October Night

Out in the fog; lost in an endless time continuum. Sitting there on the cold concrete steps, watching the moon, they feel the presence of the world itself. Scott Joplin plays on in the distance. Happy rag music plays on slicing through the silence of the night.

“So where did it all happen Lou? That place you worked at, where is it?” asked the young man in the tattered grey suit.

“Ah, is up a block or so on the right,” answered Lou with a worn and tired voice, “Tha old saloon idn’t far from here. Id was renovated after tha fire, and had been brought back some, but not quite ta like it was back in its glory days. Yea, tha was the place to be. Warm rich lager served around the poker table. Laughs and good times was all we was in the business of makin’.”

Coldness seeps through the air of this bone chilling night as the two continue to sit. A tall, black lamppost casts an eerie light through the fog. Like a light trying to break through; a light muted by an overpowering presence. The young man took a deep breath and sighed heavy.

“So why didn’t they rehire you when the place reopened?” he asked. Sounds of leaves rustling in the trees surround the lampposts; a gentle loving breeze touches each leaf with a guiding push.

“I can’t tell ya in the slightest,” breathed Lou. “All I figure is that I’m a-getting’ too old for that bartending and such. They want them youthful lads like yourself at the bar and them beautiful women up on the stage. Thas the business they’re pushin’ now.”

Footsteps and laughter can be heard in the distance. The young man contemplates the woes of the old man, wondering if he too will one day end up on the streets, without a niche, forgotten and dumped for something more appealing. A loud clang startles him from his thoughts.

“It’s probably just the drunks at the saloon,” comments Lou, “No one ever comes out of there sober, not even the flies on the walls.”

They draw back into silence, as the heavy night air closes in.

“Well,” says the young man, “what says you and me go out for a drink, eh? We’ll find us another, better saloon to patronize…One with less bullshit and more beer.”

Smiling to himself, Lou agrees, slowly rising from the cold steps, into the warmth and comfort of his new found companion.

“It’s real nice havin’ you here Billy,” said Lou, “You’ve got a heart of gold, just like your old man did.”

And with that, the pair walked on into the night, while somewhere near or far, Billy’s father smiled down on them as he watched his best friend and his son walking down that desolate street on a cold October night.