Page 4 of My Fight

The night was finally coming to an end, and I was watching customers slowly exit out and into the streets. There were a few people left finishing up their drinks, but Jeff and I begin cleaning up. Jeff was grabbing empty cups, and I was wiping down the liquor bottle that were lining the shelves.

Once the last group made their way outside, I exhaled quickly.

“This night sucked!” I climbed from behind the bar and dropped onto one of the barstools with my feet screaming, “Thank you.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Tonight wasn’t that bad.”

“I’m so tired. I thought tonight would never end, and my poor little feet are killing me,” I said.

“You better keep those fucking feet in those boots. It already smells like shit in here. Now get your ass up and help me. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get our asses out of here and sleep,” Jeff stated with a stupid grin popping that cute dimple on his cheek.

I knew he was right, but that didn’t stop me from being childish and sticking my tongue out at him as I stepped up off the stool, silently cursing these stupid boots. I grabbed the spray bottle and another rag, then started cleaning the bar.

Jeff continued to grab more trash. We move along like we did every night. The music was done, and it was quiet except for my humming.

“That’s nice. Something new?” Jeff asked.

“What?” I was so busy in my own head I didn’t hear what Jeff said.

“What you’re humming. Is that something new you are working on?” Jeff asked.

“No, nothing new. Just something I wrote a long time ago. Actually, I haven’t written anything in a while. Haven’t been very motivated lately,” I replied.

“I wonder why. Kenna, could it be the shitty polo you have? That one should be donated to goodwill.” Jeff chuckled.

“Ugh, Jeff, stop. Let’s just finish so we can get out of here,” I said with complete exhaustion in my voice.

“Sure,” he stated flatly.

Once the cleaning was done at least done enough for the cleaning crew to come in and finish up in the morning. I put both hands on the bar and let out a deep cleansing breath. I can feel Jeff come up behind me and reaches his arms around my waist to hug me and slaps a kiss on my cheek.

Jeff spoke in a whisper, “I’m sorry for what I said. I love you. You know that. I just worry about you and want you to be okay.”

I smiled even though my back was to him, and he couldn’t see it. I put my hands on his arms that were wrapped around me and told him, “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

He slapped another kiss to my cheek and then spun me around with one hand while grabbing my tip jar with his other. “Let’s see what we made tonight.”

I dragged my burning feet to the same barstool I was sitting on not long ago. I emptied the jar and started counting my tips. Tonight was a pretty good night considering it was a Thursday. I split my tips into two piles.

When Jeff came around, I smiled at him and handed him one of my tip piles. That was a little less than half of what I made tonight.

Jeff being Jeff, spoke with a smile that said,‘I will take care of it.’

I wasn’t worried. I trusted Jeff. I knew he would take care of the tip money I handed him. Jeff was my best friend here. To be honest, he was one of my only friends here. When I moved to Massachusetts, I didn’t know anyone, and because I kept to myself a lot. I didn’t make many friends. Jeff was a talented writer. I think that was why we hit it off and became so close.

Not only was he a talented writer, but he also had a talent for reading people. He knew exactly how I was feeling without me saying a word. I knew he was worried about me. I knew he wanted to help me. I also knew I could not get him any more involved than he was already. He was already doing too much with me, giving him some of my tip money every night. There was no way I would drag him into any more then he was already.

“Let’s get out of this shithole,” Jeff stated.

He grabbed my arm and dragged me off the stool, then to the back room located down the hall that had the bathrooms and into a room filled with kegs and booze. I took my coat and bag from one of the hooks that hung on the back of the door.

It was late September in New England, which meant the afternoons were warm, but once the sun went down, it got chilly.

I put on my light coat. I loved this coat, another thing I got on sale last season. It was a cute black peacoat that landed at my hips. It wasn’t heavy. It was made out of nylon which blocked out the wind. I buttoned it up and swung my cross-body bag over my shoulder. It took me only a week after moving here to get a crossbody bag. I saw two women’s purses taken right out of their hands. I knew no asshole was getting my bag! I went out and got my own crossbody purse that week.

Jeff and I each grabbed a couple of bags of trash that were at the back door and brought them to the dumpster located outside the backdoor in the alleyway. He locked up, and we walked to the street. Jeff lived just two blocks from the alley, my car was always parked around the corner, but we would take a right out of the alley. Every night Jeff would turn right and walk me to my car, and every night, we would have the same conversation.

“I can make it around the corner to where my car is parked. I can take care of myself, you know,” I said sternly.

---