A Home To You and Me

There was a certain delight to be found within the walls of a disreputable bar. The peanut-ridden floor, the dirty cigarette smell, the homeless regulars sleeping in the corners, all of Gregory’s bar’s charms held an unmistakable allure that pulled in the group of friends who visited the establishment regularly. Blonde Anna Louise, red-eyed Jeremy, brunette Lee, and the freckled Oliver, though just barely above the legal drinking age, had found themselves in the same cushioned booth on the same Saturday night for the past few years–yes, illegally–, coming together to share their hectic years with their childhood friends. The same ones who used to play with each other in their youth, throw a football under the spring sun or share a popsicle in the summer heat, now commit to meeting weekly–or at least they try to–despite the chaos and availability demanded by their respective jobs. Anna Louise, working as a lawyer in her father’s firm, chugs down a beer, her blonde hair loosely wound back in a bun, hairs flying about after a hard day at work.

“Woah there, Annie,” said Lee, pulling the beer away from the red-cheeked Anna Louise, “don’t you have to be up at 8 ‘morrow? Maybe you should chill on the drinkin’.” 

Anna Louise, her tie loosened on her dark grey business suit, rolled her eyes. “Since when did you become my mother, Lee?” She asked, her southern accent as strong as it was 20 years ago. 

“Oh c’mon,” Jeremy spoke up, defending Lee, “he’s right, Mr. Huntenson won’t be much happy if you come to work with a hangover t’morrow, Anna Louise.” Jeremy said, taking the beer from Lee’s hand and pressing it to his lips, chugging down a few sips himself, ever the hypocrite, of course, as he also worked with Anna Louise and had to be up early the next day. 

“Oh please,” she scoffed, “Daddy has plenty of interns he can work to death. So what if I show up a bit cranky tomorrow?” She snatched the drink away from Jeremy’s lips.

Oliver laughed. “Let her be, Jer. If she wants to get reamed out by her father ‘morrow morning, then that’s her pro’lem.” 

The group of friends continued to ridicule the young Anna Louise, the night’s hours flying by as they recounted their recent adventures.

Jeremy told the story of how he met his wife–a whiteboard and Jeremy’s homeless friend being the story’s main characters–as he drank the night away, alternating between stealing Anna Louise’s bottle–scratching off the label every time he did so– and taking sips from his own reprehensible beer. Oliver related the tale of his newest job, his fifth one in 3 weeks, as an accountant at his mother’s friend’s place of work. Again, his friends ridiculed him for his inability to maintain a job for more than two days, and, again, Oliver shot back the same excuse he’d used every Saturday when the topic came up: “It’s not my fault they can’t accommodate my set of skills. There’s plenty of jobs out there, I’ll find the right one eventually!” After much laughter, Lee recounted his most recent trip to Europe, finally being able to cross off Germany on his map–”European Adventures With Lee.” Once the stories were finished and the bar’s regulars had left, the chairs stacked upside down on the surrounding tables and the floors sweeped and mopped, the group of friends decided to call it a night, laughing as they each took their leaves.

“Well,” Jeremy started, lifting himself from his chair, “I should get going. Jenny’ll rip me a new one if I don’t make it home ’fore 11.” 

“Aw!” Anna Louise pouted, drunk out of her mind as she gripped the bottom of Jeremy’s business shirt, suit jacket off and on the floor at this point in her drunken stupor. “Don’t gooooo, Jerrrrrr.” She slurred, her voice taught with nonsense. 

“C’mon, Annie, let him go.” Said Lee from the opposite chair. “He’s got a gal at home now, he ain’t got time for us country bumpkins no more!” He spat, a humorous tone outlining his venomous words, the three drunkards all bursting out in a laughing fit. 

Oliver joined in. “Haha, where’d this Jenny store your cojones, my friend? In her lil’ pink purse?” The laughter doubled, Jeremy’s pout only enhancing the joke of his missing balls. 

“Just wait ‘til y’all all married too.” He set his empty bottle down. “You’ll be just as pathetic as me. I’ll see y’all next time.” He joked, waving as he left the dirty bar.

One by one, the group of friends left the bar, parents, spouses, or taxis coming along to pick them up and drive them off. Though drunk as a skunk himself, Lee agreed to take Anna Louise home. Lee picked up a taxi in the busy New York City street, taking himself and the intoxicated blonde to her home–her father’s house–at 1 in the morning. After a very discomforting welcome by her father, in which he threatened several of his body parts for bringing his daughter home drunk, half-naked, and late, Lee made his way home as well.

As such, this meeting concluded the friend’s annual meet-up. In each of their minds–though inebriated to the maximum, all of them hardly remembering the day before upon awakening–and bodies, the friends knew this would be the last time they would see each other in such a setting for the foreseeable future. Lee would go off to another country on his parent’s fortune, enjoying life surrounded by miraculous sights and delicious food. Oliver would go through innumerable jobs, finally settling down after meeting a kind young woman during one of his places of employment–a strip club–and working his way up to their general management. Anna Louise continued to work at her father’s law firm, eventually becoming a senior partner and funding her lavish life, and a family of three.

The years passed them by as they worked and their lives progressed.

None of them expected they wouldn’t reunite until 7 years later. 

None of them expected they would reunite at a funeral. 

None of them expected it would be Jeremy’s.

——————————————————————————————————————————

December 16th, 2019

Greenwich Funeral Home: 6:48 p.m.

A silent sob echoes. Three desolated friends stand over an open casket, the 4 singular grey strands on the corpse’s clean-cut brown hair that would’ve once been the subject of their ridicule now serve as a reminder of his never expanding age. 4 strands for 4 decades lived. Family members stand behind them, standing a respectful 6 feet away as the group mourns their friend, silently and in a way that no longer resembles their active personalities. Oliver’s jokes are nowhere to be found, Lee’s careful advice falls on deaf ears, and Anna Louise’s restless rebellions are replaced by the sorrowing cries of the blonde lawyer. 

Their regrets sound out as they reminisce. 

“We,” Lee said, “we shoulda made the time.” 

Oliver and Anna Louise both turned in confusion. 

“He was always the one plannin’ the reunions. Even when Jenny didn’t let ‘im, he always loved meetin’ up with us. It’s been seven years.” He covered his face in anguish. “We shoulda made the time…” His voice broke off as he finished his words, his muffled sobs replacing his voice. 

“Jer worked so hard…” Anna Louise’s broken voice managed to say. “He woulda made senior partner in no time.” The emotions tumbling within her suddenly too much, Anna Louise stormed away, making her way to the reception early as Oliver and Lee stood over him, sobs filling the silent room. Anna Louise’s tumultuous reaction was not unexpected to either of them, her innate reaction to anything even remotely sad or angsty having been the immediate urge to run away since high school. So rudimentary, the two friends were more surprised she’d stuck around this long. 

“We should get going.” Oliver’s trembling voice said through the palm that covered his mouth. “He wouldn’t’a liked us hangin’ ‘round here cryin’. We needa be strong for him, Lee.” 

Oliver placed a supportive palm on his shoulder, urging him away from Jeremy’s cold body. Lee, though submerged in an ocean of his own regret and self-hatred, nodded. 

Looking back one final time before he was buried, Lee and Oliver both turned around, taking in his body and cold expression for the last time. 

As Lee’s eyes made their way over the body again, the solid reality of his death hit him for the first time since he saw the body. Lee had been the one who always denied Jeremy’s invitations, even since before the last time they met up, hardly ever finding the time to meet up and deal with the ridiculousness that came with his old friends’ company. Though he found them thoroughly annoying at times, it would’ve been a lie to say he didn’t enjoy their company. He finally accepted their invitation out to Gregory’s that night 7 years ago, not knowing it’d be the last time he’d see Jeremy’s face in person. Instead, 7 years had passed. Lee went off and enjoyed his life around the world, Anna Louise nabbed a big corporate job and a nice family in Brooklyn, Oliver had found the love of his life in a strip club and beat the job curse that had plagued his life, and Jeremy was dead. Dead. Never again would Jeremy defend his honor against the other’s snide comments. Never again would Lee enjoy his company at Gregory’s. Obviously, hatefully dead, Jeremy was gone, and Lee didn’t know if he could live with the guilt. Not only the guilt of never coming out to hang out with him and the others, but because that guilt had driven him to call Jeremy out from his home for a small private meetup late at night. He was leaving for the Philippines the next morning, and he decided seeing his ugly mug one last time before his flight was only fair, seeing as he’d denied so many of Jeremy’s invitations in years past. That night, Jeremy had driven to that very bar, and on the way a drunk driver had crashed into him. His death was swift and quick, mercifully painless. Lee had been the first one to know of their group, Jenny and the kids being the first overall. The first to see his cold, dead, mangled body…

Lee shook his head. Jeremy was dead, and it was Lee’s fault. There was no changing the truth, no matter how much he wished he could.

The two left the funeral parlor, and they made their way to their favorite bar. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Gregory’s Barroom: 7:02 p.m.

Anna Louise drowned herself in the terrible beer, wanting to suffocate her sorrows. She wanted to grab them by the throat and throw them down into hell, wanted to destroy this terrible feeling within her. 

As she flopped into their regular booth, the two other friends filed in a bit later, both looking as desolate as before. 

Equally anguished, the friends sat in uncomfortable, tense silence.

Oliver spoke first. “Jeremy…-”

“Jeremy’s dead, Oliver.” Anna Louise’s hard voice interrupted. “He’s not comin’ back.” 

None of them replied, Silence being the night’s liveliest participant. Parading itself around the bar and plaguing every single guest, Silence had dominated the night, followed by Tears and Anguish. The night’s Hours seemed to enjoy the guests’ company, refusing to flow by quickly and plopping itself down next to the desolated guests. Anna Louise’s family sat in a booth behind her, not daring to speak a word to her in her despair. Only her husband, Adam–a nice accountant–dared to sit next to her, caressing her shoulder in a pitiful attempt at comfort. 

Oliver sat in a puddle of sadness as well. Gracey, the funny stripper he’d married–birds of a feather really do flock together–,also had an arm wrapped around him, hugging and showing Oliver support in his grief. His expression was unnaturally empty, numb and devoid of any humor. So uncanny it was, for Oliver to be without his armada of jokes and puns, but on a night like this it was only natural.

Only Lee, wishing to be rid of this guilty feeling, was tired of sitting and mopping. He, reminded of his many failures in love surrounded by his friends’ families, in success with the cheap beer that flowed down his throat, and in friendship at his close friend’s funeral, decided not to be weighed down by these failures tonight. No, not tonight. Tonight he’d go numb, he’d party and rid himself of these terrible feelings. 

Declaring loudly, he shouted: “No!” He rose, stepping onto the table as he stuck the bottle onto his lips and let the liquid trickle down like water. “Tonight, we,” his balance wavering as he stepped onto the table and its wobbly legs, “we are drinkin’ our asses off!” Finishing his beer, he reached down to grab Oliver’s. “I don’t wanna see nobody sittin’ down for the rest’a the night! Ya hear me?!” He screamed at the bar’s attendants. Anna Louise and Oliver–and the rest of the bar–sat shocked for a second, shocked frozen at the sight of their usually level-headed friend acting so bizarrely. 

“Well… I certainly…” Anna Louise briefly glanced over at Adam before turning back to stare dubiously at Lee. “I wasn’t expectin’ that.” She let out a hesitant laugh, a small breathy try at a giggle in a silent bar. She thought on his peculiar actions this night, his curious declarations and drunken movements. Lee didn’t act like this, not like a drunkard too intoxicated to think straight. He was the calm one, she thought, the designated driver who kept everyone else from getting on a faulty table and shouting. Though on a night like this one, on a grief-ridden and grim night she thought wouldn’t come for another 30 years, Anna Louise couldn’t criticize his odd behaviors. No, she could only agree and impulsively decide right along with him to let loose and party like never before. Jeremy would’ve wanted his friends to get shit-faced drunk.

“But I couldn’t agree more!” She announced, letting out a ‘woo!’ as she downed whatever was left in her beer. Oliver, beginning to be infected by his friends’ way of thinking, joined in as well, ordering a round for every depressed body in the bar. The parasite of drinking their grief away slowly made its way around to every person, one table at a time giving in to the group’s eccentric coping method. One by one, the bar eventually became an establishment lacking in a single sober body, every funeral guest holding a beer or scotch in hand as they danced around crazily to hundreds of genres of music. Lee led the charge, screaming out a “who’s up for another round!?” after every few songs. The guests, drunk and happy in their woozy states of mind, all sang along to a Carrie Underwood song–“Last Name–”, also widely known as Jeremy’s favorite song, as Lee lowered the volume, raising his bottle to the sky and shouting out: “For Jeremy!” 

The bar all simultaneously raised their respective glasses. “For Jeremy!” They shouted back. 

As they returned to their partying, every glass in the bar dropped back down, returning to their owner’s lips or their spots on their wooden tables. All but one. 

Far in the back of the grimy walls of the bar, a wooden stool sat alone, unperturbed by any living being. Upon it sat a ghost, one with four strands of grey hair–one for each decade lived–, and red eyes, who sang along to the song, each lyric recited in tune and perfectly, easily flowing through his lips as if they’d done it a hundred times. He kept his dirty beer in the air, the blonde Anna Louise shouting about her missing beer in the distance as he closed his eyes and spoke to no one: “For Annie, Oliver,” he opened his eyes, shifting his gaze onto the brunette on the table dancing crazily, “and Lee. Thank you.” 

And as Anna Louise turned around, she spotted the empty wooden stool, her brown beer sitting untroubled and divine on its long legs. She moved towards it, picking it up and noticing the scratched label, the brand’s name long gone in all the abuse. Jeremy’s work. 

She smiled. 

Without looking back, Anna Louise returned to the party, Jeremy watching fondly as he exited the bar, leaving with the comfortable knowledge that his friends would be just fine.