McMurphy’s Bar and Tavern
Approximately 0030
The Naval officer in summer whites balanced precariously on his unsteady six at the bar. The hand holding a glass in front of his face performed erratic circles as the rim attempted to relocate his lips. He was achieving a level of perfection in his quest for total inebriation that even he doubted was possible earlier in the evening.
Somewhere in the alcohol soaked cells of his brain he recalled storming into the bar around 2115, slapping a $100 bill on the counter, followed by a twenty for cab fare, and another twenty for a tip. He had instructed the bartender not to stop filling his glass with his favorite bourbon until the hundred was gone, then to put him in a cab and send him home.
‘Home such as it is,’ he snorted to himself. Now, it seemed more likely, even through his drunken haze, that he would wind up either in the Navy Yard brig, or the hospital with alcohol poisoning. He found that it really didn’t matter, both appealed to his complete despair, anything would be better than the empty apartment.
He barely noticed the well-worn blonde who slipped into the seat beside him. Neither of them noticed the pretty brunette with golden brown eyes who slipped into the seat on his other side. The blonde didn’t know her, and Harmon Rabb was too far gone to feel her presence.
The bartender noticed and handed her a soda with lime.
“Hi sailor,” the blonde started in her patented routine. “Looking for a little fun?”
Harm turned with all the carefulness of a total drunk who knows a quick movement would unbalance him, and looked at her with sad drooping eyes.
“Nuhunh,” he mumbled then reached over very carefully to kiss her lightly on the cheek. Extremely proud of the accomplishment, he snickered at his unsteadiness, “Thanks anyway, ‘preciate the offer.”
“You sure? You look awful sad, I could cheer you up.” She tried again. She was being unusually altruistic. Generally, she didn’t give a rat’s backside about anyone who turned her down. But there was something about this one.
“Nope,” he slurred, “can’t, ‘cause I love her. Never be cheerful again, never be anything good. Never, never, never.” He shook his head with an energy that sloshed his drink over the edge of the glass and threatened to send him sprawling on the floor. The bartender reached over, wiped up the mess and refilled his glass. The blonde steadied him with an arm around his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Harm said hazily, taking another huge gulp of the fiery liquid.
“Wanna talk about it?” the blonde tried again, half kicking herself for wasting the time. “I’m a good listener, maybe I can help.”
“Doesn’t matter, she’s gone,” he replied abstractly. “Gone forever,” he sniffled.
“She? Is that why you don’t want to have some fun with me?” The blonde asked.
“Yep, can’t do that, love her like crazy, but she’s gone, they’re both gone.” His tone of despair was heart rending.
“Sailor I know you’re having a little problem, but you aren’t making sense,” the blonde replied with exaggerated patience. “Who’s both gone?”
“She…. my wife… and the baby,” his voice caught for a minute.
“You have a baby?” It actually came out more as a statement than a question.
“Not yet, its still uuhhmm….still inside,” after another huge sip and a refill his brain was functioning on a very simple level.
“Oh! She’s pregnant?” the blond asked, understanding now.
“Yeah,” Harm grinned widely, “tha’s righ’ pre’nant. Mine too. I did it, weeelll, she helped,” he snorted a giggle. “You know,” he blushed as he tried not to explain the birds and bees to a hooker.
“Yeah sailor, I know,” she looked wistful
“So why did she go? I mean…Did she uh…did something happen?” somehow business didn’t seem as important as this one sailors’ story right now, and she settled down to listen. If nothing else, it felt good to sit next to a man this good looking.
“No nuthin’ she left, packed her bag and left,” he shrugged elaborately. “Had a fight, nasty, horrible, terrible fight” he struggled to bring the glass to his lips again. After another large mouthful he sniveled some more, “Said terrible things, me too, love her so much.”
“What about? If you love her that much it couldn’t be that serious,” curiosity overcame every other instinct in this woman’s mind.
Harm frowned, concentrating as only the totally intoxicated can. “Dunno” he moved his shoulders again. “Not sure, but it was bad. Very, very bad. She left. Never coming back,” he shook his head negatively, and started to cry now.
‘Oh boy,” thought the blonde. “Ok flyboy, if you had a fight, you must know what it’s about.” She should know better than to try logic on a drunk.
“Don’t,” he whimpered. “Please.”
“Don’t what,” she puzzled.
“Call me that, she calls me that. No one can ever call me that again.” Then his brain went in a different direction. “Why did we fight?” he seemed to be asking the blonde. “God I love her so much. Why do people who love each other fight?” he asked with a sudden spark of clarity.
“Did you tell her?” she asked straightforwardly.
“Tell her what?” he looked as startled as his bourbon soaked brain would allow.
“Tell her you love her,” she explained in small words, with elaborate patience.
“Course I tol’ her,” he answered indignantly.
“When?” she pursued.
“Whadaya mean when?” he was fighting from a corner now.
“When? When was the last time you told her? Have you told her lately?” she pinned him.
“Course I did,” he squinted, in exaggerated concentration. “I think… uh that is… maybe the other day… I think… or last week.” His mind couldn’t bend to the task of the problem.
“Sailor, that will not do,” the blonde scolded. “The woman’s pregnant with your child; you need to tell her a lot. What are you, nuts?” She was near the end of her patience with his density.
Harm hung his head. “She’s been so angry lately, she didn’t say it either,” he explained defensively.
The hooker gave a heavy sigh, her slightly oversized chest heaving in frustration, what the hell was she doing here anyway.
“Maybe not, and maybe she should too. But that doesn’t excuse you, and put that drink down now,” she ordered as he tried for another sip. He obeyed, as he was accustomed to obeying direct orders.
“Now here’s what you’re going to do,” she took both his hands. “You’re going to go home, sober up, and find her. Then you’re going to tell her you love her. Every time you feel it, it’s going to come out of your mouth,” she ordered. “Do you understand?”
Harm nodded soddenly, “Yes ma’am,” he was tempted to snap to, but there was no way his muscles would co-operate.
“You do still love her right?” she clarified.
“Right,” he asserted, his enunciation sloppy.
“Then say so,” she instructed in frustration.
“Where?” he asked distractedly.
“Where what?” good grief now what, she thought.
“Where do I find her,” he asked, as though his brain cells had taken a vacation
“Now how the devil would I know that? You should know where she is. You’re the one who loves her,” she blew in total frustration. She feared any form of reason was totally lost on this poor devil.
Harm stopped for a minute squeezing his eyes tight and turning his thoughts inward.
Suddenly she saw his frame stiffen in a way she would not have thought possible for his state of inebriation.
Slowly, very slowly, he tuned in his chair, and looked into the sad damp eyes of the woman he loved.
“Mac,” he breathed. “Oh god, Mac, you’re here.” he would have thrown his arms around her, but his motor skills where completely shot at this point. He was barely remaining upright.
“C’mon, flyboy. Let’s get you home,” she slipped off the stool and tucked her shoulder under his arm.
“No Mac, you can’t. I don’t want you to see me like this. You shouldn’t have to deal with it.” His mind cleared with an adrenalin rush, embarrassed and frightened of all the stories she’d told of her drunken father.
“You’re right I shouldn’t,” she replied, “but I’ll tell you what. You let me help you this time, and I promise never to do anything to make you feel this way ever again, if you promise never to do it again. Deal?”
Unable to follow that thread of logic, Harm shook his head trying to clear it. He finally accepted. “Deal, but only this time,” he agreed.
“Here let me help,” the blonde said, slipping against his other side.
“Thanks,” Mac smiled across at her.
“Y’ welcome,” she answered sheepishly. Embarrassed to be noticed by this woman.
They struggled Harm outside, his coordination barely functional, barely sufficient to support the weight of his two hundred and twenty pound frame. They almost made it to the car when he started to slide to the ground. They steered him to the curb and sat him down. Hopefully the summer whites would be salvageable, but that was the least of Mac’s worries at the moment.
Turning to the blonde woman, Mac made a swift request that sent her charging back into the bar. Returning a minute later, she handed Mac a glass and some money. “His change from Murph,” she shrugged. Mac nodded and pocketed the bills.
“Here Harm, drink this quickly, the whole thing at once, it will make you feel better,” Mac relied on his trust and state of mental incapacity for obedience.
Unwary, Harm did as he was told, and immediately lost the contents of his stomach down the storm drain.
“Warm water and raw egg whites huh?” the blonde said laconically.
“I had to get it out of his stomach before it all got into his bloodstream. He’s going to be one sick puppy as it is.” Mac excused the extreme action.
When Harm stopped retching, he crawled to his feet and faced the Mac unsteadily. “That was a dirty rotten trick, Marine” he declared, as hotly as the remaining drink in him would allow.
“Yeah,” she smiled at him, “and it worked too. Now let’s get you home, you need a cold shower and a warm bed. I just hope you don’t wind up in Bethesda. I’d hate to explain that to our CO,” she shook her head ruefully.
Once again, the blonde voluntarily helped Mac get Harm to the SUV. After tucking him in and strapping the belt tight, Mac turned to the other woman.
“Thank you for your help,” she said sincerely. “Here’s my card. If you…that is, if you think you’d like to try another line of work I have friends who can help. You have a good heart.”
The woman’s features cleared slightly. Uncertain if she could ever do anything else at this point, she also understood the workings of fate. Maybe this was a good night for her too.
Climbing into the front seat, Mac reached over and kissed his cheek.
“I love you Harm, I’m sorry we fought,” she offered.
“I love you too Mac, me too,” he murmured.
As she started the car and turned for home, she picked up the cell and called Sturgis. He’d be waiting to help.
End