September 1978

Jealousies surface as two brothers have a heated argument about their father in a local Irish pub.

 

 

Smoke clouded the darkly lit interior of Smitty’s Irish pub. It flowed toward

the billiard table lighting and lost itself in the dark wooden rafters of the ceiling. The smell of draught beer and tobacco smothered Gary’s face when he walked through the heavy oak door. He scanned the room for his brother and found Allan at the billiard table with a cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth and a look of complete concentration on his face, accentuated by beads of sweat along the crease of his forehead. 

Gary knew Allan had been here for a while, taking his frustrations out on the cue ball. The concentrated look on his face reminded Gary of their father, ready to pounce on the slightest irritation that crossed his path. But Allan wasn’t the same as their father. He had temperance. He knew when to stop and he knew how to change for the better. These traits came from their mother and they passed over Gary like a soft wind cooling a bad sunburn, leaving him to replicate his father’s fiery intemperate behavior. Gary knew this and kept himself in check, mostly for April’s sake. 

Gary seated himself at the bar and gave his brother a quick nod to let him know he was there. Allan did the same and raised his index finger to let Gary know he needed a few more minutes to finish the game. 

            “Guinness please, John,” Gary said.

            “Coming right up,” said John Smith the middle aged owner.

            “How you doin’ Gary? Haven’t seen you for a while now. Whatcha been up to?”

            “Been busy with school and work. Can’t wait to quit the mill. The place is driving me crazy. Long hours and I’m physically beat at the end of the day. But guess it keeps me out of trouble.”

            “Yeah jobs like that just about kill ya, but they keep a man honest. My granddad used to tell me he shoveled coal from the old train cars for fifty cents an hour, back in the thirties. I’ve never met a man work as hard as my granddad. Old Irish son of a b***h’d polish his shoes every Sunday before church, and then he’d be workin’ on roofs early Monday mornin’. That was when principles counted for more than profits.”

The bar’s heavy door opened and closed frequently as patrons came and went. Every face was familiar, like looking into a mirror and seeing yourself wearing different clothes. John welcomed each like a family member returning home from work and for most of the drinkers, Smitty’s was a second home. Gary knew just about everybody in the bar, knew their stories and their ties with one another. His eyes focused on Don Miles who he had known since he was a little boy. Don worked with his father for a while one winter. He was handy with a hammer and one of the last few men who built barns from the ground up, in the old post and beam style. Steve admired him for it. 

Now, Don was sulking at the other end of the bar. Gary couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for Don’s disgruntled look, but he guessed it had something to do with his daughter. She had left for a university on the west coast a few years ago and hadn’t come home very often. When she finally came home the last time, she broke the news to Don and Shelia that she was a lesbian and had a girlfriend named Amanda from San Diego, and she planned on staying out west with her after she graduated. Don told one person and the news spread like a fired 12 gauge shotgun bullet. It had caused a stir in the community for a few weeks, but now the gossip was dying down and relegated to yesterday’s “big news.” Don, who couldn’t bear the brunt of being the talk of the town, secluded himself here at Smitty’s. 

It made Gary think about small town life and escaping it all, divorcing himself from the roots that were already rotting underneath him. It brought a smile to his face, to think that he could actually do something with his life. He was young, but mature for his age. Talking to his brother tonight would help resolve many of Allan’s hidden feelings, mainly jealousy and indecisiveness. Since Gary started dating April last year, Allan who was still without a woman felt slighted by his older brother. Allan had become uncommunicative and evasive when Gary tried to talk to him. Here tonight, Gary had made it clear to his little brother that he needed to let go of some consternation; in doing so, he hoped Allan would open up as well. Not having Allan to talk to amplified his feeling of detachedness; Allan’s unresponsiveness produced a feeling of severed empathy, something he could never replace.

Gary looked at his brother again across the large tabled room. Allan shook a couple hands before looking in Gary’s direction. When they made eye contact, the sense that tonight would be the night of reconciliation dawned on each of their faces. Brotherly relationships were too precious to let fade into estrangement and awkwardness. Allan made his way toward the bar and to where Gary was seated.

“Another Guinness please, John,” Allan said.

“You got it.”

Allan who had just turned twenty in August wasn’t of the legal drinking age, but here at Smitty’s, John overlooked such triviality in favor of patronage and familial bond. Everyone felt at home here and John wouldn’t have it any other way.

“How long you been here?” Gary asked his younger brother. Both were sitting in tall stools near the center of the bar.

“Not too long, probably ‘bout forty minutes before you got here.”

“Did you win the game?”

“Nah, but I gave him a run for his money. So now I’m down ten bucks. You’re gonna have to buy this round,” Allan laughed lightly.

“Alright, no problem,” Gary said agreeably.

Gary wanted to skip all the small talk and get to the core of what mattered. His thoughts were scattered and he was having difficulty unlocking the floodgate to open conversation. He thought he would pace himself and work up to the substantive questions and explanations, but circumlocution had never been a practice of his. He looked at Allan huddled over his beer and watched his brother’s eyes wince from the heavy smoke drifting through the air. He wondered what Allan was thinking. If he was thinking the same things as himself, it would be easier to make the first move. Gary hated the awkward stumbling of words as small talk was pushed through their mouths by a stronger and more forceful overflow of feeling, producing irregular pauses, drawn out silences, and unnatural reactions. Then Gary found the question that could catalyze their conversation and propel it into the realm of brotherhood, where disclosed emotional profundity and integrity wasn’t absent.  

“Have you talked to dad lately?”

Allan paused and let the question wash over him. He took a few moments to respond, to formulate the right tone to deliver the response. 

“Yeah, I saw him yesterday morning. He was workin’ outside in the yard, cutting up dead branches from those old maples by the house.”

“So, he seemed to be doing okay?”

“As far as I could tell. He was keeping busy. Didn’t say too much, as you know.”

There was another moment of silence between the two young men. Waves of talking flowed in a din through Gary’s ears. The rhythm was soft, loud, and then louder, finally turning into a prolonged lull as though everyone in the darkly-lit bar was telling a secret. Once again, Gary felt the need to push the conversation into deeper waters, where neither he nor Allan could touch the bottom. 

“I’m glad dad’s getting by okay, but I’m afraid I don’t know too much about him anymore. I mean I haven’t seen much of him since we left home, around the time when mom left. I always thought that’s what he wanted, cause as far as I could tell, he never liked me too much anyway.”

When Gary finished speaking, he could see Allan’s brow furrow and a look of disdain creep into his face, shaping it with a tightened mouth and weathered eyes, lit with astonished resentment. He knew he had stirred something up inside of Allan. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s you who never liked him. That’s why you don’t see him. Sometimes you just have to accept things and not be so damn judgmental. He’s your father too. Your problem is, you’re just like him, stubborn as all hell and never one to look in the mirror. That’s why you don’t get along.”

Gary could feel a surge of righteousness blast through his whole being. Immediately he lost all reasonableness and turned defensive, forgetting the initial purpose of the conversation and replacing it with intentions to make Allan feel ashamed and inferior. Gary’s eyes darted between the dark wood of the long bar and Allan’s expectant and equally righteous face.

“How can you say that s**t to me? After all that son of a b***h has done to me, you, and our family? I’m supposed to just accept it all and gulp down my pride and give up what I know is right for the sake of old-fashioned principles? Honor thy father? Bullshit! Once he admits he’s wrong and suffers a little humility for a change, then maybe I’ll make the effort to see him, but not until.”

By this time Gary was breathing heavily and seething. He wanted to crush Allan’s position, taking away any retort he could offer; although in his mind, Allan had none. Allan looked at his older brother with equal acrimony. John Smith could sense the tension between the brothers as he looked at their solemn harrowed faces from across the bar. He decided to let them be. Some moments passed as both brothers sat hovered over their beer, brooding. The din had died down as time passed. Workingmen returned home to their families and the remaining pitiful few were the ones without anyone or anything to return to, each realizing it’s better to share loneliness than to have it all to oneself. John Smith resorted to wiping down the hard wood bar, polishing it to a lustrous shine with an old rag in large pressured circular motions, his face rough and prideful.

“Why don’t you just admit what’s really bothering you,” Gary said.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know damn well. It’s been a problem for you from the start.”

Allan let out a little contemptuous chuckle followed by a sardonic half-smile. Rotating his view to look Gary in the eyes, he spoke carefully. The muscles in his neck tightened and the corners of his eyes narrowed, as though he wanted to somehow pierce Gary’s heart with his sharp stare.

“You’re a big-headed son of a b***h. You think everything revolves around you and how you see things. I couldn’t care less about you and your damn girlfriend. Go on living anyway you want to, but just remember, when you s**t on everyone around you, it’s you who’s gonna be sorry.”

“I will live any damn way I want to, and no one’s gonna tell me how to spend my time or who to treat nicely. If someone deserves respect, then I’ll give it to them. If not, then forget ‘em; I have enough obligation in my life. Pleasing disapproving people, family or not, is not worth a f*****g minute of my time. Call me arrogant, whatever. I don’t give a s**t.” 

“Fine. There’s no point in even talking to you anymore. Go ahead and enjoy your precious time by yourself. I don’t want to be included.”

The bar’s lighting enhanced everyone’s shadow. The ceiling fan spun its shadow slowly against the wall behind the bar, sending ripples of smoke through the dense space, and absorbing Gary’s thought for a moment. Allan grabbed his down-feathered jacket and put it on hurriedly. Gary watched him leave without regret, still fuming. Allan’s will didn’t give. It wasn’t malleable and because it was wholly external from Gary’s immediate attention, he realized it wasn’t a primary concern of his after all. Allan could be tamed some other time he thought. It was approximately ten minutes after Allan left that Gary felt his righteousness intensify. It was a reaction spurred by his self-doubt, looming in the background of his consciousness, waiting to take over his mind, but a powerful mixture of stubbornness and pride held it firmly in place, an indelible perversity of self control.

 He sat for a while longer staring into the wooden bar’s reflection on his beer mug. He lit a cigarette and inhaled involuntarily. John Smith eased his way into Gary’s vision, drying a mug with a different but similar dirty old rag. 

“Can I get you another?” John asked with a touch of sympathy in his voice.

“Nah, thanks, John. I’ve got to get back home soon, got to get up early for work tomorrow,” Gary said, aware of John’s considerate tone.

“Alright, take your time Gary.” 

“Thanks.”

A few minutes passed and Gary grabbed John’s attention by raising his right hand and pointing his index finger toward the ceiling.

“On second thought John, I will take another.”

 

Author's Note

constructive advice please.

Reviews

[deeps]

I like it, wonderful imagery and detail,
Such feelings in this write, wonderufl emotion.
Like the characters.

I was always taught though when a new paragraph
starts you leave a space. That is all I have for you.
I like what you wrote. It's very wonderful.