6.

  A Glass slid along the edge of the bar-top. Kevin, felt odd in many social settings, especially now that his wife left him for the washing machine, as he kept telling himself. For years, before he even fully left college Kevin had been in a couple, and now here he was, single….sort of….as he knew the divorce was still getting started. He had moved out of the house the very night that Henry's great sword and he became acquainted. The lease was going to be up in thirty days anyway and he figured it would just be easier if he downsized. In truth, it was more like starting over, as he took only a suitcase of clothing, a toothbrush, three pairs of shoes and his favorite pillow and left without offering any kind of fight on that night back on the 31st of May.

  "God I hate that day." Kevin spoke as he gripped the glass of Dirty Shirley. Others in bar avoided him well before he placed the order for the very odd looking drink for a man to order in a dive bar, which was just fine with him, as tonight. Thursday, the third evening after his forced vacation began, Kevin just wanted to continue drinking away his brain cells as he had done the prior two nights. He had not even considered the economic impact awaiting him of divorce and child support and alimony. The damn washing machine and the task of 'Slay Queen' hovering around his mind owned his cognitive focus. Then again why would money be an immediate concern for him, Henry was supposed to be in so much a better financial situation than he, and up until the dreaded evening of the 31st, Rachel had a higher income than Kevin. Of course, outside of lofty dreams, he never had put much thought into these kinds of things.

  His drinking didn't actually bother his bank account much, as each of the prior nights he only ordered two rounds during his six hour stay, however he was still leaving far more buzzed than the white collar office manager felt comfortable being in public. What a lightweight.

  Thoughts of his predicament swirled about his mind. The idea of having to slay the Queen to keep his job had him puzzled. "Probably just some bullshit put in there to easily fire anyone who stepped out of line." He spoke, looking down at his glass while spinning his wedding ring, realizing as the tattered little band of gold colored cheap metal should and no longer needed to be around his finger. Yet…it had been there for so long prior, so long the line on his finger was a true visible line around his finger.

  "What's some bullshit?" a voice, soft and mostly friendly sounds out to him, reaching him in his mired and depressive state. He looked up from his mostly full drink, the ice all but fully melted by the dance of time upon the glass and its contents.

  "Huh?" Kevin's eyes rise with a sense of surprise, curious to answer, but eager for that primal thing that hides itself inside every creature of mankind, community and commiseration. Dive into sympathy and empathy with him, join him in his problems and feel the pangs of his daily life. Kevin's eyes call this out as his glance moved from the glass to the air and the people around him in this bar, masquerading as a place for family and sports, when really it was nothing more than a home for the homeless. Not in the way of those actually without a roof over their heads with empty halls and rooms absent the warmth of another on the regular of evenings. Kevin scanned about, looking for the source of the reply to his rhetorical statement.

  "Bud, here." She whistles even, raising a hand and offering a small smile. She is younger, she is the bar tender. Of a different world and perhaps generation, but still a person, still valid. "Yeah…so what's bullshit?" She asked again, her look is more of a curious nature, wondering if the drink was not mixed well or if something was bothering the client in the chair before her.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Oh….uhh…nothing I guess." He replied instantly almost out of habit, dismissing his plight, much as he had all throughout his marriage, actively repressing the troubles of his life. He was a man after all, isn't that what he is supposed to do? Keep your troubles to yourself Kevin. Don't talk about it Kevin. Well….Kevin sat there and looked back at his drink, his no longer cold Dirty Shirley…It was time for maybe a change in his approach, why else was he going to the bar. It surely wasn't because he was afraid of the quiet in his new apartment that he rented that had to sounds, no furniture, no vestibule of plants and pictures, no life, vacant…..something foreign to his mind.

  "Actually….yeah…well. There is some bullshit….." He took a big swig of his drink, grimacing and tilting his head, squinting his eyes to nothing more than razorblade slits from the sour and sweet flavors colliding on his tongue. She turned back after tugging on a tap, filling a mug for another at the bar. Yet, she made sure it was obvious that she was listening, she was a bartender after all, listening or pretending to was half of their job. Right? Kevin felt that small taste of liquid courage, the courage to share his life's dilemmas with a stranger. "My wife left me and I think I might get fired."

  "Ohh no….I'm sorry to hear that." She spoke in a vocal tone, so similar to one of sincerity that the only thing holding her mask up for Kevin was the fact that his drinking had taken effect, and he didn't know this woman. He, with the aid of Shirley and her Dirty lies felt a pat on the back to expound further.

  "She's leaving me for a washing machine, a damned washing machine. All because Henry has a washing machine. But I mean….how can I compete with that?" He laughed a few chuckles which she exchanged with a smile tinged with slight concern and fear. That which is unknown is always scary and the source or birthplace of horror. For Kevin, this was Thursday night. "I mean seriously….a dammed washing machine….a mother fucking washing machine. Isn't that some bullshit?" She nods with a look of regret and terror, doing her best to scoot slowly down the bar away from Kevin. "Anyway…I got pissed and threw a picture at an employee and so now I might lose my job. Unless apparently I 'Slay Queen'." He spoke the silly words in air quotes. "What even is that? I mean what is 'Slay Queen?"

  "I have no clue…..but do you want another drink?"

  "Ohhhh…uh no just my tab please." She printed out the tab and took his card. "So uhh….thanks for listening. This has been a really rough month so far." He slid a hand up behind his hair, noticing that the girl behind the bar was mildly cute, apparently feigned kindness was Kevin's love language…might explain how he was with Rachel for so many years. He looked toward her eyes, trying to make contact. "So…uhhh….what's your name?"

  "Uhhh Farah. What is yours?" She asked not out of interest, at least not genuine interest outside of attempting to begin the parasitic relationship of patron and saint.

  "I'm Kevin." He smiled, feeling as though he had made his first true connection with a human since all this madness began. Things might not be as scary going forward as he initially perceived. He smiled and looked back at Farah one more time as he left the building, already planning his next return to the domicile of debauchery, the cradle of camaraderie under the influence of spirits. He felt spirited in his step.

  "I can beat this." He lifted his hand toward the sky as he marched toward his car, the theme from the movie Rocky playing inside the rattling confines of his head.

  "Hey Farah, what was up with that that little Asian dude?" another of the girls working the floor asked as Kevin disappeared into the parking lot.

  "No clue…but he tipped me $15 on a $12 tab. So I'm gonna play nice."