You need to get it together, Claire.
I had rolled my eyes at my father when he flippantly said that during my visit home over the weekend. No one had the right to tell me how to feel or behave. Mom only looked at me with sympathy before returning to her crocheting.
I couldn't get Daniel, my ex-husband, out of my mind. I felt overloaded and needed to decompress. The flashing neon lights above Bill's Bar looked inviting and it had been a long while since I'd drank anything strong.
I settled at the counter and the bartender smirked at me. I shook my head and said, “Just drinks, man. “ He was young, muscular and good-looking but I wasn't interested in anything else.
By midnight, I was three drinks past good decisions and very close to flooding the place with my tears. Laughter bounced off the walls around me as people drank and some danced. But the bartender gave me his full attention while pretending not to stare.
I wished Daniel did the same. He got too busy and stopped paying attention. I filed for divorce and that was the last time I saw him.
“Another one?” The bartender asked.
I nodded and slid my empty glass toward him. “Yes, make it ugly.” Then I belched and quickly covered my mouth. He chuckled and turned to pour more whiskey into the glass. Then a man sat beside me.
I had not seen him walk in but his presence made me shudder, a tremor running through me. “That seat is mine,” I muttered. I didn't want anyone sitting close to me.
“No, I think it's mine,” he said and I gasped. His sonorous voice made my stomach tighten and I looked up then. His brown eyes almost melted me. Nothing had changed about his looks. He still had the scar beneath his chin.
He had been dead for a month now—car accident. Among his personal effects were the divorce papers I sent to him. He did not signed them.
The bartender turned to slide my drink toward me and paused. “Who are you talking to?”
“Very funny,” I said turning my gaze to Daniel beside me.
The bartender's face stayed blank as he slowly set down my drink. “Are you okay?”
Oh no, I mentally facepalmed myself. “Still making scenes, eh Claire?” Daniel whispered and my mouth went dry. I was the only one who could see him.
Or so I thought, until the bartender glanced at the empty seat and froze. His face paled and his rag slipped from his hand. He stumbled backward into a waiter carrying a tray of glasses behind him. Glasses shattered to the floor as both bartender and waiter cursed.
“What a mess,” Daniel sighed and every light in the bar went out. Even in death, he had to have all the attention.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "What a mess!".
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