Down There

Early winter, everyone is at home having lunch.

The local village bar is open. The only people in the bar are the owner and his son. The owner stands behind the bar, and the son opposite, eyes fixated on the mirror behind the owner. The air has an alcoholic residue smell, like what happens to a quality drink after it goes through a drunkard's guts and violently comes back up.

"You know..." the owner burps. "I couldn't be honest back when you told me you're leaving. But now that I'm..." another burp. " like this... I can tell you straight! I disapprove of you leaving your home. You! Out of all the cities in this world, you chose to go down there!"

Crack!!!

A small brandy glass, the one in which you barely fit two thumbs, smashes into the mirror behind the owner.

As he flings the glass, the son's mind runs wild, sucking anger and hate in and throwing peace and love out. A moment later, he turns and storms out. 

He walks the main street, turns left, and turns another left, thinking it’s right. His vision is blurry. Somehow, he ends at the beginning. 

Just as he feels he understands where he is, the distorted images mix. The old of false approval and the new of honest rejection that was squeezed out of the owner by alcohol. 

He cries. After a long time, the son cries.

But tomorrow he is leaving his home and going down there. The thought gives him hope. He cleans his runny nose and goes to say goodbye to everyone who is sad but approves of his departure. 

As lunchtime finishes in the village houses, the bar fills up with locals. Chatter becomes louder, and everyone gifts a hearty hello to the owner as they enter. 

“Hello! Come in. The usual?” The owner asks a guest, who is also a friend. 

“There’s nothing else but the usual!” The guest laughs and looks at the crack in the mirror behind. “Say, what’s that? If I had to guess, a drunk guest or your old mom had a go. She’s strong, considering her age! She can still put you in your place, ey big boy?” The entire bar bursts into laughter. 

“It would sooner be your wife than my mother, you bastard.” The owner accepts the tease and runs with it. “But no, not my mother or your wife.” The owner sighs and starts taking glasses out of the dishwasher. “Gerald came all tumbling today. I’m guessing he wanted to clean the morning snow but ended up drinking last night’s whiskey leftovers instead. So he came in about an hour ago, tripped on his way in, and ordered a drink. One drink, two drinks, three drinks! He drank them quicker than I could pour. Then, when I finally told him no more, he got angry, and this happened.” The owner points his thumb across his shoulder. “So I had to run him out. And it goes without saying, I haven’t had the time to fix the mirror before you fine people arrived.”

Another group laugh echoes the walls.

“Old Gerald.” The guest replies. “Not the first or the last time, right? I just hope you still have enough glasses for the rest of us.”

“Of course I do! The moment one breaks, another arrives.”

“Say, I remembered your oldest son talking a month ago about leaving. And down there, no less. Is he still here… or has he left?” The guest asks eagerly.

The owner twitches. He can almost feel the glare of the rounded mirror crack on the back of his head. “Yeah… I don’t know what to do with him. But he’ll come around. I told him that he couldn’t leave the house just like that. Family first.”

“Well, we all need to leave at one point. My son is doing fine up there, to the north.”

The owner nodes his head. “Yes, of course. Up there is the world, opportunities. But down there is shit! And those people!”

Another guest joins the conversation. “Yeah. I remember when I was there 20 years ago. It's the worst place ever. No sensible man ever goes there.”

The owner grabs a bottle. “Yes. You are completely right. No man! Here’s a drink for everyone. On the house!”

The next day. A bus driving down a highway.

The son hoped the sleep would erase the emotions. But hate turned into sadness and anger into disappointment. 

The phone rings. "I talked to your father. He isn't happy. Why don't you understand how he feels? You should come back."

Cra...

Another burst. This time, it shuts down thanks to a cut connection.

But in a small spark, thousand wildfires. How he feels?! How do I feel?! Should I forgo everything for the coward's incompetence and selfishness?

Two hours later, the son arrives down there. The bus stops. The door opens. The woman waits. Love. Finally.

Mid spring. Past lunchtime. Everyone is in the bar. 

The owner stands behind the bar, and the son sits opposite, surrounded by tipsy locals—the crack in the mirror is no longer there.

Local #1: "So, how is the place? It's been 20 years since I was there the last time. Back in the army with your dad. Oh, the food... the women. We had a great time! Right?" The owner smiles and nods.

The son: "It's fine, fine. I don't know how the food tasted back then, but I would argue it's still as good."

Local #2: "Did the people there accept you? Any trouble?"

The son: "No trouble. Everyone I've met so far is great. And you know, I have my wife to protect me." 

Local #3: "Hahaha, are you hearing this? She must be quite something if she's protecting your son. Hopefully, she doesn’t end up being like your old mother."

Everyone is laughing. The customers and the son.

The owner looks at the locals. His friends. His customers. Everyone seems happy. Everyone seems complacent. Everything will be fine.

He looks at his son. He smiles. An empty brandy glass rests behind the bar with drops of leftover brandy at the bottom.

He looks at his bar. Everything will be fine.