Monday is for drinking to the seldom seen kid

 

Mike sat at the end of the bar, just like he did after every work day.  The barkeep would shoo away any newcomers that tried to sit there.

He had been coming here for years.  It started easy enough as boy’s night out on Mondays.  At bit of pool with the boys and a few beers.  It was good to keep in touch with the guys from the old neighborhood.

The rest of the time was spent with Donna and Tommy.   They played board games, went to shows, and generally kept each other amused.  But then Tommy grew up as they all do.  He excelled at sports and was always playing or practicing when he wasn’t playing.  Any other time was spent chasing the girls.  Eventually, university happened, and Tommy slipped away.

Mike and Donna struggled to find meaning.  Home life was mostly awkward silences.  So, boys night became two nights, then three, then every day after work.

Two weeks ago, Mike had gotten home and found a suitcase sitting on the front stoop.  Donna had chained all the doors.  She wouldn’t answer the doorbell or her cell phone.

Now he was here nights and weekends.

His cell phone rang.

“Hello Donna.  Yeah I left a message.  I need to get the rest of my stuff.

No, no.  You don’t need to be there.  I can let myself in.

What to you mean you changed the locks?

No.  No.  It’s ok.  It’s alright. Yeah, yeah.  It’s alright.

Just have John and Sarah come over.  You can go for a walk.  I’ll be in and out quickly.

Yeah, I know.  I know.

I won’t take anything from Tommy’s room.  I promise.

I said I promise.”

Just then, someone slammed into Mike from behind.

“Jesus dude!  Pay attention.”

“Fuck you” was the only reply.

“And fuck you too asshole”.

The right cross caught Mike by surprise.  The lights went out.

 

I’ve been working on a cocktail called grounds to divorce

Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Polishing a compass that I hold in my sleeve

Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Down comes him on sticks but then he kicks like a horse

Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

 

There’s a tiny cigarette case

And the rest you can keep

And the rest you can keep

And the rest you can keep

 

There’s a hole in my neighborhood

Down which of late I cannot help but fall

There’s a hole in my neighborhood

Down which of late I cannot help but fall

 

Mike kept a photo in the back of his wallet.  It was the day Tommy got his scholarship.  The coach had stopped by to drop off the letter and shake his hand.

 

Monday is for drinking to the seldom seen kid

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

 

Mike sat at the end of the bar, just like he did after every work day.  The divorce was all but final he just needed to sign the papers.

Somehow, every skank in the bar seemed to know.  They all wanted a piece of him.  Or a piece of his wallet.  Either way, it didn’t matter.  He had no interest.

Mike used his phone to search through the local florists trying to find an arrangement that he could afford, but wasn’t totally tacky.  He finally found a small bouquet of roses.  They were Donna’s favorite color.  He tried very carefully to type in a message for the card without making any mistakes.  His hands weren’t steady.

“Our last anniversary.  I know I need to sign the papers.  But I couldn’t do it until after tomorrow.  I’m sorry for all the pain that I’ve caused you.  Take care.”

 

There’s this whispering of jokers doing flesh by the pound

To a chorus of supposes from the little town whores

There’ll be twisted karaoke at the Aniseed Lounge

 

And I’ll bring you further roses

But it does you no good

And it does me no good

And it does you no good

 

There’s a hole in my neighborhood

Down which of late I cannot help but fall

There’s a hole in my neighborhood

Down which of late I cannot help but fall

There’s a hole in my neighborhood

Down which of late I cannot help but fall

 

Mike walked down the path with an umbrella held up against the rain in his left hand.  His right hand clutched a half-empty flask in his overcoat pocket.

He had walked this path so many times, he imagined he could walk it with his eyes closed.  He paused and turned to look at the stone, cold and unchanging.  His right hand brought out the bottle, and he spun off the cap with his thumb.  The whisky burned as he swallowed.

“Happy 21st birthday Tommy.”

Then he poured one onto the ground.

 

Someday we’ll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

 

Elbow; Grounds to Divorce; 2008