The Fine Wine Blues
The small glass sitting on my table was sweating profusely. Small beads of water slowly made their way down to the metal tabletop. I sat there clutching the drink and feeling its coolness before bringing it up to my forehead. I had just finished work for the day and when I finished work I liked to come down to the cafe and people watch. I also liked to have a drink. It was convenient that such a fine cafe was located within walking distance of my office. Many were as a matter of fact, but the Pocket had become my favorite place as of late. I had a lovely view of the slowly reddening sky and had come to appreciate good views as the years went by. I was thirty but felt forty-five.
I finished my drink and waved to my waitress, Chelsea, to get me one more whiskey. I sighed heavily as I looked around and attempted not to think too deeply about anything in particular. Chelsea came over and said with a pretty smile, “Expecting someone today Jack?”
“You know I am.”
“You’re a creature of habit you know that?”
“What can I say? I like what I like.”
I sat there for quite some time knowing that at some point my friend Mitchel would come around the corner and take the seat across from me. Mitchel always showed up on Fridays after he got off work and we were longtime friends. His company was always welcome.
He appeared and grinned quite stupidly once we made eye contact. He was always grinning like an idiot but it was the sort of thing that was contagious. I grinned back.
“Mitchel.” I nodded to him as I reached out my hand.
“How goes it Jack?” He shook firmly and then sat down.
“One for me to, huh Chels?” He said looking over to Chelsea while motioning to my drink.
“It goes. Yourself?”
“It’s hot. Damn hot.”
“It’s not that bad Mitch, is it? It’s only 85.”
“It’s not the damned temperature so much as it is the damned humidity.”
I agreed with him on this point. I suppose it didn’t bother me as much as I spent more time out of doors. The humidity was terrible though. It was as if there was always an added thickness to the air. As if an irremovable blanket was constantly on you. It was palpable.
“I’d rather be back in the desert then deal with the humidity here.” he continued.
“I’m not so sure, that was 120 in the shade.”
“Yeah, I don’t know though Jack. The dry heat was so much easier to deal with. How’s Susie?”
“She’s good, always busy. Those damned kids she teaches. I don’t know how she has the patience. I don’t.”
“Sure you do, you’re one of the most patient guys I know.”
I laughed a bit. “You must have me confused with someone Mitch. Patient is not a word I would use to describe myself.”
We talked for about two more hours about nothing. That was the great thing about our conversations, they really meant the world but at the same time nothing in particular was being said. What was between the lines of the conversation was important to me, what wasn’t being said. Me and Mitchel had been in the same company overseas and knew quite a bit about each other. It was comforting being in the company of someone who knew so much but asked so little. Even Susie couldn’t fully understand that.
After we had come back from overseas everyone had asked, how was it? Figuring a proper response to that was quite a challenge. It was something. It was terrible. It was mortifying. It was bloody. I don’t want to talk about it. It was sun, sand, and palm trees. It was also strange that everything else was now incredibly boring as a result. That is not to say that I preferred to be around vets all the time because I did not. Nine times out of ten our politics didn’t align, but even with those real right wing guys there was an understanding. There were no questions. There was no, ‘how was it?’, because we already knew.
Mitchel had just left. Had to get home to his Penelope. I was not required at home. Susie was going out to dinner and then drinks with the girls. I sat around for another half hour and finished my drink. I paid my bill and decided to take a walk downtown. Charleston was hot, even at night, but as the heat rose the city came alive.
I walked along the street, always paying attention to the sky. The haze allowed for an orange glow to fill it. Each star showed dimly in it. The sky itself became a lively neon sign. I was enamored with the sky, this giant thing that covered all of us. Something so beautiful and large. It made me feel so small and insignificant.
I walked on until I made out the sounds of live music. I wandered down a couple of side roads attempting to get closer to the sound. It was a blues band playing at a local hole in the wall bar that I hadn’t seen before. The bar was called the ‘Sound’. The band sounded good so I decided to pop in. I made my way to the bar and ordered myself a drink. Then I turned on my stool and looked back. Good, I thought, it’s a bunch of old black guys in the band. They were complete with sunglasses and pinstripe suits. For some reason this made me feel like it was more authentic. The leading man held his cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he crooned into the microphone.
I looked around the bar and took it in. It was old; the wooden furniture had dents on all the corners. There were lots of carvings, purposefully done and otherwise on the tabletops. A smoky haze hung in the air. It seemed like the furniture was scarred, the old scrapes having had time enough to fill in and become a part of the regular appearance. There were few clients, but those who were there were listening intently to the band.
“Do you sell cigarettes here?” I asked the bartender. He showed me the selection of brands and I picked out a pack. I packed them and opened them up. I took a book of matches off the counter, lit one, and took a drag. I quit smoking about three years ago, but certain scenarios demanded that I backslide, if only for an evening. Sitting there in that old bar, listening to that old black guy pour out his woes into his guitar, and drinking good whiskey, was one such scenario.
After about forty five minutes went by and the band was finishing up their set. I turned around and faced the bar. I preferred these hole in the wall places to the larger places. I liked to be able to get lost somewhere new, but experience something old. There was something gritty, about these sorts of places. These types of places were telling you a story whether you wanted one or not. The dirt was there and I did not want to clean it up. Despite the wear and tear there was something classy about the place. The bartender stood there in a very old style dress shirt, complete with black apron and bow tie and slowly dried off freshly washed pitchers with a white towel.
I had lost myself in a daydream when I was abruptly brought back.
“Hey kid, what are you doing here? New face, pretty white face, yessir, too pretty.”
It was the man that had been playing up on stage. He looked worn, like he had seen his share, but at the same time there was something vibrant that shown through. He was ashy and wrinkled, but his face was familiar and friendly.
“I just heard the music playing. Sounded good, I stopped in for a drink.”
“You liked it? Good good.” He reached out with his hand to shake mine and as we did he introduced himself. “I’m Nick. That is my band, the Operators”
“Nick and the Operators?” I said with a bit of a smile forming at the corners of my mouth.
“Yep, that’s the one. Pretty smooth.”
“No arguments from me. I’m Jack.”
“Just like that stuff you’re drinking.” He looked over to the bartender. “Nate! Get me some of this blues inspiration here that he’s got. I do have a taste for that stuff too.”
“Good for the soul.”
“Good for the blues. Why are you in here? You’re too pretty to be here son.” He grinned a large grin. “Look at this face. You’re too young. The blues only pulls old bastards like me an them over there.” He pointed to the noticeably older clientele sitting at the various tables.
“I just liked how it sounded.”
“Hold on one second.” His hand was on my shoulder as he talked to the bartender. “Nate we’ve got ourselves a young fella here but something aint quite right here.”
“Old ass soul. I know, I’ve been watching.” Nate said.
“Yeah that is it. Maybe you’ll do just fine in here after all. You got that stare. What are you looking for son?”
“I don’t really know what you’re talking about.” I replied.
“You wouldn’t have come in here if you weren’t looking for something son.”
“I’m not looking for anything in particular. I’m just wandering around tonight.” I shifted my weight uncomfortably on my stool. I was not sure what these two characters were getting at.
“You’re just wandering, for no particular reason?” Nate added.
I was starting to feel a little cornered though their queries still sounded friendly. Something about them allowed for me to open up. I do not know why I felt that I could, maybe it was all of the drinks that I had in me but I just decided to speak. I started off with the simple plan of saying something to appease them but the only person I was tricking was me. I was more honest than ever before and had no reason to be. Then again I had no reason to not be either.
“I don’t know. I’m just looking for, something.”
“Like what?” Said Nick.
“A reason I guess. I don’t know. I’m trying to give it all some substance. Meaning. Something. Sounds foolish.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, you asked.”
“I did. You’re alive aren’t you?” He was looking at me with great concern in his voice.
“Sometimes that isn’t enough though, you know? Like I feel guilty about it, like maybe I shouldn’t. I know plenty of folks who aren’t around anymore, and I feel like they should be, and I don’t have as much of right.”
“Yeah yeah, I here you man. You play cards?”
“Sometimes.”
“You get thrown a shitty hand every now and again?”
“Yeah. Everyone does.”
“Well yeah but some people always seem to win. Some come out about even. Some always seem to lose.”
“What’s your point?”
“Well, that it isn’t anyones choice what cards get put in that hand, they just are.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” I rolled my eyes. “Doesn’t mean you can’t ask why every now and again.”
“Every now and again you’ll get the same answer son.”
“What’s the answer?”
“Don’t ask why.”
“Easier said then done.”
“I know I know. I see it in you though. When young fellas see stuff before their time they start asking why. It’s a shame you don’t get to have a few more years on you before you go over there.”
“Over where?”
“Oh, I know where you been. Can’t fool Nick.” Nick took out a fresh cigarette and sat back slightly. He crossed his leg and sat still as if in deep thought. I was wondering where this conversation was going and was caught up in his last words. Could he have meant the same ‘over there’ that I thought of when I spoke to Mitchel about ‘over there’. He took a few long drags and continued. “I can see you look a little thrown off son. I just think that maybe you wouldn’t be so lost if you had gotten a few more years on you first.”
“Maybe” I said. I was not going to ask if we were talking about the same thing. I did not really want to know.
“Look son, all I’m saying is that it’s not good for people to skip by their appropriate blues level. It’s like a fine wine.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You can’t force good wine. You have to just let it age. If you try to force shit on it too early, even if you use the same fine ingredients, you end up with some bitter brew.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“No one does.” Nate said from behind the bar.
“So what am I supposed to do? I’m bitter brew I guess.” I was feeling frustrated at these gentlemen now. I just wanted a few drinks. I just wanted to check out something new. I did not ask for an interview with the wise Nick.
“Man, you just have to swallow that stuff. No choice. Get on with it. Let time do the rest of the work and hope that it fixes everything. It usually does.”
“Look guys I appreciate the sage like advice but I’ve gotta get out of here.” I stood up and pulled out some cash to pay Nate.
“All right son, but you gotta remember to just go with the flow. No premature blues.”
I reached out to shake his hand. “When’s the next time you play? Maybe I’ll bring my lady in here next time.”
Nick smiled at me as I slowly backed up and said. “Oh we play every night.”
I walked up the street and hailed a cab. On the way home I stayed quiet. The street lights provided a soft light that made me long for sleep. It had been a strange night filled with strange characters. I thought about the advice that Nick had provided. Some of it was very cliche but it
was sound. I wanted to believe it was more important than it was, not just the ramblings of an old blues player.
I arrived at home and quietly opened the door. I didn’t want to wake susie. I washed up and removed the smell of liquor and cigarette smoke as best I could and slipped into bed. I felt around on the bed with my hand until I found Susie’s face. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered “I love you, goodnight honey.”
She muttered a half asleep “Love you too” before slipping back into dream world.
I woke the next morning when Susie stirred from her slumber. She rolled over and kissed me on the nose. “Let’s get some breakfast”.
It took me slightly longer to get going, and my head was throbbing from the hangover that I was experiencing. I drank a couple of glasses of water, took a few aspirins, and then took a long shower. A bit more refreshed, me and Susie set out to grab ourselves some breakfast at our favorite diner downtown.
As I drove downtown Susie and I traded our stories. I divulged the details of my experience in the blues bar. “The old guys were crazy in there. The blues was good though. I want to take you theres sometime. It had this really old feel to it. I really think you’d appreciate it.”
“Nick and Nate huh?” she said. She seemed thoroughly entertained by my description of them and there wise man antics. “Sounds neat, where did you say it was?”
“It was over on Kelley Street between Sixth and Seventh.”
“What was it called?”
“Hm? Oh, the ‘Sound’.”
“I wanna see, can we drive by it?”
“Sure.”
I think that she was just being nice but I was still pretty intrigued by the evenings events so I weaved my car over the few blocks tracing the steps I had taken the previous evening. I drove down Kelley Street.
“Are you sure this is where you were?”
“I’m positive. I always remember my way around.”
“It’s just that these buildings are all so run down.”
“You’ll see it’s just up here on the right, I remember walking past that store right over…”
“What happened to it?”
I was speechless. The building was boarded up and half burned down. I got out of my car and wandered up to it to inspect closer. “Maybe there was an accident after I left last night?”
I saw an old man walking down the street. I called out to him. “Are you from around here?”
“Born and raised three blocks from here.” He responded proudly.
“Could you tell me what happened to this place? This is the ‘Sound’ right?”
“Son, this is the ‘Sound’ but…” He paused and looked at me in a puzzled manner.
“But what?” I snapped.
“Well it’s just that I used to drink here every night and come and listen to ‘Nick and the Operators’ play.”
I was relieved. “Yeah I know Nick. So what happened?”
He looked at in an even stranger way then before. “Well, son it’s just that it burned down twenty-six years ago with the whole damned band inside. I remember it. It was a damned shame. Some kind of freak accident. Nick, the band, the bartender Nate, and a whole mess of young folks were in there when it happened.”
