"will you take my advice",
the barman demanded from the man in black.
"aye" replied the drunkard in a voice mirroring the vast indifference in his soul.
he was old, yet not too old to cure his condition. his eyes were young and blue and despite the wrinkles around his eyes he still looked fresh-faced but for the desperation, covered by a shade of dullness, showing in his bright blue eyes.
"i've seen them come and i've seen them go", the barman set off, "regular guests like you, that is."
the drunkard moved his head from side to side.
"and honest to god", continued the barman, "i was more than glad whenever one of them didn't show up here anymore. it makes me believe they have found something else to live for. it makes me believe we are not lost, even though we are. chances are they just deceased, you know? i know that. i know they might not have found a way out, that their lives just ended, just like this. but the fact that i don't know what happened to them gives me a weird confidence, a trust in the ways of life which i sometimes miss. for a week or so, i feel relieved."
"i see", nodded the regular guest in agreement. he did not intend to interrupt the bartender's lament. he had listened to a lot of bartenders' rapports in his life, he'd seen them come and he'd seen them go. it made him feel like some kind of real-life psychiatrist, a kind of therapist visiting people at their workplace, to make them feel more comfortable about the therapy sessions.
and he got paid in pints.
“what I’m trying to let you know”, and the barman’s voice rose to emphasize the importance of the following
“if I were not to see you here tomorrow I’d be more than glad. If you stayed away till next Monday, you would make my week. And if you left this place behind for good, you would contribute a great deal to what they call salvation”
the customer was thoroughly startled after these words had been uttered, picked up his raincoat, reached into his pockets to produce a few loose coins and throw them on the counter, then looked up to meet the bartender’s gaze. “I may have had enough,” he nodded with a smile, “so long!”
And as he closed the wooden door behind him it finally and suddenly occurred to him why men tended to travel from bar to bar every night, and sometimes from town to town, too, when they were looking for new public spots to spend the more vicious parts of their nights, always on the run, never even semi- settling down to a pub they could fondly call “their own”.
It was not for the sake of adventure or in order to share their sad stories with another patient listener.
It was just to save the bartenders from shame.
And he thought this a rather noble cause while he buttoned up his coat and decided to get on a bus.
