Status Update
Carl was in the bar in his usual spot with his usual drink doing his usual staring at the screen behind the bar wondering what to do next. Besides ordering another drink, of course. The bar was an old one without a sign out front but it was well known to the locals. It did not require any effort toward advertising to stay in business. It offered exactly what its target market required: a dimly lit room, somewhat but not terribly noisy, alcohol, and a television with cable to occasionally distract a person from their thoughts. The bartenders didn’t ask many questions, didn’t give you their name unless you asked and generally left you the hell alone except for when you glass was empty. It was a good bar. A dying breed. A man could be comfortable alone there.
For the first time in several years Carl’s old acquaintance Sam walked in the front door. He knew exactly where to look for Carl. He came over and sat down.
“I heard from Al” he said.
Carl didn’t blink.
“You hear me?” he said.
“Yeah”
“And?”
“You heard from Al” Carl repeated and took a sip of Scotch.
Al was an old friend of Carl’s. They had been in the army together decades before and subsequently had been business partners in a small stationary store that did OK for a while but eventually went under after a Staples moved into the area. Al took losing the business hard, first by getting hooked on Vicodin and booze and then later, after a car crash and rehab, religion. They say there are no atheists in foxholes but Al had been one (though neither Carl nor Al was ever literally in a foxhole as they were in the army in peacetime). Now Al was studying to join the priesthood. Carl remembered when Al told him he was leaving the state to go into the church, easy to do since it had taken place in this very bar. Carl and Al’s friendship was already strained over the closing of the store and Al disapproved of Carl’s continued drinking, however relatively limited it was compared to Al’s at his peak. Carl winced but raised his glass to his friend who replied in kind with a coke. After the toast Al left and as Carl watched the door of the bar close behind him he knew he’d seen his old friend for the last time. It was a good run taken overall, the good times outweighed the bad. Carl was philosophical; he knew all relationships run their course sooner or later either by choice or by circumstance or by death.
“You want to know what he’s up to?” asked Sam
“Priestly duties, I imagine” Carl replied.
“You might be surprised.”
“I might not care.”
“When did you become a self-absorbed asshole, Carl?”
“Always been one. You never noticed.”
“You used to give a shit about your friends.”
“I still do, just in a different way. I don’t need to know every detail of their goddamned lives. If they want me, they know where to find me. I’ve had the same home phone number for 35 years. Sometimes I even check my e-mail.”
“Maybe if you made an effort more people would try to find you.”
“I made no effort and this is the first time I’m seeing you in person in what, five years or so Sam?” Carl drained the last of his Scotch and signaled for another. “You want anything Sam? A beer maybe?”
Sam shook his head. “No, I’d better be going.”
“Al knows where to find me if he wants me to know. Better that you don’t tell me.”
Sam looked at Carl in disbelief and got up to leave. “Be seeing you, Carl.”
“You know where to find me. Have fun.” Carl raised his freshly poured Scotch in Sam’s direction.
Sam walked out the front door, the same front door Al walked through years before. Carl was alone again with his Scotch and the TV. He looked up to see what was on the tube just as the channel went to a commercial.
For the first time in several years Carl’s old acquaintance Sam walked in the front door. He knew exactly where to look for Carl. He came over and sat down.
“I heard from Al” he said.
Carl didn’t blink.
“You hear me?” he said.
“Yeah”
“And?”
“You heard from Al” Carl repeated and took a sip of Scotch.
Al was an old friend of Carl’s. They had been in the army together decades before and subsequently had been business partners in a small stationary store that did OK for a while but eventually went under after a Staples moved into the area. Al took losing the business hard, first by getting hooked on Vicodin and booze and then later, after a car crash and rehab, religion. They say there are no atheists in foxholes but Al had been one (though neither Carl nor Al was ever literally in a foxhole as they were in the army in peacetime). Now Al was studying to join the priesthood. Carl remembered when Al told him he was leaving the state to go into the church, easy to do since it had taken place in this very bar. Carl and Al’s friendship was already strained over the closing of the store and Al disapproved of Carl’s continued drinking, however relatively limited it was compared to Al’s at his peak. Carl winced but raised his glass to his friend who replied in kind with a coke. After the toast Al left and as Carl watched the door of the bar close behind him he knew he’d seen his old friend for the last time. It was a good run taken overall, the good times outweighed the bad. Carl was philosophical; he knew all relationships run their course sooner or later either by choice or by circumstance or by death.
“You want to know what he’s up to?” asked Sam
“Priestly duties, I imagine” Carl replied.
“You might be surprised.”
“I might not care.”
“When did you become a self-absorbed asshole, Carl?”
“Always been one. You never noticed.”
“You used to give a shit about your friends.”
“I still do, just in a different way. I don’t need to know every detail of their goddamned lives. If they want me, they know where to find me. I’ve had the same home phone number for 35 years. Sometimes I even check my e-mail.”
“Maybe if you made an effort more people would try to find you.”
“I made no effort and this is the first time I’m seeing you in person in what, five years or so Sam?” Carl drained the last of his Scotch and signaled for another. “You want anything Sam? A beer maybe?”
Sam shook his head. “No, I’d better be going.”
“Al knows where to find me if he wants me to know. Better that you don’t tell me.”
Sam looked at Carl in disbelief and got up to leave. “Be seeing you, Carl.”
“You know where to find me. Have fun.” Carl raised his freshly poured Scotch in Sam’s direction.
Sam walked out the front door, the same front door Al walked through years before. Carl was alone again with his Scotch and the TV. He looked up to see what was on the tube just as the channel went to a commercial.
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