Wake up. Work. Home. Sleep. Repeat.
Every week is the same. Every day goes by without a surprise. No excitement. No drama. No life. At least that is what Sloane believes. The highlight of her week is when her coworkers ask her to go out with them for drinks. They always go to the same bar, Tolbert’s Tavern, and always on karaoke night. Tuesdays and Fridays are their nights of fun. They always drive their separate cars in the same formation, drink the same drinks, sing the same songs and always insist on playing with her afro.
One of these days, things will change. She will let them know that Vodka Sodas and $2 PBR’s are a boring choice, singing Journey gets old, and that the more they flatten her afro, the more she wants to flatten them. That day just is not today. Or this week. Or even this month. It is probably never going to happen, but if she believes it will, she can get through the day.
Tonight seems to be going the same way it always goes. It is Friday, so that means that as soon as Jimmy walks in with his shirt partially untucked and tie unfastened, he goes straight for the bar. He sits sloppily on a stool, attempts to flirt with the bartender who is completely out of his league, and buys two drinks (one for her and one for him). Brooke walks in wearing her 9-to-5 bullshit, frumpy façade that she hides behind at work, walks to the bathroom to change, and reappears in a barely there dress and sky high heels. Doug, who is generally ignored by the masses, waits for her outside of the bathroom in hopes that worshipping the ground that she walks on and being her personal errand boy will get him closer to her heart.
Sloane walks in and automatically goes to the same table they always sit at. The table is close enough to the stage so that everyone can see Brooke when she sings “Criminal” by Fiona Apple, visible to the bar so that Jimmy can stare at his favorite bartender and order more drinks when she catches him, and big enough for Doug to use the seats to simultaneously have places to put Brooke’s stuff and keep him at least a seat away from her per her request.
But today is different. When Sloane gets to their table, there is someone already at it. Are they new? Have they never seen Sloane and her coworkers sitting at this table? Sloane pauses in awe of the change and stares at the man. The greasy mop-like mess atop his head that he calls hair, his disgusting clothes that she knows he picked up off the floor, and the pitcher of beer he is drinking by himself.
“Hey Doll, care to join me?” the man asks with a smile on his face. Sloane, a little shocked by his words, freezes. Who still uses that pet name? Comparing a grown woman to a dead-eyed kid’s toy is not flattering. Isn’t that a nickname for someone with little intelligence? She just stands there.
“Sweetie, are you going to sit down or what? I am getting a little lonely by myself,” the man says with a wink and a hiccup.
“I need for you to get up,” Sloane finally says after she regains control of her psyche.
“Excuse me?” the man says sounding a bit offended and confused.
“I need for you to get up from this table and move to another. This is MY table. My coworkers and I always sit here and I really need for you to find somewhere else to sit.”
The man gets visibly angry and stands up abruptly, moving his chair back and the table forward at the same time. Who knew this greasy man was a hot-headed Neanderthal? Everyone at the bar stares at them.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the man says with a raised and angry tone while pointing his finger at her, “Where is your name on this fucking table? I don’t see shit!”
Sloane backhands the beer list from the middle of the table to reveal the names of her coworkers and herself. She points down at the names to emphasize their presence. “Are you happy now you inbred, Andre the Giant looking motherfucker?”
The Neanderthal turns red with rage. “You stupid black bitch!” He draws his arm back to hit her.
Suddenly, a man runs up and tries to stop the situation. “Calm down big guy!” The Neanderthal disregards the man and pushes him away mid-step, knocking him unconscious when he hits the floor. Sloan takes this opportunity to strike. She jumps over the table and punches the Neanderthal in the gut. He, caught off-guard and unsure if he is in pain or not, grabs his stomach. Sloane then steps on his foot, thrusts her right elbow up to his nose, and swings her left arm backwards to use the back of her fist to punch him in the groin all in one fluid motion. The Neanderthal falls over and grabs himself in pain.
Sloane stands in front of the giant man on the ground with an emotionless face. She is breathing hard. When her adrenaline finally starts dying down, she realizes the people in the bar are clapping. A smirk goes across her face. “I guess that S.I.N.G. thing from ‘Miss Congeniality’ actually works,” she thinks to herself.
Sloane surveys the scene and notices that the man that tried to save her is still on the ground. She runs over to him and yells for someone to get her a towel and some water. She cradles his head in concern for his well-being. When she gets the water, she throws it in the man’s face. He wakes up suddenly and, realizing that his head is on some girl’s lap, starts to blush and get up. “No, don’t get up,” Sloane says, “Let me make sure you’re ok first.”
She gently wipes the blood off of his face with the towel. He just stares at her while he feels the blood rushing to his face. He hopes that she thinks that he is flushed from being hurt rather than from being touched by woman. When she is done, she tells him that he should try to stand up. He tries to get up very slowly and holds his head. “Hold on, I think I have some Aleve in my purse.” Sloane walks around looking for her bag. The man just stands and watches her, his eyes following her every move. “Oh, I found it,” she says as she walks back over to him, “It must have gotten lost in the altercation.” She giggles and looks in her purse for the pill bottle. When she locates it, she opens the bottle and hands the man two tablets. He swallows them dry.
“Do you think you can get home?” Sloane asks the man. He pauses for a second and then tries to walk. He staggers for a bit and stops. “Ok, let’s sit down for a while.” Sloane leads him to her and her coworker’s table. It feels weird to her because it is out of place and there is still a man writhing in pain next to it. Why is this man still on the ground? Have they not called the cops yet?
“Are you ok?” the man asks her. Sloane looks at the man with a befuddled face. Why is he so concerned with her when he was just unconscious?
“Yes, I think I am fine. I’m just a little shaken up,” Sloane replies, “I’m more concerned about you right now.”
“Are you sure? You look a little out of it.”
“The pain is finally getting to me. I guess my adrenaline rush has gone away,” Sloane says with a forced grin. “I think I have to go find my coworkers, I haven’t seen them since I walked in.”
Sloane gets up and looks around the bar for her co-workers. The only thing in sight is a mash of colors from the people around the building blending together. Her smile turns into a frown when she can’t find them. She continues to scan the crowd from her seat.
“Maybe they will find you. You should just sit down and wait,” the man says to Sloane, “My name is Liam by the way.”
“I’m Sloane,” she says as the doorman finally rolls the Neanderthal out of the bar.
“That’s a very interesting and pretty name.”
“My father had a crush on some movie character from a John Hughes movie and named me after her.”
“You know ‘Ferris Bueller’ is actually a great movie. You should give him some credit for the reference. I mean, at least he didn’t name you something ordinary like Samantha, Claire, Allison, or Andie.”
Sloane locates her coworkers near the bar’s entrance. “That is true. I don’t think I could see myself as someone Molly Ringwald played anyways. Well, This was a great conversation and I hope that being knocked out didn’t give you a lot of brain damage,” she says as she gets up and walks towards the door.
“I’m sure it’s not any more that I would have lost if I got drunk tonight,” Liam whispers to himself.
Sloane walks away and joins her group of associates. Brooke suggests that they go to another bar at the other corner because they also have karaoke tonight. Sloane decides that she is going to go home and tells the others to go on without her. She takes one last look around the bar. Liam is nowhere to be found. That could be for the best, she didn’t need to think about the fight. Sloane gets in her car and drives home.
The lights from the streetlamps guide Sloane home while she travels in a pain riddled daze. That fight actually took a lot out of her. Passing out when she gets inside seems like the best thing she can do for herself right now.
When she pulls into the open space near her apartment, her body starts to slowly shut down. She walks through the door and gets taunted by the stairs. They know it’s going to seem like a long way up and are not going to be any nicer to her than they usually are. As she drags herself up to her apartment, she contemplates her life. That scene at the bar was the most exciting thing to happen to her in a while. When did her life digress to this point?
With a key in the door and a turn of the knob, she is finally inside. Now that she has thought herself out of exhaustion, she decides to grab a glass of wine to try to put her to sleep. She pours herself some Merlot and walks to the couch. “The last time I had that much fun was my senior year of College. This job had just sucked 4 years of my life away. I am 25; shouldn’t I be living it up instead of winding down?”
Sloane gets a jolt of memory, puts her glass on the coffee table and walks into the bathroom to take her pills. She needs to remember to take them. The last time she forgot, she almost went out of control. She looks in the medicine cabinet and opens the bottle containing her Lithium. After popping the pills, Sloane goes back to the couch, chugs her glass of wine and waits for the magic combination of her mood stabilizer and the Merlot to knock her out cold. She turns on the television and puts on the science fiction channel. An old show plays as she drifts off to sleep in the living room.
After watching the beautiful woman who took care of him walk away without even a back glance, Liam decides that he should go home to try to get his mind off of her. He had a feeling that he would never see that woman again, so there was no need for him to obsess over her. He gets up from the table and walks out the back door that is near the bathroom.
The brisk air makes Liam feel every bit of his sobriety and embarrassment. He cannot wait until he can get home and visit his best friend Mary Jane. The quicker he gets to her, the quicker he can forget tonight. Why did going up against that giant seem like a good idea? Maybe a damsel saving the hero in distress is the way the story goes now. Liam walks down to the corner to hail a cab. His parent’s house is so far away from downtown.
In the cab, the lights from the street blur together and the sounds from downtown fade away. The further they drive, the less lights Liam sees. At this time of night, people with families are most likely in bed. When they finally reach his parents house, he throws the cab driver a $50 bill and tells him to keep the change. He looks at the big house he grew up in with a detached look. Did the house get bigger? Liam decides that it is definitely time to go inside and visit his best friend before things start looking even more different.
Liam walks to the door and fumbles with his keys. How is he having a hard time and he isn’t even intoxicated? When he finally opens the door, he quietly walks to down to the basement and into his sanctuary. He likes to think of his room as a bachelor pad even though he never has any girls in it. He is scared of what they might find out. It is much easier just to have sex with them at their place and leave in the middle of the night. This is the best way to ensure that there is no future contact and no chance of them finding out about his life.
While it is hard being the fuck-up of the family, it is worse when they are well-known. Every mistake you make is intensified in the eye of the public because they think highly of you. Liam’s parents choose not to acknowledge him in the public and he likes it that way. The community thinks that he is off fighting some war or something his Politician parents made up to make themselves look better. They have their oldest son working as a doctor, their only daughter saving Africans from starvation, and then they have Liam, the schizophrenic deadbeat.
Liam walks over to his dresser and looks for the joint he made for himself earlier just in case he got too drunk to roll one later. When he finds it, he walks over to his bed and sits on it, hunched over with his elbows on his legs and his hands near his mouth. He has forgotten something, but what can it be? He is cradling Mary in his hands, but what else is there to do?
When Liam remembers, he opens up his nightstand drawer and takes out his pills. He pops a couple in his mouth and washes it down with some liquid that is sitting near him. He then flicks open his lighter and inhales the best herbal refreshment his parent’s money could buy. He thinks back on his night and he can still feel that giant’s fist striking his face. He replays that over and over in his mind until he lets his thoughts picture Sloane. She was so beautiful and gone so fast. He had to see her again. No other woman has ever put a longing in his heart like she has. He has to find her soon. Liam finishes his joint and lies on top of his bed. He counts the sheep that are jumping around his feet and drifts off to sleep.