Chapter 3
Huddled into a corner of the bus shelter Jamie pulled her hood tighter over her head and looked out to the road, hoping the car lights wouldn’t betray her position. Wind-carried rain soaked every inch of her skin, coming to a cold drip at the end of her nose. Twenty-one and no wheels, it was mortifying. Not again. Never again. All that money spent on therapy and where did it take her? To a miserable bus stop in the dark, still alone. Still struggling. Jamie knew what she would do, she’d cancel the rest of the sessions and open The Swan instead at 5 like she was scheduled to do. Jamie liked the bar, she was a good at it. The regulars usually took a shine to her and it was simple work. Take an order, deliver with a smile. Her male punters being as generous with their tips as she was with their spirits. The extra tips almost made the job worth while. While she served craft beer and wine from Napa Valley her mind was distracted from the wandering of what else she could be doing with her life. The hours worked for her, late week nights, long weekend shifts spent closing late into the night kept her from family commitments and for that much she was glad, that and because The Mother wouldn’t dare place her precious Annabella in such a ‘squalid, filthy hole’. Of course living above the bar was the best part of the job. The small pokey bedsit was barely enough room for one small human but it was hers along with the freedom and independence from The Mother.
Vivian hurries through door, her heels tapping down the stone steps, if she rushes she can be home in time to put her boys to bed at 7 and Owen can get back to work. Silicon Valley living comes with a price, usually the cost of relaxed or romantic evenings with her husband or weekends away since work deadlines materialized faster than their flimsy, last-minute, plans. Seemingly single parenting whilst navigating school parent-participation commitments, extra-curricula activities for Miles and Moses, day-care pick-ups as well as keeping the fridge stocked, the house clean and a healthy home cooked meal on the table ready for Owen at 6:30pm, too late for the kids to eat but how else was family time supposed to fit in? Vivian’s live was a desperate balance on a teeter-totter, hard enough with her regularly absent husband and three children. Her mother-in-law Nancy certainly added to the chaos. God! Why did she have to get stuck with her?
Vivian rushed outside, feet threatening to throw her off balance as her shoes clicked along the sidewalk. Stopping short and feeling disoriented she looked up and down the street for her car, sure that she’d left it there not less than hour ago. Vivian often forgot where she parked her vehicle; the multiple trips to grocery stores, endless visits for children’s check-ups, school events as well as the last minute purchases for items the children ‘desperately’ needed often left her in total confusion. Her keys were her best friend in these situations. A few simple clicks of the fob would have her following the orange flashes and obnoxious beeps to wherever she had last abandoned it. Life would be much easier if she used the electric car charging spaces - they were always easy to locate and in prime position outside the store, but plugging it in and dragging three children across parking lots was just too much, besides, time was always short and she could afford to charge it at home so why bother creating additional work for herself? Opening her purse and groping around for the plastic fob a thought struck her. In her rush to leave home she had slipped into the car and thrown her keys on the passenger seat beside her, where in her similar rush to the therapy session there the keys remained on the passenger seat of her new black Tesla. Her very expensive and very missing black Tesla.
“No?! No! Oh for the love of Fuck Almighty!”.
“Now thats a God I can believe in V! Don’t mind the rain, run along before your doo sees a drop!”. Frankie’s dulcet tones cut through Vivian’s disbelief and reality hits.
“My cars gone! I parked it here and now it’s gone!”
Vivian bursts into tears, the heavy rain falling on her face adding dramatically to the effect. Frankie couldn’t help but think for such a beautiful woman she was such an ugly crier, she reminded her of her mother. “Jo, get over here will you?”. She had never been any good at consoling, despite her mother’s many dramatic demonstrations. Frankie could never understand her mothers woes, why her self-inflicted wounds derived from her complex and intricate social life often left her crippled and sobbing to her only daughter. How Frankie was unable according to her mother ‘to begin to understand my pain’ and ‘couldn’t fathom how it felt to be unloved’. There were a great many things Frankie could do, but this was not one of them. “Where’s the damn therapist when you need her?”. Her voice carries through the wind and the rain, catching Jamie’s attention.
Ah shit they saw her, maybe they felt sorry for her and wanted to offer her a lift? Jamie considered her options, she could ignore them but she wasn’t an asshole. She didn’t want their pity but it would be good to get home and dry before her already late shift. Glancing across the street she made out the snowflake woman standing with her arms bent over her head looking stricken, was she crying? Not two minutes out of therapy already and yet - help! Tragedy has struck! What was her name again? Here goes nothing. Running across the slick city street dirty water sprays Jamie’s jeans and drips into her fake leather boots leaving her feet cold and saturated. With the offer of a free ride to work fading fast, she really would be pissed if she missed her bus to play a part in Snowflake’s drama.
Jamie wasn’t sure how to approach the situation. She had no money, no transport and at 21 years old didn’t have much life experience to draw on. “Some criminal’s only gone and stolen her car!” Frankie says matter of factly, “and they picked the best night for it too, couldn’t get any wetter if we tried!”. Mei-Lin comes down the steps, her translucent plastic umbrella staving of water. “Mei-Lin! Can you believe it? Vivian’s cars been nicked!”. Mei-Lin enters our triad, feigning interest but trying to be polite “I’m sorry Frankie, what do you mean ‘nicked’?”, “Stolen, lifted, filched. You know, shanghaied!”. “Oh that’s terrible, I feel so sorry for you.”
“Well V, you’re welcome to share my Lift but it won’t be here for another 6 minutes. Jo you don’t drive do you?”.
“Not yet no, I’m taking the bus. I have a pass if you want.”, Jamie’s flushes, at her inability to do anything but proffer a bus card and her obvious lack of funds to order personal rides, she bet Frankie didn’t even use the shared ride option. And speaking of Frankie, she couldn’t even remember her name! So much for ‘safe spaces, belonging and acceptance’! never mind though she won’t see these people again. “Sorry about your car though!” she mumbles and heads back to her isolated shelter.
Two minutes later blinding lights of approach, still no bus. God dammit! At this rate there’s almost no point even opening up the bar, between the rain keeping people away and locked door way past the the 6pm opening time. Any of the regulars braving the rain will have jaunted across the street to the fancy bar and pay through the nose for pretentious cocktails instead. Jamie just hopes her manager doesn’t come to check the place out. If she applies her tips to the nightly takings for the next couple of weeks she might just balance the cash register and money won’t be as tight without the added therapy cost. A pang of guilt washes through her, Ana will wonder why she didn’t come back, perhaps she will think Jamie is fickle or a time waster. Maybe it will be better without Jamie’s sorry story of a life, seeing how tonights group therapy went, Snowflake probably has enough to keep the group enthralled with her mother-in-law horror stories.
The car approaching slows and rolls down the window, from the passenger seat Frankie’s face beams up at her, “Hey Jo! Mei-Lin here is going to take us for a joy ride. Come on, hop in!”. Confused Jamie considered her options. Keep waiting for this already no show of a bus to magically appear or take her chance with three almost strangers undergoing psychological therapy. For the first time in what seems like forever she grins, runs to the drivers side and nestles herself next to a red-eyed but thankfully not crying Vivian.
“Since you are off to work by the looks of it with your bartender attire I guess we take you first?”, I’m amazed at Frankies boldness. Not her car, not her driving but she sits here calling the shots! She must be a ball breaker at work. Maybe that’s why she’s not wearing a wedding ring? Divorcee? Brown shoulder length, straight cut hair, her bangs adding a solid feature to her face, tailored pantsuit. Small leather rectangular purse, basic but no frills nonsense. Perhaps she’s a manager, definitely a professional of something. “The Swan isn’t it? Alright Mei-Lin? I’ll get it on the map for you, take a left out of here, that’s it.” Just wow. For a woman who can’t get my name right she can sure remember the name of a tavern.
Mei-Lin pulls up to The Swan, dimly lit and obviously closed. There’s no trace of anyone loitering, toking a cigarette or waiting for a Lyft to arrive. Still it's not the kind of place she’d frequent with or without her husband. “Well, that’s me thanks for the ride it was really kind of you.” Jamie jumps out the car, fumbling already for the keys her hands shaking from the wetness and cold and the need to get this place up and on the go as soon as she can. She wants to look back and wave but feels that would be childish. Crossing the floor Jamie enters the bar area, leaning heavily against the counter and breathes deeply as tears rise menacingly again. The overpowering odor of stale beer used to overwhelm and nauseate her but now she finds it comforting. When the time comes to finally dig herself out of this slum of a life she knows the scent will follow her nostalgically. Behind the bar Jamie finds her place as part of this family, where her regulars share intimate details of their lives; “Melissa just had her baby, she’s been trying two years with IVF. They were about to use a surrogate!”, “signed my divorce papers, i’ll take a beer and you have a drink on me!”. Occasionally a regular would be down on their luck and Jamie would offer them a drink “on the house” she’d say with a wink. Jamie didn’t have much to offer others in her life, but when she did, she gave what she could.
Life at the bar brought a diverse and often rambunctious crowd, but it was her crowd. When the door finally closed so did the drama. No late texts from unhappy punters, no games and manipulation, no walking on egg-shells waiting for the next crises to erupt.
The vodka is conveniently eye level and within arms reach, so she pours herself a shot. And then another. Feeling already warmer she runs to the back entrance dashing up the stairs leading to her bed-sit. The small scale of the room allows Jamie to peel off her wet layers and add fresh jeans and long-sleeved shirt to her damp skin before the mandatory T-shirt. Grabbing her brush, she rakes the wet hair off her face, gathering it into a pony tail. A knocking at the door alerts her, securing her hair in an elastic she makes her way back down flipping on the lights and the heating as she passes, pausing to turn on the electrics for the cash register, pool table and juke box. The TV can wait, she hasn’t got time to filter through for the sports channels.
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