It was almost like he gave up on the present after she passed, and I didn't really blame him. They completed each other those two and had been in love since Mom was fourteen, and Dad got drafted to fight in the Vietnam war. Their love withstood everything, bankruptcy, child loss, recessions, hurricanes. Dad didn't want to be here without her, so he retreated into his head. I was okay with it. He'd had a good life, worked hard, loved hard, been a really great dad. So now he could kick back and relax while I did the heavy lifting. At home, we had a part-time nurse to look after him. Her name was Gloria, and they had a funny relationship. She called Dad, "curmudgeon" and he called her "bossy." His greatest joy in life these days was listening to me sing. If he could have had it his way, he'd have me doing full-time karaoke instead of serving the drinks. So I indulged him when I could because it warmed my heart to see him smile. I didn't think I was some virtuoso, but I knew I had pipes. But unfortunately for my dad, open mics didn't pay our bills.
I couldn't complain. I had a good life, too. I'd been able to reimagine the bar and turn it into something new and different. It was a laid-back kind of alternative scene to the usual tourist traps. We didn't do big blue fish bowls filled with gummy fish and blue drink, but we had great music, and that made up for all the gimmicks and cheesy themes that most joints along the bay pandered to.
"I have a good life, Pops. I'm happy with it. I love you. I love Spring. I love this old bar you built."
"You could have had a better one."
"Everyone could have a better one, but as far as lives go, mine's pretty good. I got a
crazy sister, a decent old man, a thriving business, a roof over my head, and food on my table."
"And we got beer," my dad said.
I grabbed a beer and saluted him. "To having a good life, Dad."
"Cheers, my boy. I'll drink to that. The whole rest of your life has just begun."
As the night wore on, more and more locals stumbled into the bar. Some drunk, some just hoping to spot a woman who they could convince to go home with them. My kid sister, Wren, always asked why they didn't just move out, all these lonely men in Spring. But it was all most of them ever knew, and getting out wasn't so easy. Wren escaped, though, as soon as she turned eighteen, she'd run off to New York and started auditioning. Where she got the drive and the gumption, I'd like to think, came from me. She was a successful model now, landing gigs left and right. I'd seen her on TV, in magazines, she'd even done some extra work in film. Wren was our success story, and I was proud of all she'd accomplished. Dad didn't really get it; he might have been too far gone. When I showed Wren to him in the magazine, he was convinced it was Robin, my mom. He told me a story from the picture of when they went to France. I nodded and listened with tears in my eyes, just sad that he couldn't even see Wren's success.
Sometimes my sister got big invites or private passes, and she tried to reel me back into that world. She wanted me to record demos and meet with record execs, but it just wasn't in the cards anymore. Wren couldn't wait to get out of this small town, that seemed to be all she wanted from the moment she could talk, but I didn't feel right leaving my dad alone. I knew he would have never left me behind. So I stayed.
"You better get on that stage tonight, Kiddo," Pop said, his eyes on the large clock on the wall behind the bar. "Break a leg, Son. I think you're gonna win big."
I grabbed my acoustic guitar and walked over to the small makeshift stage with lousy lighting. As I picked up my guitar, I looked to the front door as two women walked in. Both of them were attractive, but the one on the right was breathtaking to me. Beautiful long black hair that looked like it was spun of some sort of silk, but it was her body that really took my breath away. Good lord, that body was heart-attack-inducing. Her curves were the kind I could get lost in for a lifetime. I shook my head, trying to focus on the music, but all I wanted to do was lose myself in her.
I started strumming, and instead of getting wrapped up in the song, all I could do was stare at her. Then I couldn't help but notice all the other men staring at her too. Some days I hated that this town had dried up when it came to single women. Women in this town were like bait. Go out to a bar, and all the men swarmed in a feeding frenzy trying to get a bite. Men just dropped everything and lost their minds the minute a new prospect popped up, even if she was just passing through or not even interested in hooking up. I gritted my teeth as I watched man after man approach her. I forgot the words to the song I was singing even though it was an original. I strummed and started over. Then I slammed my hand down over all six strings. Fuck it! I wasn't any better than all the rest of them. But this girl, I could tell, was looking at me. She wanted to hear the song, and I couldn't deliver because I was too distracted by her beauty.