And he shall be Levon

Levon Morgan wouldn’t necessarily qualify as a misanthrope - to use the parlance of beer, he would be a misanthrope light. Human interaction was not something that he enjoyed and he tried to avoid it as much as possible, but he wasn’t a live-in-a-cabin-in-the-woods-and-write-a-manifesto kind of guy, though. Just someone who didn’t feel it was necessary to interact with people frequently. It was all the more surprising, then, when he pulled into the parking lot of Ye Olde Squire - a bar that was equally known for its breakfast service and scantily clad waitresses - with an ironclad plan to ask one of the waitresses on a date. 

*

It had been over a year that Levon had been coming to the Squire every Friday afternoon. Having moved to Hamilton for an accounting job, he knew that would need to do something to get himself out of the house on the weekend. He had no friends and no desire to make new ones - even the ones from high school had moved away and Levon simply did not care enough to keep in touch outside of the odd birthday message or Christmas card. The obvious answer had been a bar, somewhere that he could bring the crossword puzzle from the paper and have a quiet pint. 

Until he met Bella. He had been there a few times already and he looked up from his table and spotted her as she made her way towards him - short blonde hair, angular cheekbones and a sleek, muscular frame outlined by the skimpy outfit that the waitresses all wore. Talking to women was not something he was particularly good at. Luckily, the patron/ waitress dynamic was one that has safety built into it.  

‘Hiya, how’re you doing?’ 

‘Fine, thanks. And how are you today?’

‘Oh, I’m great! Beautiful day outside. Hey, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?’ 

‘Sure have. I come pretty much every week.’ (A lie from Levon - he has been there every week without fail but he doesn’t want to seem too desperate.) ‘Just like a chance to get out and do the old crossword.’ (A small, nervous laugh as he sips his beer.) 

‘Oh, of course! I try to do them on the weekend but I usually end up giving up and Googling the answers.’ (She laughs and it swells in his chest.) ‘Well, glad to have you back. What’s your name anyway? Guess I don’t have to introduce myself.’ (She smiles and looks at her nametag and so does he but then he looks away because her name tag is near her… Well, y’know…) 

‘It’s Levon. Like the-’ 

‘Like the song! By Elton John. Ugh, it’s one of my favourites!’ (He doesn’t correct her and he doesn’t mind because just then she sings a few notes and they are actually quite good.)

‘Here, let me bring you some nuts. On the house.’ (She walks away and he sees her look back and smile, thinking about Levon but also Levon and he feels something light in his chest like butterflies and that night when he tries to sleep all he can see is her face and all he can wonder is what her hair would smell like and behind that warmth there is something leaden and solid and unflinching - it is the certainty that she would never be interested in a nobody like him and that it is just her job to be kind and those thoughts are the voice of his father and the voice has an edge, just like he did in real life and he falls asleep feeling the warmth of the butterflies turn cold.)

*

So, back to that day and Levon’s ironclad resolution to finally do something. After nearly a year or so small talk and chitchat, he realised that he had no other choice but to do something. He got out of his car and walked into the Squire. He would have saved himself the experience of everything that was about to happen if he had just seen the sign outside the bar, but his focus was too intense for him to have eyes for anything except what was in front of him. He went into the building and the waiting area and saw her behind the bar pulling a pint and he felt his heart sink. He was led to a seat on the bar side and he perked up a little bit knowing that she might see him and stop by to say hi at least, but was still dismayed knowing that his plan (it involved a receipt and a clever message with his phone number that he had been workshopping in his mind for months) would not work. 

After a few minutes, a waiter named Greg strolled over; Levon knew Greg well enough from hearing him wait tables and how he would repeat his spiel each time. 

‘Hey, you’re that guy… one of Bella’s regulars, right?’ 

The butterflies came and the thought of Bella speaking to this man about him both frightened and exhilarated him.  

‘Yea, I - I guess so.’ 

‘Yea, cool. Well, I’m sure you saw the sign about Speed Dating. Did you want to sign up?’ 

There were perhaps only a handful of sentences in the English language that would have caused Levon more anxiety in that moment - disarm this bomb, or make small talk in an elevator for a full minute, for example. Speed Dating, he thought. A scourge on humanity. What foul sins must have we committed for us to have to bear the indignity of such activities? He politely declined the offer to participate from Greg, ordered his beer and went on with the crossword. He continued looking out of the corner of his eye to see what Bella was doing, but as the afternoon progressed and the Speed Dating evening started, the bar got busier and busier until all hope really did seem lost. There was one moment when it seemed like she had looked over at him and he had to stop his arm from involuntarily rising into a goofy wave - even he knew how dumb that would look. 

*

Levon decided to stay even once the event had properly started. There was no part of him that wanted to be put through a series of stressful encounters with women he would never have a chance of seeing again, but he did enjoy the chance to people-watch. And he knew that once everything had ended, Bella might come by when things weren’t as busy. The only downside was that he had to keep buying beers, so he was on his second pint and feeling a little tipsy once the first round of dating had begun. 

As the event started, the chatter in the bar rose to a minor cacophony and it seemed that the uneasiness from these romantic martyrs had floated into an essence that flowed around the room and mixed in with notes of perspiration and wine breath. He was nearly done with his second pint and was actually salvaging what was left of a wrecked evening when the woman sat beside him. She was out of breath and looked behind her as she took the seat beside him - she had dark eyes and long, dark hair that stood in contrast to the white cardigan that she wore. 

‘Really sorry to just barge in like this - do you have someone waiting?’

‘Oh, I’m not actually - I’m not…’ (The bewildered fear of an insect living underneath a rock that has been unearthed to meet the sun.) 

‘Oh, shit. You aren’t even on the Speed Dating thing, are you?’ (Cheeks that flush crimson now and eyes that still look behind her.) 

‘No, I’m not.’ 

‘Shit. I’m so sorry. It’s just that - well, the guy I was just talking to? Don’t look now but he’s like two tables over behind me on my right. I dunno, I just got a weird vibe from him. He kept asking me like, really personal questions that were just a bit off for speed dating? Like usually it’s about hobbies and work. Normal shit. But this guy was asking me about my favourite sex positions and stuff. I’m pretty sure he winked at me.’ (A swift movement and a half full drink is now gone and she wipes a hand across her mouth and looks at him.)  ‘So, what’s your name? I don’t want to bother you, it's just that if we are both sitting here and not talking he might come over and he just gives me the creeps.’ (Apologetic eyes that Levon notices now are actually quite stunning in their depth.) 

‘My name is Levon. Like the-’ 

‘The drummer?’ (She says it at the same time as him and for a flash his walls seem like they may come down, the veneer that is in place telling him that this is stupid and why would he bother and how could he ever tell anybody that he met her at a Speed Dating event and what would his mother think? All of that falters but it only lasts for a fleeting moment. He smiles.)

‘Yea. Like the drummer. My parents were kinda hippies. Followed them around in the 70s. Guess they were like Bandheads or something.’ (She laughs at this and he feels something again - was this what it felt like to make somebody laugh?) ‘What’s your name?’ 

‘Rita. Like the-’ 

‘Like the Beatles song?’ 

‘That’s right!’ (She smiles again and hums the tune to Lovely Rita.) ‘People usually say Rita Hayworth and I’m like, uh, try again. My parents aren’t that old. Wasn’t she around in the 40s or something?’

‘Something like that.’ (Fear comes bubbling up again. Flashes of insignificance - you set yourself up for something that you will never be able to follow. You’ll fall flat on your face now, just watch. Just wait.) 

Instead of this, what Levon felt was an undeniable urge to use the bathroom - those pints had really flowed through him. 

‘Look, I’m really sorry but I need to use the bathroom. But you can, uh, stay here if you want? Or I know that if guys are being creepy, you can go to the bar and ask for some girl? It’s like a code or something?’ 

(Kind eyes that swim now and are electric and they are pulling him.) ‘No worries! I just plunked myself down and you aren’t even here for a date! You’re being a good sport. It should be fine now, I bet he’s lost interest.’ 

Levon stood up and smiled at her, not sure of how to carry on. Instead of doing something embarrassing, he decided to simply walk to the bathroom. At the urinal, his thoughts were going at lightspeed: What if she is still there? What will he talk about? What if she isn’t? Should he try to find her? Was that a spark? He’d never felt a spark before. What about Bella? Would she be jealous? (Even Levon scoffed at that last one.) He washed and dried his hands and made his way back out. 

He scanned his eyes back to the table where Rita was sitting - just out of curiosity, not that he wanted to go back - and saw him sitting there. It was the guy from before and he looked like every stereotypical douchebag that had ever been a jerk to Levon in highschool. He had a square jaw and dark eyebrows that were knitted together above dark, intense eyes. Rita was laughing but it wasn’t the same kind of laugh as when she was with him - it was a guarded laugh that seemed to be cut short. He looked at him talking, saw his gestures that were animated and the way his hand squeezed her arm and how she seemed to shudder a bit under the pressure of his grip. 

The option to leave was there; he knew he could just go to the bar and pay up and he would likely even get a chance to see Bella on his way out. They would exchange a few jokes, laugh about the Speed Daters and he would tell her that he would see her next week. And he would go home and dream about her face, ethereal in the darkness of his mind as he fell asleep and dreamt about something that may never happen. Or. Or he could go over there and interrupt. Cause a disturbance. Scare the guy off. 

He approached the table and saw Rita’s eyes widen. Levon spoke before his brain could reel in the reckless words:

‘Hey, mind if I cut in? We were having a chat and I had to use the bathroom.’ 

The guy looked up now and it gave him the look that guys like this had been giving him for years - it was a look that said oh, it’s just that guy. It was a look of relief and immediate safety. 

‘Yea, just give us a minute, pal. It’s speed dating, right? Everyone gets a chance?’ He looked back to Rita with a smile that she returned nervously. 

Whatever it was that compelled Levon to action now was completely foreign, but it was something firm inside of him: ‘Well, I’m not really here for that Speed Dating. Rita and I are old friends who just happened to run into each other. We’re catching up, so if you don’t mind…’ 

The guy with the jaw looked at Rita and looked back to Levon: ‘This guy? Your friends with this guy?’ He scoffed and stood up. ‘Whatever. She’s all yours, bud. Not my type anyway.’ 

Levon’s next words were the important ones. ‘Why don’t you watch your mouth. Pal.’ 

‘What’d you say to me?’ (Turning now and facing him and oh god, he is taller and stronger than I thought but I can’t back down now, can I?) 

‘I said what I said. You should speak more respectfully to women.’ (Rita’s eyes now are wider and they are pleading but also impressed.) 

The guy with the jaw laughed at Levon - it was a spiteful laugh. ‘Guys like you,’ (a finger to his chest) ‘don’t say that kind of shit to guys like me. It’s the pecking order, bro. I’m an alpha. You’re a beta. Didn’t you know? So if you want to say anything else, we’d better step outside.’ 

(Thoughts fire now rapidly and there is a fire inside of him and it is spreading and it feels good and it feels stupid but stupidgood goodstupid.) ‘You’re a jerk and every woman in here knows it.’ 

Even the people at the other table stopped to look at Levon when he said it. 

‘Either you meet me outside or I bring you. Your choice.’ (The eyes were darker now and there was something sinister in them like a thin slice of metal.) 

Levon followed him. On the way out, he saw Bella behind the bar and she caught his eye before saying something to one of the barbacks. 

*

A small crowd of smokers and those curious enough to brave a brisk evening were standing around on the patio. The man with the square jaw wasted no time: ‘Look, dude. I’m sure you’ve had a few too many. So just apologise and you can go on your way.’ 

Levon stared at him - his crew cut, his V-neck, his muscular shoulders and his far-too-tight skinny jeans. There, in the glibness, the arrogance, the self-assurance of this man, he saw his father. He saw his brothers. He saw every other guy in highschool who had ever looked down at him for daring to be something other than what they thought men should be. For not fitting the mold. For daring to play video games and not hockey. For daring to want to watch old movies and listen to old music instead of chasing girls. Not because he didn’t want to; because he didn’t know how not too. And because he knew he was weak? That made it even worse. Weakness was death to them. And he knew that then, in that moment, if he were to back down once more, it would never make sense to stand up for himself again. And he was sick of being walked over. 

‘I’ve had a couple of beers, yes. But I will not be apologising to you. It’s you who owes Rita an apology. It’s you who owes the other women in this bar an apology.’ 

‘And what do you know about talking to women? Looking like the 40-year-old virgin.’ (A few sniggers float out and it stings Levon a little.) 

‘You can say whatever you want. But at least I’m not an asshole who hides his insecurities in bravado.’ (A few gasps and laughs now and the square jaw is set firmly and he steps forward, delivers a solid punch to Levon’s sternum.) 

Levon, now doubled over, coughed and saw stars swimming in his vision. He stood upright and saw the barback standing beside the square jaw and he didn’t catch the dialogue but saw the aftermath: a shove, some swearing and a punch connected. The square jaw on the patio floor. He brought himself up and looked around. The barback shook his head: ‘I think it’s time for you to go, chief.’ 

A look around him and an ignominious retreat. Had he a tail, it would have been between his legs.

And just like that, it was over. The night continued, the interested spectators now satiated back to their own worlds. Rita stood beside him and put her hand on his shoulder: ‘Are you okay?’ (Pain gone now, just a feeling in his stomach that was warm and silvery.) 

‘Yea, I’m fine. I… don’t know where that came from.’

‘You did the right thing. That guy was a jerk. You want to get a drink? Not a speed dating drink but a real one?’ (Fluttering now are the butterflies but he has gone far enough now that he might as well keep going.)

‘Sure. Why not?’