Page 29 of Dreaming of Dawson

“You worked that out already?” Dawson said as I replaced the credit card machine under the counter, and I looked up at him.

“Worked what out?”

“Angela and Levi’s order. They didn’t need to ask you for what they wanted. You already knew.”

I nodded my head, smiling. “I’ve served them a few times now, and they always have the same things.”

“Yeah… I guess people don’t change,” he said, shaking his head, and I wondered if we were talking about drinks anymore. I didn’t inquire. It didn’t feel right to start a conversation like that when the bar was getting busy. I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. It was the first time he’d touched me and the feeling of his hand on my skin was enough to make me gasp, which was enough to make him withdraw his hand and step back. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s okay. Did you wanna say something?”

He thought for a second. “Yeah. It was just that, if you ever work a lunchtime shift, Levi drinks coffee then, not beer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He likes to keep a clear head during the day.”

I nodded, wondering when Dawson last had a clear head, and if he could remember what that felt like. I doubted it, but again, it wasn’t something I could talk to him about in the middle of the bar, surrounded by customers.

To be honest, it’s not something I’ve been able to talk to him about at all.

We never get the chance.

I spend the first hour or so of every shift entirely by myself, while he goes upstairs to his apartment. I don’t mind being alone. It’s always really quiet then, and I use that time to get everything ready for the evening. I don’t know what Dawson does, but he always comes down at five-thirty on the dot, and sends me off for a quick break before the evening rush. Karl leaves me something to eat, which might be a salad or a sandwich, and I sit in the break room and read while eating. It seems odd that I’ve never met Karl, or Ned, who works with him, but I like his food, and I’ve started leaving him notes in the kitchen, thanking him.

I haven’t met Maggie or Vanessa, either. Our paths haven’t crossed to date, but I’m sure they will one day. They’re bound to, because I like my job, and I’ve got no intention of giving it up.

That said, I think I’d like it better if Dawson would force himself to smile once in a while. It won’t happen, of course. He remains as morose as ever, and nothing I do or say seems to change that. He’s firmly entrenched in the past, but I keep trying to dig him out… to help him see there’s a brighter future out there, if he’d just look up and see it for himself.

So far, my words are falling on deaf ears, and I’ll admit, it can sometimes be hard to work with him. Not because I don’t still want to help, but because I like him… a lot. Despite his problems and despite my best intentions, I really do like him.

And it hurts that he doesn’t even want to be happy.

That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on him, though. Not in any sense.

There’s gonna be another reason to celebrate tomorrow. I won’t just be cheering because it’s the end of the worst month of the year, but because Aunt Bernie’s car will finally be fixed. It’s been tough living without it, for her more than me, and I know she’ll be happy to have it back. It was only supposed to take a couple of days, but there was a delay getting the parts Levi needed. He was really apologetic, but what could she say? He’d been kind to her, and it wasn’t his fault. Vivienne was good enough to take Aunty to the grocery store, and her friends came to visit her, rather than the other way around. It wasn’t as isolating as she’d feared it might be, but I know she’s missed the freedom of being able to do whatever she wants, and she was so relieved when Levi called this morning and told her the parts had arrived over the weekend and she could have the car back tomorrow… without fail.

We’ve arranged that I’ll pick it up for her, to save her worrying about how to get into town, although Levi saidhe needed me to get there before two because he’s got an appointment and he’s closing the repair shop.

“Do you want me to drive it back here straight away?” I asked her when she told me about the plan.

“No. You can keep hold of it and use it to drive home when you’ve finished at the bar.”

“That’ll mean I’ll get to work really early,” I said, and she smiled.

“I doubt Dawson will complain.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but to be honest, it’ll be such a relief to have the car back, it feels like a minor inconvenience that I’ll have to work an extra couple of hours. It might be the end of the month I always consider to be the most glacial, but it’s still absolutely freezing.

My walk today is the coldest yet, but I’m wrapped up well, and I get to work on time, opening the door to find Dawson straightening the bottles behind the bar. There’s no need for him to do that, and I wonder if he’s just been topping up his glass, which is full to the brim. I guess the contents are mostly – if not entirely – vodka, but I don’t say anything, and wander over to the back of the bar, going into the break room to deposit my coat and purse in my locker, so I don’t embarrass Dawson by my presence.

I take a moment, but not too long, and then come back out again, to find he’s still behind the bar, but is looking at something on his phone, although he clearly hears me approaching and puts it away the moment I join him.

“It seems much colder today,” he says and I nod my head, wishing he’d talk about something more important than the weather, for once… like why he drinks so much, or why he’s so determined to be miserable. I glance over and notice his glass is still just as full as when I left. It makes me wonder whether he’sgulped down half of it and topped it up again in my absence, or whether he’s pacing himself… because he needs to.

“Yes, it is.”

I can’t think what else to say. Asking him outright why he’s punishing himself like this is beyond me, and we stand awkwardly for a moment or two before he nods his head for some reason and says, “I’ll go upstairs.”

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