memento vivere

chapter twelve

Despite never having drank a single drop of alcohol in my life, I find myself sitting in a bar at 8:30 in the morning. Well, I'm sitting at a booth towards the back, watching the people at the actual bar but whatever. A few of them are in an arm wrestling match, the mood way too hype, leading me to believe they've pulled an all-nighter. Then there's a few of the ones that got off the bus with me.. Loner types brooding in the florescent colored shadows. I guess they had the same idea I did.

After riding the bus with no real destination in mind and hearing Trixie mention the place, I figured what better way to make myself feel better than to drink away the sorrows surrounded by like minded individuals. Meanwhile the only 'drink' sitting in front of me is a sweating glass of water with a single slice of lemon. I just can't bring myself to order anything else yet. I find that I'm glancing at the clock every so often because I know I should be getting home but I can't bring myself to do that either. I'm too busy living as Eddie the Elusive Elf reminded me to do so and in case you haven't noticed, I finally figured out what he reminds me of.

It's just that there's nothing there for me. Nothing emotionally anyway. Not anymore. There hasn't been for a while, if we're being honest. After every little altercation, it's like I can feel the bonds breaking, the tethers tying me to the place are snapping. I think the last one is a mere frayed string at this point. You might say 'But what about the happy memories? Your Mama would want you to stay. Shouldn't that be enough?' But let's be honest. Any trace of her has been long gone from that house. For years. That version of her anyway. That person disappeared way before Dad and that bitch moved in. After that, any remaining hidden pieces were practically scrubbed from the crevices with a fine tooth comb.

Besides, there's always the flip side.. What if those 'happy memories' are just a mirage? I go back and pretend all is well based on what? Illusions? Ghosts of what used to be? I mean were they really as happy as I remember or is that me being naive again, choosing to see through the rose tinted glasses over the stark, harsh reality?

But enough of that.

I came here to make myself feel better and that's what I plan on doing. I think.

I flag down the attending waitress, a short purple haired woman covered in tattoos, and as she arrives to the table, I get the look I knew was coming. The 'Who let this one slip out of the daycare' look. Besides resembling an infant, I'm sure not actually being old enough to drink doesn't help matters either.. But hopefully my fake ID will suffice.. I grab my wallet out of my bag and then my card, holding it towards her with two fingers like the cool, laid back cat I am..

She looks at it, her eyes scanning and I can see the exact moment everything goes to shit. The fucking age vs the picture.. I knew it'd fuck me over one day. Before I even get the chance to fully freak out though, she laughs.

Busted.

I should've known. Why did I get off the bus.

"Just tell me what you want and it's on the house. And I take the ID."

I'm pretty sure I look like a deer caught in headlights because I didn't think it'd go this route. Or that I'd get this far, really. Or so easily at that. Better yet, maybe I should still test the waters. This feels like a trap. I flick the ID back away from her, my stare accusing as if she's the one sneaking into the bar.

"You're setting me up, right? Where's the badge.."

She, or Alexas based on her name tag, laughs again and holds the drink tray against her chest before she sits down across the table from me.

"No badge. Not a set up. I just know what happens to young girls around this area and I'm not gonna let it happen at my bar.."

The two missing persons posters on the wall behind her tells me exactly what she's talking about and it takes everything within my power to keep from replacing the images with my own.