark and the woman were gone. Relieved at the prospect of finally getting taken home, she passed through the still stinky dining room and snuck a peek at the bar. No Mark. He must have gone out to the car. Anna beelined it to the door. On the porch, she crashed into Spaz, who was sucking down a cigarette.

“Whoa!” croaked a tipsy Spaz.

“Sorry!” Anna grabbed Spaz by the arms to steady her, then dashed toward the darkness of the pine trees and Mark’s Saab. As her eyes adjusted, she realized that the parking space was empty. Anna hurried back toward the front of the building to see if Mark had pulled around to pick her up, but there was no red Saab. No Mark.

“Are you kidding me?” Fury overcame her. That asshole left me here, knowing I wasn’t feeling well, knowing I don’t know where I am… knowing I have no way home!  “Mother fucker!” she yelled. Her voice carried in the night air, and the smokers on the porch paused in their conversation, staring at her. Anna stared back defiantly and stomped up the ramp into the bar.

“We thought you’d skipped out on your tab,” Bill remarked as Anna returned to her seat.

“My tab?”

“For the ginger ale.”

“Oh!” Anna had forgotten. She dug in her purse for a few dollars and laid them on the bar.

“We would have covered you,” Linda said with a smile.

“Thank you. That’s so nice. You don’t even know me.” She exhaled. “Hey, do you guys know Mark? He was here a few minutes ago. I went to look for him, but he’s gone. His car isn’t in the parking lot.”

“Why are you looking for Mark?” James rested his arms in the space between Anna and Bill.

“He brought me here, and now he’s gone. Do you think he’ll come back?”

James smirked. “That guy’s a jerk. You should hope he doesn’t come back. He and Michelle just left.”

“Michelle? Is that the girl he was kissing in back?”

“Yup. Those two break up and make up about every five minutes.”

That was why Mark had brought her here and held her hand. He wanted to make his girlfriend jealous. When Anna saw him again, she might punch him.

“It’d be nice if they would break out. In herpes. And stay away from this place forever,” a droll monotone voice quipped from the end of the bar. Only it sounded like, “It’d be nithe if they would break out. In herpeth. And thtay away from thith plathe forever,” because the man had a prominent lisp. He stood up, sauntered to the stool next to her, slid it closer, and sat down.

“Hi,” he said. “You’re cute. You wanna make out later?”

“No,” Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Suit yourself,” (thuit yourthelf) monotone replied, taking a swig of beer into the side of his mouth.

Bill signaled James, who poured five shots of Southern Comfort. He passed the shots out like he was dealing a deck of cards, one for each of them, including her.

“Oh, no. None for me, thanks. My stomach…” Anna trailed off, not wanting to incriminate herself in the bathroom situation, though she was feeling fine now. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t, since I’m not sure how I’m getting home.”

“Where’s home?” asked James.

“Ithaca.”

“Student?”

“Yes, grad student.”

“One drink won’t kill you,” lispy monotone guy urged from next to her. “C’mon. Have a little fun. Don’t be so uptight.” He had a long scruffy brown beard and wore a baseball cap. It was difficult to determine his age with all the facial hair, but Anna would guess late thirties.

“First, you shouldn’t say things like that to someone you’ve just met at a bar. It’s creepy.” This made James guffaw. “Second, you’d be uptight, too, if you’d had my night.” She groaned. “I should call for a ride.”

“Drink up!” urged Linda.

“Cheers!” They all clinked their glasses together. What the hell, Anna thought, before throwing back the shot. The night couldn’t get any worse. She’d endured a horrid date, a catastrophic bowel incident, and getting abandoned in the middle of nowhere by an asshole. One shot wouldn’t kill her. The liquid burned its way down and within a few minutes, things didn’t seem so bad. Anna pulled out her phone and called her friend Shannon. She left her a message and ran through her contact list, trying to remember who else had a car. She tried several others but had no luck. There was a concert on campus tonight and most of her friends were there. Anna set the phone down on the bar and waited.

“Can I get you something else?” James was back.

“No, thank you.”

“Get her a beer on me,” monotone ordered.

“No, really. I need to get home and I shouldn’t have any more. I have an outline due Monday.”

An open beer was set in front of her.

“I have to do what he says. One more while you figure out how you’re getting home.” James winked at her.

“Fine, but that’s it,” Anna said firmly, and then, “Thank you,” to monotone guy.

In the meantime, she learned that monotone lispy guy’s name was Brett. He was a formidable ball buster. Bill and Linda lived down the street. They owned a family business and had a couple of kids in college. 

Eyeing the clock and checking her phone again, Anna asked “Is there a taxi company I can call?” Another drink had appeared in front of her some time ago, and she had mindlessly sipped it while chatting. She held the bottle to her lips again and found it was empty.

“Another one down here, James!” Bill gestured toward Anna. “Don’t want her to get thirsty.”

This time she didn’t fight it. Instead, she said “I’ll buy a round for the bar, James.”  

“You got it,” James nodded.

Anna pulled her credit card from her purse and slid it across the bar. James reached for it and examined the front.

“Lazos, eh? Irish?” he said jokingly. James set up the round of drinks. “It’s on Anna,” he announced, and a small cheer erupted in the room.

Anna joked and laughed and listened. These people, whom she had just met, were more interested in her than her own family had been in years. Not that Anna had some tragic family past; it was just that her parents had their own dramas to contend with. Divorced when she was young due to her father’s infidelity, Anna’s mother, Gwen, had quickly remarried. At Gwen’s insistence, Anna had attended boarding school, though Anna longed to have a typical small-town high school experience. Gwen said she had thought it best given Anna’s aptitude for writing and love of classic literature, but Anna suspected it had been because Gwen wanted to focus on her new marriage. She supposed boarding school had helped her get accepted into Colgate and then Cornell, but Anna would rather have been part of a community like the one she was in now, where people knew and looked out for one another.

  Gwen now lived in Florida, struggling with early onset Alzheimer’s. Anna’s father, Yannis, was a travelling salesman, promoting vitamin supplements at tradeshows. He and Anna were as close as his year-round travel schedule allowed.

Anna and her new acquaintances covered a range of topics, including her upbringing, which was unusual for her. She tended to be more reserved. Excusing herself to the porch, Anna checked her cell phone again. It was approaching 11:00. None of her friends had returned her calls. She left another round of messages, including a scathing one to Mark, and then returned to the bar.

“Is there a number for a taxi?” She queried the group again as she hoisted herself back into her stool. There was a collective groan.

“You can try the one from Ithaca, but usually they say they’re sending someone, and no one comes.” James answered.

“This stinks,” Anna sighed, real concern for her situation setting in.

Brett’s eyes rolled upward.

“Speaking of stinks, let’s talk about you and the bathroom situation,” Brett lisped, spit spraying from his alliterative sentence.

Anna’s cheeks burned red. She was mortified. Adding insult to injury, the drinks had run through her, and she really had to pee.

“On that note, it’s time to break the seal,” Anna headed toward the bathroom.

“Oh, god, not again. If this is breaking the seal what were the last two times?  We’ll have to fumigate.” The bar filled with laughter.

“I am so sorry! This is beyond embarrassing,” Anna called as she escaped to the bathroom once more. Even hours later, the odor lingered. After she peed, she doused the air with CFC-filled spray again, making a marginal improvement. She coughed as the perfumed particles assaulted her lungs.

With nothing more to be done, Anna braced herself and opened the door. For some reason, she wanted these people to like her. Laughter hung in the air. What the hell, she muttered under her breath.  She strode back to her barstool and declared, “Nobody light a match. The whole place will go up.” Laughter erupted.

 “Everything come out ok?” asked Brett.

 Bill said, “My God, woman. What did you eat?” 

“You don’t want to know. I may never be able to eat Chinese food again.”

“Neither will we,” James said.

“I am so sorry!” Anna exclaimed. “I couldn’t help it. It was food poisoning. Plus,” she grinned impishly, “I didn’t think I’d be here long enough to get caught.”

“No wonder Mark left you here,” James said with another wink.

 Spaz returned from yet another smoke break as the laughter was dying down, the odor of smoke hanging about her like Pigpen’s dust cloud from Charlie Brown.

“What’d I miss?” she rasped loudly.

“We’ve been sharing an intimate moment with Anna,” Brett drawled, sounding like Eeyore.

“Who’s Anna? You?” she barked.

Anna nodded. 

“Tell me what’s so funny then, guys,” Spaz demanded, dismissing Anna.

“You had to be there, Spaz,” James said turning his back and busying himself.

“I’m sorry!” Anna reiterated to the group.

James reached across the bar and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Don’t worry, Anna. We still like you.” His bright blue eyes twinkled. Anna’s shoulder tingled from where James had touched it. She smiled stupidly back at him. She wondered if she would ever find herself in this place again, with these wonderful people.

James handed her a number and the address of the bar on a piece of paper. “Taxi company,” he said.

 Anna dialed, spoke with the dispatcher, and ended the call with a frown. “An hour,” she groaned.

“I’ll be shocked if they actually show. You might as well have another drink while you wait. This one’s on the house.” James smiled at her kindly, then with a mischievous glean in his eye, “So, what did you order for dinner? The Pu Pu Platter?”

“All right!” Anna held her hands up in surrender. “I’ve learned you can’t get a cab around here, but does anyone have some fresh pants?”

Linda was wiping her eyes. “This will never get old. Imagine… the first time you meet people…” she trailed off, giggling to herself. “Thank God it happened to you and not me!”

“It won’t be as funny when I’m not here to pick on.” Anna couldn’t remember a time when she’d laughed so hard.

“You have to come back.” Bill ordered. “We like you.”

“After the way I’ve been treated?” Anna joked, though she felt a bit melancholy. Her chances of returning were slim to none.

“What about the way we’ve been treated?” groaned James. “I think even my sense of taste has been affected.”

“Did you have any taste to begin with?” Anna shot back.

James laughed. “Nope. Not in the least.”

James was in law school at Cornell. He was appealing; the way he worked the bar, able to hold a conversation while simultaneously attending to customers. He was intelligent, funny, and attractive in his jeans and a close-fitting t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest. A baseball hat hid piercing blue eyes and dark hair. His hearty belly laugh came easily, his deep voice carrying. 

Anna felt a pang of nostalgia for these people she had just met. She was anxious about the taxi but was not disappointed to spend more time there. The night had turned out better than she ever could have imagined.

Next Chapter: A Stranger at the Door