He reaches behind the bar, searches for a moment and finds the bottle opener. He lets the cap fly, arc in the air, and fall on the hardwood floor.
“The key to any relationship,” he begins, his voice sounding unfamiliar to his ear, “whether it is among friends, lovers, family, whoever.” He pauses to swig his beer and look across the empty tables and chairs of the lounge to the couch where his companion, half asleep, peers at him listlessly. The beer tastes musky but so had all the rest. He winces and swallows. “…is that there needs to be one thing…one singular phrase, word, utterance…that could end it all. At any moment. You might be in the middle of an embrace, passionate, alive,” he says and mimics the act weakly, closing his eyes, “and these string of words will end it.” He breaks and cuts his hand across the air wildly, almost losing his balance in the act. He stumbles back into a plush red chair, finds himself satisfied and sets his beer down on the floor beside him.
“It’ll end that and everything after it, everything before it. Which isn’t to say that those words existing is reason enough to say them. No, no, no. God forbid one should ever have to say those words. The point is that they’re there. Idle, ready, waiting,” he slurs and drags his fingers through his long hair, getting caught in knots along the way and pulling them loose.
“You can’t have it be about dependence. You can’t…you can’t have it be unconditional. Conditions. Conditions are what we need. A list of things that one will not stand for, from whoever it’s coming from. And too many people believe,” he stops and turns suddenly in his chair toward the open front door, as if expecting someone. Nothing. Outside a black motorcycle sits parked. “Too many people believe that we live in a world…lived in a world…where the ideal is unconditionality. Where if we are ever to succeed we must have blind trust, blind faith, blind dependence on some…someone.”
His hands lazily search for the beer next to his chair. Not finding it, he stands and walks behind the bar to the ice box, dark and warm.
His companion sits up and stares at him expectantly.
“I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no, I won’t tell you what I know will make you walk out that door.” He points to the door and the empty street beyond. “You’re all I got left. But maybe that’s it? Me saying that? That you’re all I got left? Pity’s as good a reason as any to leave I suppose. Do what you gotta do.”
Jumping down from the couch, his companion waddles on stubby legs over to the bar and behind it, sitting gently at his feet. It lets out a low growl and then begins to pant.
“I don’t have any food, boy. Well I got what we need, and you don’t need it now. Thought whoever owned this place might have left some food back in the pantry, but nah. Nothing. Guess they were in a real hurry after…well no use digging that up again. Curious thing to do though, leaving the beer. You’d think that’d be the first thing they take.”
He steps over his companion and moves toward the balcony that runs the length of the back wall. Beyond it the town spreads over the valley floor. Unmoving, breathless. Flooding with inky shadows from the growing dusk.
“So where to tomorrow? North? East?” He turns around and leans against the balcony. The room is empty.
“Boy?” he says and leans to peer behind the bar. Nothing. He grunts softly and stares down at the floor.
“South then.”
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