I Could Use A Drink

"What am I going to do?" The nameless man asked himself. "It'll only be a matter of minutes before they find Hiro in that closet…they'll ask for witnesses and someone is bound to have spotted me from their goddamned lovely-dovely bedroom…I need to ditch this hoodie, now—it's the only thing that someone could use to identify me. My hair is too dark to be distinguishable in the dark—but where am I going to dump this thing? I need somewhere it cannot be found…all of the dumpsters in this area are behind alarms. The only place open this late is the bar…I should be able to put it in the trash there, or plant it on someone else. If they ID me, it's all over…"

He made haste through the dead of the night. He was fond of being a nightwalker—it was, perhaps, not the first time several residents of the area spotted him. Fortunately for him, nobody bothered to learn about him or his origins or anything about him. They were all too afraid. They made sure to gossip and speak ill of him in the daylight, however. He heard it in passing several days in a row. At cafes or libraries or others—they all laughed in a hubbub at the strange boy whom they could not even name. The strange boy who, it would seem now, would be wanted for murder.

"Did I leave anything on him? I'm not convinced I ever touched Hiro—I know I disposed of the weapon. I scrubbed the place clean of hair pretty frequently…There may be shoe prints but I don't think those could be linked to me without other evidence…No. No, there's nothing that links me to him—I was never there. And even if I was there, how would I have hurt him?"

The nameless man made it to the bar. He put his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. It was clear from the lights outside and blaring music that a party was going on. He took note that it was ideal for blending in—if cameras were to be pulled later, it'd be impossible to conclusively say it was him in that hoodie. However, it meant that he would almost certainly get checked for ID. He had no other options to get rid of the hoodie.

He opened the door and tried to nonchalantly walk in, as though it were natural and warranted. A tall man sitting on a stool stood up—and the scene he feared most played out.

"Hey, just gotta ask you for your ID."

He kept his cool. "Oh, of course, let me get my wallet for ya…" He pretended to dig around in his pants pocket. While doing so, he saw a trash can in the back of the room, next to the bathrooms. He just needed to somehow get there to get rid of his hoodie. He felt freedom was still possible.

"What the—man, I'm sorry…I must have forgotten it…it's not here anywhere…I'll be in and out real quick though, I just need to use the bathroom."

"Can't do it, brother. You gotta take your piss problem somewhere else. There's a bush outside."

"Dude, I'm a regular here, you've never seen me before?" The nameless man lied unconsciously. He knew what the other man would say and he still said it.

"Can't say I have. And it doesn't matter. No ID, no entry. Tough luck."

"I really just need the restroom—"

"Use the bush outside. It's fertilizer. You're holding up the line."

The nameless man had nothing else to say. He lost. His choices were to drop the hoodie outside somewhere and wait for police to connect the dots—or to claim that one of the eyewitnesses could not identify him in the darkness of the night. He turned to walk away when the lady behind him jumped forward:

"Wait, my bad, I got his ID right here. I'm his mom. He comes here all the time with me."

The nameless man was stunned—he felt his heart drop out of a sort of relief. The guard looked at the woman and clearly recognized her:
"Ah, Wendy! This your kid? Why didn't you just say so, sweetheart? Yeah, the ID looks just like him. Alright, come on in."

The nameless man turned around again and tried to play it off: "Ahaha, thanks, mom…I forgot I left my ID with you…"

"My pleasure. Come with me, pretty boy."

The pair sat at the bar. Naturally, the nameless man had questions:

"Who are you? How did you have my ID and why did you lie for me?"

The woman apparently named Wendy answered: "Relax, love. Got a ton of fakes on me—made a nice business out of selling them. High schoolers will pay a pretty penny just to get their hands on a bottle. You're lucky I had a face that looked like you."

"Wow. You carry those everywhere? Doesn't the thought of getting searched or caught get exhausting after a while?"

"We've all got burdens, pretty boy. Just 'cause mine come in the form of some cards don't mean you don't got yours too."

"Well said. Why did you lie for me?"

"I'm a shallow girl…You're a cute boy. With that combination, you could get me to do a lot more than lie for you…"

"Ha, wow…okay…Well, it should be said that you're not too bad yourself."

The nameless man said this and meant it. He found her gorgeous. While wording his response, his eyes followed down her long, brown hair and found it full of grace. The black dress she wore, he noted, did her a few favors. She could not have been even a decade older than him—yet the guard believed she was his mother. He noted that it must be because either the guard is a blockhead or because this woman knew him in a more intimate way. She spoke again:

"Not too bad, huh? I've been known to be a bit bad…"

The nameless man swallowed.

"...and just 'cause I'm shallow don't mean I can't be bad. I just have less places to hide all the bad. I bet you couldn't even tell, pretty boy."

At this point, he wasn't sure if he should attempt to escape this conversation, if he should ask further, or if he should passively play along.

"Ahaha, what could a lovely lady like you be hiding?"

"Enough about me, dear! Let me hear about you! I didn't risk my honor at this bar to talk your ear off! I know I see a mystery in that dark head of hair…start giving me some clues to solve it!"

He did as he always does and froze. He's never grown accustomed to conversation like this, let alone open-ended questions like these. He ventured an answer:

"I…um…I'm new to this area—well, not entirely new—I mean, I've been here less than a year so that's somewhat new. I wanted to get away from my old life and all that so I did what I had to—"

She sensed that he was obviously uncomfortable and reassured him. "It's okay, love, if you're not that good at this. The stories worth telling are told with a thousand stutters. They got words that others don't. Start small. What's your name?"

"I…don't really know my name."

"Oh? How's that so?"

"The people who called me it are no longer here. With them went also the memory of who I am."

"You remember how old you are?"

"19…—20. I turned 20 two days ago."

"Just in time for a drink. It sounds like it could help you a lot, sweetie. You ever had one before?"

"No…isn't it clear? I'm probably more uptight than any of the other boys you sit with…"

"Ahaha, this is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion for me, love. The other ones bore me to death. Bartender!"

"You're probably right…I've gone my whole life without so much as a good night of sleep…insomnia and restlessness have ruined me. I don't know what alcohol's like, but it cannot be any worse than how I'm doing…"

"Been there, done that. I know some scotch will fix you right up. Get me two of them, bartender."

"I…don't have any money to pay you."

"We're way past that, pretty boy. Hey, by the way, what made you come here in the first place? It looked like you were about to pass out outside."

"I'm…not sure how to explain. I need to leave something here for a friend to pick up."
"Ah, a drop, eh? You're safe here, you don't have to use vague words with me…"

"Yeah, a drop."

"Of course—you can get to that in just a minute, that scotch is here. After a drink, I want to hear all about you. Maybe it doesn't sound too…orthodox, or however ya say it…but I bet you the deepest conversations happen in the bar. You're amped up, you're too relaxed to think of any lies, and you got a beauty sitting next to you. Talk like that don't happen with nobility, baby. Even though it should. Come on, take a sip."

The nameless man drank the whole glass as soon as he was encouraged to. He spoke again:

"...Ah! That's…that's it…I'm starting to remember…I think."

"Yes, tell me all about it!"

His eyes started to slowly go in and out. Wendy mumbled in his ear:

"I told you…just 'cause I'm shallow don't mean I can't be…bad."

His eyes closed before his head hit the table.