"Jason." He said. "What's up my man?"
It had been a good day, he thought. The bar had grossed over six hundred more than their average from the last couple years.
"Yeah, I'm still here." He said. "Just finishing things up."
Sean looked over at the clock on the wall behind the bar and nodded. Bar-time read a quarter to four.
"Yeah, for sure dude. C'mon down. I was gonna have another beer anyway." He paused. "Is everything OK?" He asked. He scowled and looked back to his beer. "Alright." He said. I'll see you in a few."
After pounding the rest of his Heineken Sean stepped into the walk-in and grabbed another bottle, then slammed the heavy door shut again. On his way back out to the front of the bar he reached his left hand into the office and killed the remaining two lights out front. Despite the fog outside, he couldn't help but smile to himself as he stepped out from behind the bar and sat down on a bar stool. Save the constant buzz of the cooler, there was only silence. The white Christmas lights that lit up the windows and the brick hearth downstairs gave off just enough light to fill the room with a soft glow. The effect was disarming but did little to ease his mind about the phone call from Jason. As he cracked open his beer he thought of calling Amy. But not wanting to wake her, he decided to enjoy these rare moments of silence alone.
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The first thing that Sean noticed about his roommate when he met him at the back door were his red eyes and smeared cheeks. And then that he was visibly shaking. It seemed to him that Jason was on the verge of collapsing to his feet at any second. What he did not notice was his friend's right hand and what dangled from it.
"Yo, Jay." He said, moving aside so that his friend could step past him. Sean swung the door shut and latched it.
"You look like you could use a drink." Sean said. Jason looked around at his friend's bar. Sean watched him, thinking it odd how lost his roommate looked in such a familiar place.
"I think I need to sit down." Jason said quietly.
"For sure." Sean said.
Sean could feel his arms tingle and his breath tighten as the two settled into the closest booth. But it wasn't until his friend dropped the forty-five caliber on the table between them that Sean realized his fears. The silence that followed the heavy knock of the metal gun on the oak table top, a sound that continued to repeat itself in waves -- much like a gavel does in a marble covered court room... The silence that followed was much the same, a unanimous verdict in which the world passed judgement in slow motion and Sean was left with the undeniable certainty that life would never again be the same.
"Holy shit." Sean said, his voice cracking. "What the hell, man?" Jason's hand still clutched the gun.
"I can't let it go." He said weakly. "I want to so bad, but I can't..."
Sean concentrated on his friend, feeling the rest of the room tilt just out of focus. Jason sat across from him, his blond curls sticking out from beneath his white pin-striped hat, his shoulders slumped forward, his left hand shaking as he lifted the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt to wipe his eyes and nose. His face was a reflection of the white Christmas lights that lined the hearth nearby. Behind his glossy stare was an emptiness that was haunting.
"I should be in jail right now." He said softly. "I shouldn't be here." Sean reached out slowly and rested his hand on his friend's.
"Here." He said. "Let it go."
Jason continued to tremor as he stared back through Sean, through the wood paneling and framed black and white photos that covered the walls behind him, through the darkness and the fog outside.
"I shouldn't be here." He said again.
"Let it go." Sean said. Jason stared. "Jason." He said again, this time almost at a whisper. "Let go of the gun." Jason looked at him now, slowly shaking his head.
"I'm sorry." He said. "I can't."
Sean looked down at the forty-five still clutched in Jason's right hand. His friend's knuckles were pale with empty veins tracing the top of his hand. He watched his roommate's hand quake slightly, even with the weight of the gun anchoring it on the oak table top, for several long seconds. When Jason did not offer any further explanation Sean tried a more direct route.
"Alright. Then what happened." He said as he pulled out his last two cigarettes. As he lit them both he noticed that his hands were also shaking. He handed a cigarette to Jason.
"I'm telling you, bro..." Jason took a deep drag from the cigarette. "I should be in the pen right now."
Sean nodded toward the forty-five on the table between them.
"Did you use it?" He asked. Jason swallowed with difficulty.
"I knew she was fucking him." He said. "She swore to me she wasn't. But I knew it."
Both friends took long drags from their cigarettes. Sean let the smoke float up in front of his face. Through the smoke he watched his roommate hold in his breath like he did when he smoked a joint. Finally Jason exhaled.
"I saw them walking together down Alder when I was driving home from Perry's party. I don't know what I thought I was going to do. Anyway, I parked behind the mini-mart next to her place. And I let myself in."
Jason took another drag. Sean jumped up and grabbed an ashtray from the bar.
"I climbed into her closet." He said. "And I brought this." He rapped the side of the gun on the table top in a tired clunk... clunk. Sean wondered for the first time if he really wanted to know the rest of the story.
"How long were you in there?" He asked. Jason swung his right arm up and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and Sean instinctively flinched as the barrel of the forty-five passed his face. His roommate didn't seem to notice.
"It seemed like a couple of hours." He said. "After a while they came in together. She left the light off. And I could hear them. I mean, shit. I could really hear them. It was so dark in there. I just sat there, on a pile of her shirts, and listened to every movement, every lick, every smack, every groan, every..." His voice cracked slightly. "every... single..." He was shaking his head now. The gun was trembling in his hand. "every fucking sound." He said.
Sean's chest ached as he watched his friend. He took a last drag and then pinched the butt of his Camel cigarette into the black, plastic ashtray.
"That's some real heavy stuff to deal with, Jay." He said. "I'm sorry, man." Jason nodded. He looked up at Sean for the first time since he had started talking. His eyes were still swollen but the hollow stare was gone. Sean became aware again of the buzz from the walk-in cooler. He turned from his friend's gaze and watched a faint pair of white headlights float from left to right in the fog beyond the windows. His left hand followed the deep grains in the oak table top as he closed his eyes and took a purposeful, deep breath.
"Do you want a beer?" He asked. "I think I'm going to have another beer." Jason shook his head. Sean nodded but didn't move.
"Then what do you want?" He asked.
Jason held the forty-five caliber up between them.
"I want to squeeze this trigger." He said. "I want to empty this whole clip." He said. "I want to stand there in her room and reload the clip and then empty it again."
Sean held his breath.
"Don't worry, I already had the chance and I didn't do it. I just want it to stop hurting. I want to be able to let her go." He said.
Sean exhaled very slowly.
"What stopped you?" He asked.
The two friends stared at each other. Sean did not get another beer. Jason did not say anything. There was only the buzz of the walk-in, the soft glow of Christmas lights and the fog outside.
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Sean looked out the window again. The Christmas lights were gone. The hum of the cooler was gone. They had been left behind and along with the pub had faded with the darkness of the early morning. The flat light of dawn had returned the two friends, with help from Sean's green, '68 Beetle, to a pair of mismatched couches at their house on East Rose. What had remained was the fog. Sean stared at it. There were arbitrary outlines that emerged as hints of what lay hidden in the gray beyond. Tracings of a maple tree, the corner of a house, a telephone pole -- their lines faint, blended into cloudiness. He searched the scene and wondered what answers he might find on this kind of morning.
Jason lay stretched out on the other couch. He had a knit blanket draped across him. His eyes were closed. He was still wearing his hat and from time to time he snored softly. The coffee table between them supported various pieces of evidence. There was a fresh pack of Camels and a glass ashtray with three orange butts planted in the ashes. There was a splintered wooden cutting board with crumbs and a single piece of pepperoni pizza laying cold on it. There were two empty Heineken bottles and one that was still half full. There was the loaded forty-five caliber. And next to the gun, there was a black, leather-bound Bible.
Sean reached down to the table and picked up the gun. He tilted it to the side to make sure the safety latch was on. It seemed heavier. Closing one eye, he pointed the gun at the pool table in the next room. One by one he silently picked off the yellow, four ball and then the white, cue ball too. Sean lowered the gun and looked back to his friend. He watched him for a couple minutes. There was a simple expression of clarity on his face as he slept. Sean wished he could sleep like that. He couldn't remember sleep like that. It was possible, he thought, that he had never slept as soundly as his roommate now did.
Sean picked up his beer and took a drink. When his beer was empty and a fourth cigarette butt had been pinched into the ashtray, and still the fog remained heavy as ever, Sean reached out and carefully laid down the forty-five caliber on the coffee table and reached for the black, leather-bound Bible.
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