One More for the Road, Julio(Charles E.J. Moulton) One More for the Road, Julio

A short story by Charles E.J. Moulton

***

The sip of Gentleman Jack lingered on Benny's tongue like a beautiful woman on a fur by the fireside. The taste was warm, like a sultry kiss. It dwelled in his mouth like the flavor of a fireside snuggle. The sting of sensual lust. The warmth of a winter blanket. The sunshine on frosty cheeks. The logo on the bottle behind Julio seemed to love him.

The memory ran down Benny's tongue past his larynx like the steamy streams of the waterfall in Venezuela where he had been in the summer. He had layed there on his back, envisioning the weirdly wonderful natural wonder to be a giant's throat, making him feel confident what the giant drank for a living. Whiskey, of course. Why does a man compare a waterfall to an alcoholic drink? Maybe it was his weird imagination. Maybe it was the spicy feel of the scenario, Cassandra riding him on the lawn overlooking the waterfall, wearing his Jack Daniels T--shirt, making him feel intoxicated. Maybe the sex by the waterfall was as strong as the bourbon, her bouncing boobs inspiring him to make the connection. The image of his wife wearing a whiskey shirt made it clear to him that the giant was a bourbon drinker just like he was. Those dark orange flowers on the hillside corners framing the waterfall made it look like alcohol running down a giant's throat. Cassandra acting like Rose Dawson from the Titanic humping Jack Dawson pre-shipwreck or her stallion post-shipwreck, Benny looking through the trees at the rocky hillside, enjoying the view, the sun shining upon the waterfall. It made him understand that this was Eden.

Now he was that giant. A man drinking his whiskey, turning his own throat into a waterfall. He realized the lovers had been in heaven and God had watched singing a love song.
And now, when he had returned to his after-work-bar, all the hopes of two months of South American wonders, from Machu Picchu to the Inca Trail Ruins were blowing in Bob Dylan's wind. Cassandra was back to calling him names for using the wrong washcloth to clean the garden table. And Benny was back to spending after-hours guzzling alcohol with his bar-buddies. The lovemaking hurt. Benny feared divorce.

The rollercoaster of emotions had created a cleft of mental screams. Inability to trust the longevity of bliss resulting in subconscious outbursts of threats. Not being heard. Somewhere in his mind, there was a question, a week for answers.

"Burnout," he muttered to himself, "is a tennis match between bliss and cataclysm. The middle ground of memory between the hurt giant and the lovemaking couple."

The tennis match was being played in this bar across the street from his work that was everything but a natural wonder. A failed search for bliss. A nice place, rustic furniture, red brown counter. Paintings of drunk people and aging chandeliers. Just slightly missing the target.

It was a sorry sight, though, knowing that Cassandra now sent him hate emojis. No more bouncing boobs by the waterfall.

And then Josh looked at him in that despicable shit-eating way, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

Benny remembered the scene with his wife's washcloth at home and the pingpong of comments turning into a war. He loved her, so the battle made it even worse to bear. And the pain was endless.

"You're in hell," Josh said.

Benny smiled. It was strained. "My past is fighting with my future."

"Care to join the present?"

"I just wonder how a blissful past can turn into such a miserable gift."

Josh looked at his buddy disappearing into his bourbon as if Gandalf the Wizard were hidden in there somewhere in time. It was his red-brown wizard oozing fire.

"The now is trying to tell you something."

Benny looked up, a soft cackle on his lips.

Josh nodded, raised his glass and smiled. "It's that inner child that is telling you it needs attention."

The sting of the drink was smooth as an ice-pick and as loving as a female scream, but he liked it nonetheless. Nat King Cole's croon ran in the background. He sang about L being the way she looked at him.

Benny knocked back Sinatra's favorite drink in a gulp. "One more for the road, Julio."

"That is a long road, señor."
The Puerto-Rican barkeeper raised an eyebrow and smiled, eyeing Josh for a bit.

Josh nodded and lay two twenties on the counter. "Four is your lucky number."

Benny winced and slurred. "There is an answer somewhere in there."

"Not in the bourbon, " Julio smirked, handing Benny his lucky number. "His head is spinning."

Benny half-smiled. He sipped his poison. "It soothes the pain."

"But makes the inner child wonder when you will start listening." Julio grabbed a washcloth and cleaned the counter. "The most incredible woman in the world was mine back in San José. Had everything under control. Planned every meal as if her life depended on it. But it was like living under secret surveillance." Julio half-smiled, pouring Josh a free sip of RSVP. "Until I finally got it."

Benny was now interested. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for the punchline, if there was one. "Got what?"

Julio leaned forward, his gaze filled with the dominance Yoda sported in "The Empire Strikes Back". It was the "Don't mess with me"-gaze. Luke had told him he wasn't afraid and Yoda answered: "You will be."

"Amigo," Julio whispered, now having a trifle of Tom Waits under his breath himself, "if someone is constantly frustrated like your wife seems to be, battling a teenage girl, who is a rebel right now like they all are, anyway,  she is frustrated.  She is in pain.  She wants to be heard."

"Am I not listening?"

Julio shrugged. "Are you hearing her speak?"

Josh chimed in. "Socrates wife Xanthippe threw pots off their balcony on him when he came late to dinner one day. She had cooked him good food and he didn't even come over.  How would you feel?"

"Xanthippe threw water on him and laughed in front of the house guests," Benny whispered.

Julio poured a Sex on the Beach for another unnamed local who had joined them to their right. "Try to see it from her perspective." The stranger spoke in a low voice with great care, his elegant appearance giving Benny a feeling this was a CEO.

"Why?" Benny asked.

"The universe is womb, love is feminine, women change history and men benefit from being humble. Mrs. Roosevelt ran the White House and Theo went into history as the greatest president. But had Eleonore not been there, Theo would have spent his life gambling."

Benny looked at his grey suit and bland tie that looked like it had been grabbed away from the On-Sale-pile at Walmart's. "Do I know you?"

"The CEO at the company across the street."

Benny shook his head. He had been right.
"Knew it."

The guy sneered. "I dunno what you're talking about, but I do know that I get to make decisions at work, occasionally, but at home, if I contradict my wife, glory hallelujah, we are reenacting the battle of Waterloo with me as Napoleon. She makes me any dinner I want, though. And Jesus earned his reputation only by being a good soul."

Benny cocked his head, trying to comprehend being the top banana stuck at the bottom of the bunch at home.

Benny knocked back his Jack and stood up. "How much do I owe you?"

Julio shook his head, gesturing at Josh. "Your buddy paid for it."

Benny stood still for a bit, looking as if he was wondering what to say next. "Okay."

He sauntered to the doorway.

"Find God in the uncomfortable."

Josh spoke slowly now.

"You know Hugh Jackman, Benny?"

Benny turned around, the door handle in around his knuckles. "Huh?"

"Kate and Leopold," Josh added, looking over at his the guy he had befriended in 7th grade. "Miramax movie from 2001 about a 19th century aristocrat who time travels to the 21st century and wonders how men have forgotten chivalry."

Benny took a few steps toward the bar. "Battling windmills?"

The CEO laughed. "Benny doesn't get it."

Benny felt as if these three guys had all conspired to kick his ass.

"What do you do for a living, Benny?" Josh inquired, throwing a few peanuts into his mouth for good measure. This conversation was now getting plenty of attention from the couples at the tables. Benny could see that the girlfriends were liking it.

"You know what I do."

"Humor me."

"I run a sound studio over at Wilshire Boulevard. We record mostly AOR and Funk bands."

"Are you successful?"

"I make good money."

"So you have a reason to be confident."

"Yeah."

"Why not at home?"

"Well," Benny thought for a moment. He wanted to say there was a professional him and a private him.

"Would it hurt to be a gentleman?" a husky voice in the corner said.

Benny turned around and saw an aging Afro-American gentleman gently tipping at his laptop. "You saying I am wrong?"

"No, I am saying you should consider humility. That you can't win a war, fighting harsh words with more harsh words."

"Accepting everything?"

The old man laughed. "Life has dealt you these cards. See what you can do with them."

"Buddhist."

The old man shrugged.

There was a slight silence before the old man continued, Benny standing in the middle of the room like a man in court.

"What does your wife do?"

"Run the household."

"Which includes what?"

Benny walked over to the bar again, thinking that if they wanted to get into the nitty-gritty, he might as well go along with it. "Cooking. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing. Drying. Ironing. Making the beds. Dusting off. Our taxes. Organizing our documents. "

Benny waited. Josh could almost see the wheels turn inside his friend's mind.

"And gardening."

"What do you do?"

Benny thought for a moment. "Mix sounds."

One young woman just a few tables away gave off a sound that sounded like a mixture between a horses neigh and a scoff. Benny turned towards her and saw a good looking Chinese girl in a blue dress. The husband was typing something into his iPad, his hand not far away from his beer. The man glanced up at Benny, making sure not to say anything at all.

"So is this a gender thing?"

Benny winced. "What?"

"Well, bro," she spat. "Be happy you are in your sound studio. It don't mean you are less. You are part of a team. Tell her what you want."

Benny had a moment of recognition. He didn't know from where it came. Only that it came, not out of the blue but it was as if he tried to understand instead of complain. Now, Benny had the feeling this was not a court and these were not his jury. This was the gateway to heaven and these were a bunch of angels trying to make him get it.

"She has her own cross to bear, right?" Benny whispered.

In that moment, Cassandra, the woman with the gorgeous hooters, stood there in the doorway of Tab's Downtown Bar, holding the picture of them posing in front of the waterfall after the lovemaking.

"Cassie," Benny said, taken aback.

"How many have you had?" she spat.

"Es una suerte que todavía pueda mantenerse en pie," Julio mused.

"Seven is his lucky number," the girl across the room sang.

"Four," Josh corrected.

Cassandra nodded, wandering up to her husband and caressing his shoulder. It must've been fate that had the swing playlist swoon an old Astaire-tune that pretty much covered what the whole thing was about. At once, Julio, the black man, the couple in the corner, the CEO, Josh, they listened and not only heard the words, but they understood them. They understood that life was an effort to reconcile differences. Turn disharmony into harmony. Make the impossible possible. Why these two fighting people had come to this point in their lives no one knew. Clear was that they had different perspectives and outlooks on life, but that they still tried to make it work.

"Do you love me, Benny?" Cassandra sighed.

Benny nodded. "I just feel as if I am never enough."

Cassandra put her arms around him. "Would I still be married to you if you weren't?"

Benny smiled.

Cassandra pointed toward the speakers. "Fred and Ginger are telling us it's okay to be different."

"Huh?" Benny snapped.

The woman from across the room crooned. "It's a compliment."

"I don't expect you to be me, Benny," Cassandra smooched. "I only expect you be with me."

And Fred sang.

"You say laughter and I say larfter
You say after and I say arfter
Laughter, larfter, after, arfter
Let's call the whole thing off
You like vanilla and I like vanella
You saspiralla and I saspirella
Vanilla, vanella, chocolate, strawberry
Let's call the whole thing off."

And the couple that had screamed at each other earlier this morning now kissed while slow dancing.

Josh nodded at Julio. "I guess four was his lucky number. Give me a glass of Gentleman Jack."

"I will join you."

And the reconciling couple smooched to Ginger Rogers, making everyone present understand that if they made love that day, a new light would shine.

"You know what marriage is, Benny?" Cassandra smiled.

Benny's eyes lit up. "Effort?"

Cassandra nodded. "Trying even though you have a hard time believing you're gonna make it."

Benny sighed, realizing his wife was right.

The light of eternity.

Benny's lucky number. Three. Husband and wife and daughter.

Just like Nat King Cole sang, Benny remembered:

"If you're wondering what I'm asking in return, dear,
You'll be glad to know that my demands are small.
Say it's me that you'll adore
For now and ever more,

That's all...that's all."

For better, for worse, forever.

That's all.

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