Page 17 of Love & Lattes at The Mermaid Cafe
I want things back to the way they were when we hugged at the mermaid statue.
“Sailors come to the Broken Oar after a day on the sea.” Big Lou nods toward a large table in back where weathered men share pitchers of beer. “They also come in when the seas are too rough to fish. And they come here to watch sports or bring a date.”
“Because of the romantic ambiance, obviously.” I chuckle. Alone, it turns out. Not even Lena laughs.
“I met my wife here,” Big Lou says in a booming voice, having taken the pipe out of his mouth to glare at me. “I proposed to her in the corner booth. She says I’m a romantic.”
“Different strokes for different folks,” I say.
Lena sighs.
I’m suddenly ready to return to my rundown motel next to the highway. “Is there a challenge? A riddle? Both?”
“Folks share their stories here.” Big Lou taps the bar with the bowl of his empty pipe. “It’s the price of admission.”
“Like a cover charge?” That feeling from the morning, the one where I’m out of my depth, returns.
Big Lou points to a sign on the wall above his bottles of liquor.
Customers who sit at the bar must answer a bartender’s question.
“No riddle then.” I try to see that as a win.
“No riddle.” Big Lou considers me. “My father was a hard man. I did every job imaginable in this place, learning from the bottom-up how this pub should be run. But I didn’t really respect it. I took money from the register one night because I didn’t have enough to pay for a movie ticket. My old man noticed and called the cops on me. I spent a night in jail instead of eating popcorn in the theater.” The big man traces the neck of the pipe, as if admiring it for the first time. “Can you convince me that your dad was as tough as mine?”
Lena swivels in her bar stool to look at me.
I run a hand through my hair, not wanting to share any of my past with Big Lou. He’s a stranger to me. But I’d been the one to tell Lena I wanted to complete the tour. It was time to put my money where my mouth was. “My dad bought an abandoned apartment building in the Tenderloin District of San Francisco when I was thirteen. I was on the sweep crew. And by sweep, I mean, I had to go through the building room by room, floor by floor and make it safe for workers to come in and revitalize the building.” I had to pick up used needles, drug paraphernalia, and things less dangerous but just as gross.
“Cupcake…” The pipe returned to Big Lou’s mouth. “Try harder to convince me your dad was tough because that story you told isn’t proof enough and you look like someone born with a silver spoon in their mouth.”
Tough crowd.
I consider my options, consider Lena, consider my pride.
“Trouble isn’t going to pass this challenge,” Marina says as she walks past, heading toward the fisherman.
The old woman is certain I’ll fail. It makes me more determined to prove her wrong.
I stare at Big Lou. “When I was fourteen, my father left me in the mountains.” Delivered by helicopter. “He told me I had to find my own way back to civilization. A storm had just dropped three feet of snow and another storm was due twenty-four hours later. If you think I was fed with a silver spoon…”
“Tell me that’s not true.” Lena’s gaze widened. Her hand sought mine.
“It’s true.” Something I was unaccustomed to lodged in my throat.Shame.Weakness.Vulnerability.I swallowed it back. I’d learned to stand up to my father, in part because of his unorthodox parenting. “And that, Big Lou, is sink or swim at its finest.”
“Did you make it out before the next storm?” Big Lou wondered aloud.
“I did.” Hungry. Cold. Hating my father.
Will I hate him again if he tears down the boardwalk and pier businesses Lena loves so much?
I wasn’t sure.
Big Lou nodded. “All right. We should make a toast.” He pours two shots of something brackish-looking and gives one glass to me. “To fathers who teach hard lessons.”
“May we never repeat them.” Keeping hold of Lena’s hand, I clink my shot glass with his. And what I toss to the back of my throat is something that tastes like gasoline. It burns its way down, making my eyes water. “What is that?”
“Ahh.” Big Lou smacks his lips as if he enjoyed that moonshine. “Malört. Sailors drank it to prevent scurvy.”
