by A. M. Brooks
Sergeant Ramirez was waiting for me at the bar when I got back inside. Normally a uniformed cop in a bar would make visitors nervous, but locals never had a problem with it. I shook my head. Even Ramirez had managed to check on me more than the guys had in the past three months. At first it had been every day which was annoying. Now his visits were weekly and I looked forward to seeing him. Mostly I just liked to push his buttons. Some habits never die.
“What’s hot today, Serg?” I asked him in my overly sweet waitress voice.
“Seriously?” he asked, rolling his eyes at my question. It was obvious he noted the sarcasm in my voice. I tipped my head to the side, watching him, not apologizing and just waiting for him to continue.
“I received a call from Seth this morning.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at me. “I was wondering if he contacted you like he said he was going to.”
“I haven’t heard from the kid in months Serg,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, “I don’t even know if I could talk to him without reaching through the phone to strangle him.” The other guys pulling away, irritated me but I could handle it. Not Seth thought. He was different. He had been my best friend too. My first kiss, my first love, my first everything, and he bailed.
Serg looked down at the counter, his brow furrowing in thought, not even batting an eye at my empty death threats. “Something sounded off with him,” he said worriedly. “That’s why I’m asking. I’m sure it’s nothing. He just sounded… flat.” His warm gaze lifted back to me.
I look away. “Well apparently he is very devastated by what happened to Blake,” again the sarcasm leaked into my voice. Serg looked at me a little softer now. He knew how I felt about the guys all ditching out after the funeral. “Look, not to be rude but I have a table and it’s almost the lunch rush so…”
“Yeah, I’m heading out,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “One more thing, Pricilla wants you to stop by for dinner tomorrow evening. She said she would make your favorite. Plus Katy and Nico are wanting to see you again.”
“Sure,” I replied even though I did not want to be social. I went out of the way to avoid people as much as I could. Pricilla was hard to say no to. Plus if I didn’t go, it’d be just another night eating a PB&J at home by myself.
“Bueno, I’ll let her know. If you hear from Seth, try and see where he is. Like I said, he sounded…different,” Serg said. Worry was etched in the deep lines on his face.
“Got it.” I waved him off.
“Adios,” he answered before slipping out the door, back into the bright Nevada sun. One look at the clock let me know I still had five long hours to go in my shift. I didn’t want to be worried about Seth. He made his bed and now he had to lie in it. Instead, I pasted a smile on and embraced the sugary waitress voice as I headed to my new tables.
I imagined Blake sitting at the far corner of the bar next to the pool tables like he always did. He would be smiling if he was here, probably chatting up one of the regulars or a pretty girl from out of town. I’d put in an order of mozzarella sticks for him because he was always hungry and I wouldn’t want him to fill up on just beer. He had to be sober enough to drive me home eventually. Luis would come out and give him a hard time about being a permanent fixture and if we wanted a job here too. I can still hear Blake’s laugh, the rumble that comes from deep in the chest. Heartfelt and real. Other people would smile just because he sounded like he was having a good time. And he would really laugh at Luis’ suggestion. He’d make it up later though by inviting his never-ending parade of friends to join him creating more business for Senor Locos. Blake never ran out of friends. He was naturally someone people were drawn to. Someone people could trust. He worked hard at any odd jobs he could. He even had time to fit in a few credits at the community college. Something I hadn’t known about until after his death. Guilt had plagued me for days. My brother had been running all over the place working, going to school, and taking care of me. It hit me hard that it probably had been too much on him. That he most likely was exhausted, stretched thin, that his body had given up, and that tree had been collateral damage.
My fingers curl around the edge of the tray I’m carrying. My lungs fight to work, because for a second, just a small amount of time when I look at that corner, I can still picture him there. Still being my hero. Watching and smiling.
Hearts and Bruises
Hearts and Flowers
Where Demons Hide—Winter 2019
Flesh—Spring 2020
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