Roadhouse Blues

The Doors’ Roadhouse Blues plays in the background as Jake sits on a bar stool, wearing a full sleeved black t-shirt, nervously shaking his leg and anxiously checking the time. The bartender is obsessively wiping the glasses and keeps glancing at Jake.  Jake’s eyes keep switching between the door and his watch, as if expecting someone to walk in. It is 9:07 P.M. A few men stand around an old juke box, hitting it to try and make the song change, blocking the way for people trying to enter the dingy bathrooms. A loud crash is heard as an old record falls and bounces onto the dirty floor and the bartender swears and runs over.

“Come on, come on, you’re late,” whispers Jake to himself. “You should’ve been here already, Matt. Where are you?”

Jake sat on the stool, his right leg shaking violently as he rubbed his left arm, a drop of sweat dangling on an eyelash. His face was drawn in and tensed, as if he was in great pain, white as a winter morning. He glanced again at his watch, clutching it tight in his hands, as if afraid to let go. 9:13. He stared at his phone, about to click on the green button when he glanced up at the door. His leg suddenly stopped shaking.

“Matt! Oh my God, you are Matt, aren’t you?” exclaimed Jake. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show up, old man. I have been waiting here for hours, I think. Why did you take so long?”

Matt whispers to Jake, his eyes staring intently at a bottle of Jack Daniels’, “Shhh. Be quiet. Don’t want the whole world to know I’m here, do you? So, how does this work, exactly? Old Ben didn’t tell me much, the old fart.”

“Don’t whisper. It’ll seem odd. Are you new at this? No wonder you took so long. I told Ben I didn’t like the new guys but he won’t listen to me,” scowled Jake. “Now I’ll have to sit and train you just to not get caught by the police. So tell me, where is it?”

“Where’s wha... Oh. It’s here, in my pocket. Right inside,” whispered back Matt.

“I said no whispering!” snapped Jake. “Now call Jones and ask him for a drink and make up some small talk, and pretend you just met me. Did you understand that?”

“Umm.....” Matt seemed uncomfortable at some thought.

“What?” said Jake, rubbing his left arm.

“I’m nine months sober. Bin tryin’ to get rid of the old stuff. It kills you, you know? Just kills you.” Matt heaved a sigh and asked the bartender for a glass of water.

“So what’re you doing here, selling me tar?”

“I need the money, boy. It’s all about the money. My wife, my kid, the US government. That’s all anyone cares about; money. Money is running people, son.” Matt sighed heavily, crossing his arms on the bar. 

“People have forgotten everything else; love, happiness, kindness. It’s all about money these days.”

“If you want money, why don’t you get a job? Work for your living. You really want to risk getting thrown in jail for a few bucks?”

“You’re telling me that? What you’re doing, this will kill you. Jail will last two years, maybe five. This stuff, though, this stuff kills you boy. So why do you do it, eh?”

Jake remained silent. Sweat trickled down his neck, and his right leg began its rhythm again. Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down, shaking like a leaf.

“Don’t do it. Control yourself. Think of everything in the world you’re missing,” Matt said, leaning in towards Jake, softly stroking his beard. “Think of what your life could be. Don’t do it. Believe me. It will be the best thing in the world to you.”

Jake snarls at him, “What do you know? What do you know about any of this? You don’t know anything about me, so don’t try to lecture me. Just give me what you came here for and then leave me alone.”

“Son. I’m telling you again. Don’t do it. I used to. I didn’t do tar, but I did the old poison. Alcohol, it kills you. It slowly kills you till you feel nothing inside but euphoric... numbness,” said Matt, his eyes growing soft and dreamy. “It feels good, oh how it feels good. What a feeling, to be numb and to feel nothing inside, absolutely nothing. And you drink and drink, one drink after another, bourbon after bourbon. You feel like there’s nothing wrong in the world. You feel like you can do anything; build a Taj Mahal in a day, become the president. You feel strong, you feel powerful; you feel happy. And you go on, drowning yourself in that feeling, day after day. First it’s one glass a day. Then it becomes two, and then three. You promise yourself, this is it, no more. But slowly, yes, slowly it becomes a monster, becoming bigger and bigger. Three become six, and the six just disappears into ten. Next thing you know, you’re drunk. You’re drunk all the time.”

 Jake watches, sitting perfectly still, as Matt’s eyes become glazed and he appears to disappear into another world, and he continues. “You’re drunk in the morning, you’re drunk at work. You can’t walk straight; hell, you can’t even put your own food in your mouth. Then you say things. You say things you regret. Bad things. And the next thing you know, they come and they take your baby away. Your baby!”

Matt coughed in a sob, “They took my baby away, son, and they said I could never see him again. And I was so drunk,” a tear trickles down Matt’s cheek, “I was so drunk, I didn’t even fight. I just sat and watched as they took away my Charlie. There were three of them. They were big, powerful, dressed up in their suits and ties. They said I couldn’t take care of him, and sent him away to another family. I watched as they took my life away, and didn’t even realise it! I decided that day. This was it. That poison had killed me alive, and I wouldn’t let it control my life anymore.”

Matt paused to breathe, hastily wiping the tears away, and continued in a tone as sad as one could only imagine, “And here I am, Jake, without a job, without any money and without my son. Here I am, nine months sober, trying to make some money and prove I can be a father for my son. And here I am, telling you not to make the same mistake I did. You look like a smart kid, you do. Don’t waste your life away. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t do it. You can walk away right now.”

Jake stared at Matt, eyes wide open. He stared at Matt, blinking his eyes slowly, blinking away the tears. “I... (his voice trembled) I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise, I just... I’m so sorry.” He stared away in horror.

Matt looked at him with kind eyes, patting him on his left arm, and Jake suddenly winced and sucked in his breath. Matt slowly looked at Jake’s arms, and then back at his face with sad, knowing eyes.

“Listen to what I said Jake. You have a choice. Your life has just started. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Walk away,” Matt tried to convince Jake, holding his hand.

Jake stared at Matt’s face. His eyes were stormy as a thousand questions races through his head. Sweat dripped down his face, falling on his shaking leg. His leg shook, up, down, up, down, up... He stood up, slowly dragging his hand away from Matt’s, and buried his head in hands.

“Please. Please just give it to me. I can’t. I’m sorry,” whispered Jake. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t. Please. Please just give it to me. Please. I’m sorry. I can’t do it. Just GIVE IT!”

P.S. This was another assignment for my English class :) Written exactly one year ago.