Chapter 1
We create own demons. Who said that? What does that even mean? Doesn’t matter. I said it ‘cause he said it so now he was famous and that’s basically got said by two well-known guys. I don’t, uh, I’m going to start again, way back at the very beginning, before I even knew it had begun….
Bethany heaved the heavy crates of beers from the cellar to the backroom of the bar. Her legs ached and her back was sore. She was sure that she was far more dishevelled that she would have like to be. The price she paid for pulling double shifts six days in a row. She only had another eight hours to go. Oh, the American dream! She quickly tidied her hair in the mirror above the sink in the backroom and went up front to man the bar.
Even though it was early the bar was already filling. It wasn’t a fancy place, your shoes regularly stuck to the bare wood floor and it had its fair share of fights but the beer was cheap and plentiful so the customers loved it. Hogan's wasn’t a bad place to work either. Sure the pay sucked but the staff were fun and the boss pretty much left you to your own devices so long as everything got done. Plus he was one of the only people willing to offer Beth a job when shed first moved to New York. She’d worked for a short stint in a pub back home in England so at least she had some familiarity behind the stick as it were.
Claire, one of the other servers was stood taking glasses out of the dishwasher and stacking them behind the bar.
“Oh, good you're done! She exclaimed. “He’s probably going to want serving soon and I can't handle that with a smile!” Claire was friendly when you got to know her, but she liked to keep people at arm's length. The ‘he’ she was referring to was currently sat at the end of the bar nursing yet another whiskey. Beth was almost sure he was homeless. He’d been a fixture for the last four days. Here before Beth started her double and only leaving when they closed. He’d looked like he hadn’t showered in a month four days ago and he hadn’t changed his clothes or bathed since. A fact you could smell just by being near him. Normally homeless people weren’t generally allowed in bars (not enough custom to be worth the hassle) but this guy ordered drinks all day and all night. Always paid cash, often with fifties, was polite and well-spoken and even left tips. It was all at odds to his appearance. Unlike most of their depressed customers, he didn’t come to the bar to chat. He just sat hour after hour nursing his drink. Beth wasn’t entirely sure that he actually had a liver though. In fact, after watching what he put away each day she was amazed he was still alive. Almost as if he sensed her thinking about him he looked up ad lifted his glass to indicate that he did indeed need a refill. Beth pasted her best ‘customers are my world’ smile on her face and walked over.
“Another double?” she asked and was rewarded with a curt nod. Taking a fresh glass, she filled it with a generous double shot and slid it across to him. He tossed a crumpled bill pulled from the pocket of his grubby grey hoodie and held one figure up in the universal ‘wait’ gesture while he drained the glass in one go.
“No change, just a refill” His voice held the gravelly deepness of vocal cords long deprived of water. She leaned over and poured another decent slug straight into the glass in front of him. He nodded his approval and then sat staring blankly at the now filled glass. The way he sat, shoulders slumped, hunched over, he looked like he had the weight of the world on his back. She watched as he ran his hand through the dishevelled hair poking out of the front of his hood.
“You local?” She asked trying to spark up some conversation. He jerked his head in her direction looking surprised that someone had spoken to him.
“Yes and no” he paused for a moment “No not really.” His accent didn’t have the Manhattan drawl that she was used to but she hadn’t been in the US long enough to place where it was from. He’d gone back to staring at the contents he was sloshing around his glass. She opened her mouth to him again but was called away by another customer. The rest of the night passed in a blur of activity and Beth didn’t have a chance to give the stranger a second thought.
Walking home at 3 am was always one of Beth’s favourite times. The city wasn’t asleep, not by a long means, but after the bustle of the day, it was a chance to enjoy some space and peace. Seeing people was not unusual so at first, she didn’t pay any attention to the figure stood on the bridge watching the traffic pass by underneath. If it wasn’t for his slightly off stance she probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance. He was stood on the tips of toes leaning forwards, but instead of leaning on his elbows like most people would he had his arms out to the side, palms flat on the edge of the bridge. Nothing was overtly wrong but something felt…off. As she walked closer the dark grey hoodie and the tuft of dark hair poking out front started to look familiar too. It should, she’d been serving it non-stop whiskey for the past four days! She approached him cautiously not wanting to startle him.
“Hey,” she said softly. He didn’t respond. “Fancy meeting you here of all places”. He slowly turned his head to look at her. If she’d had the impression that he looked awful in the bar it was nothing to the pain etched so clearly in his face, showing even through the tangle of overgrown facial hair. It was only there for second before being quickly hidden, an automatic response like a crab scurrying for safely back under a rock, but it was strong enough to leave her feeling unnerved.
“Hmm” he responded turning his face back to the road.
Is everything ok?”
“Peachy” he didn’t even glance at her this time.
“See you tomorrow?” she inquired.
“Maybe..” His speech was slurred from the alcohol but it also sounded tired, so very tired in a bone-deep-to-the-core-of-my-existence kinda way.
“Oookayy, I guess I’ll see you then….” She started to walk past him, slowed down and then stopped, turning back to look at him. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly why but every internal alarm bell she had was ringing. She wasn’t sure if it was the dead look in his eyes or something else but deep in her gut, she knew that walking away was not the right thing to do. She ran the options through her head. There were alcohol support groups and homeless shelters that she knew of but none at this time of night. Unless he was directly threatening himself or someone else none of the emergency numbers she knew would be any help. Maybe she could get him some kind of help tomorrow, but that was still many hours away. She shook her head. She knew what she was thinking was equally a bad idea and could almost hear her mum’s lectures about axe murderers running through her ears. She sighed a little and looked back at him. It needed to be done if she was ever going to live with herself.
“Walk with me?” she said to him. He glanced jerkily at her, confusion written all over his face. She held her arm out for him to take.
“Naw….I’m….” he faded off swaying slightly as the effort of formulating a response had taken concentration away from staying upright. She gently looped her arm through his and started leading him away from the edge of the bridge. He looked at her and then looked back at the railings and back at her, eyes struggling to focus. He mumbled an unintelligible sound that she took as ‘what the hell’ and started a slow sway/shuffle next to her.
It didn't take too long for the shuffle to turn into a full-on lean as Beth half walked, half carried him for the rest of the way home. She’d never quite appreciated just how far her short walk home was. After what felt like an age they finally stumbled into her building lobby. Navigating him over to the lift her heart fell as she saw the sign taped to the door. ‘Elevator out of order’. She eyed the staircase weighing up five floors versus abandoning him in the lobby. She sighed, mentally chiding herself for even thinking it as she started hoisting him towards the stairwell. At floor three she almost wished she had left him as he threw up all over himself. By the time they reached her door, she was sore, sweaty and desperately in need of a change of clothes. Some quick fumbling with her keys and they were inside. She manoeuvred him onto a chair at the table just inside the door and took her shoes and now filthy jacket off. The smell of unwashed drunk was permeating the apartment. She went to the bathroom and started running hot water into the tub. She came back to the kitchen to find him slumped over, head pillowed on his arms settling comfortably on the table.
“Come on you.” She said manhandling him to his feet. “Time to clean up!” He was semi-aware by the time she got him in the bathroom and seemed to understand putting his clothes next to the door. A few moments after leaving she heard the sloosh of bathwater indicating that he had got in. She carefully retrieved his vomit soaked clothes from the door opening, thanking every laundry god there was that she lived in a building with a laundry room in the basement. She briefly considered putting his clothes in for a boil wash before deciding that a prewash with extra detergent was less likely to ruin them. She returned to her apartment and dug out some baggy grey track pants and an oversized white teeshirt and knocked gingerly on the bathroom door. No Reply.
“Great.” She muttered to herself. She pushed the door open. “Hey, everything ok?” Her enquiry was met by soft snores. She looked across at him and huffed perfect! He was passed out cold, naked in the bathtub. Beth shook him by his shoulder trying to rouse him but to no avail. She stood with her hands on her hips surveying the situation.
“Well, this is what you get for bringing strays home Bethany.” She scolded herself. Rolling her sleeves up she took the loofah and quickly scrubbed most of the dirt off and shampooed the greasy hair, pulling the plug to drain the water. He was still out cold, and there was no waking him. Hauling his wet, naked, slippery body out of the bath was much more awkward than she ever wanted to remember and dressing him was like dressing the worlds most unhelpful toddler! Eventually, she had him settled on the sofa with a blanket draped over him. A moments assessment made her turn him on his side and place a bucket underneath where his head was, just in case. A quick shower herself and it was finally time for this day to end. She did make the small concession to her mum’s advice and clicked the lock on her bedroom door…..you know…..just in case…