Everyone Has a Story

Footfalls tapped against the greying pavement that linked the city skyline together. People moved, twisting and turning like waves carrying me down the street, the block and far as possible to my destination. For early on a cold Saturday night the streets were quiet busy, something I noticed was happening more often these days but mostly not for the right reasons.

Slowly the familiar neon sign came into view making patches of red, blue and green rain down on the people who walked past the old worn wooden door below. As I got closer, the colours lit up my skin and I took a second to watch them swirl with my movement until I came to a stop at the door. Thought the glass I could see the warm glow of lamps lining the walls acting as modern day candles.

I reached out for the door only for it to be open for me. The smell of beer and other liquors flooded out along with what warmth the small pub held. Jack, the owner of said pub, flashed a grin holding the door open as wide as it could go. I stepped over the doorway just as he places a light kiss to my cold cheek.

“Good evening,”

“Evening, right on time as usual.” I greeted.

He winked playfully with a small nod. Jack was good like that; friendly, bright and loyal to the point that he would make sure he would always be there on time to open the door for me. Someone would call him a true gentleman, if they didn’t know the reason behind it. Reasons that only a select few people knew and even then not many of that few knew the full story.

Some memories are meant to be kept hidden, I guess.

I flashed a grin over my shoulder treading around the bar and sliding into the first door of two hiding behind the shelf of alcohol. My long black coat, followed by my scarf found themselves hanged up with others in the small backroom. The room was dull and mostly empty, holding a couple of guitars, spare stage gear and small boxes that couldn’t fit in the stock room. Taking the guitar closest to the door with gentle hands I glanced at the clock. 7:05pm.

Another night, another melody and another dollar.

The maroon walls holding the lamps greeted me as I appeared from behind the shelf again. Though the room was on the small side the black marble looking tables, dark wooden floors that matched the bar and golden picture frames holding pictures just as bright, made the room look bigger; look more welcoming than more places I could name in this city. To most people this was as close thing to home as they had.

I look to my right to see Kal, the barman, leaning against the bar wiping down a shot glass with eyes trained down to his feet. With the door having just opened half an hour ago he wasn’t busy yet with only one person sitting at the bar. It gave Kal too much time to think when it wasn’t busy and I knew he hated that.

It gave him more time to think of the dreams he once had and the chances he never got to have. Some people got lucky and got to live out things others could only daydream about. He was one of the unlucky ones working a job he did like, but still wondering the ‘what ifs’.

The fact William, a regular who was an inspiring writer, was too busy tucked into his notebook to talk wasn’t helping that tonight. Kal glanced up at me when I walked around the bar towards the far side of the room with a small, almost hesitant smile. I waved only letting the guitar go with one hand for just as second. He waved back with a wider smile.

I reached the corner of the room that happened to be my home away from home. A sleek small black shiny piano with a matching bench sat silently next to a small wooden stool behind a microphone.

Music happened to be my job in this pub. I was the one that created the quiet atmosphere, relaxing notes and melodies that made people forget for a while. I gave them a reason to come here other than to drink their swimming thoughts that never quite knew when to sink.

I took my position at the stool, guitar sitting on one thigh and opposite hand resting on the instrument’s neck. Looking around the room I noticed there were only William and a young couple who were sitting in the far corner from me, speaking in whispers to themselves. Not enough to really perform for yet, but enough to play for.

Jack caught my eye standing at the end of the bar. He smiled with a nod showing that he was listening. He always was. Kal glanced up at me as he popped the cap off a new stubby, handing it to William who looked up for a short second too.

Digging for a pick in my jeans pocket, I pulled it out and fixed the mic position to the strings, turning it on. I ran the pick over the strings, plucking the first note out for the night. One of many to come.

By the time nine o’clock hits the pub was hitting the usual amount of customers we receive on average nights during the week. Regulars sat in their usual seats, like they had never left the night before and if I hadn’t have seen the spots empty for myself, I wouldn’t of thought they had.

Kal was working a steady pace at the bar now, enough to keep his mind on what was here instead of there. His smile brightening with every second he forgot until he was dancing along with my music, entertaining anyone who would watch.

Jack bristled about like usual talking to someone here, picking up empty forgotten glasses there. When he wasn’t doing that; he watched as my hands floated across the guitar strings silently cheering me on like it was the first time he’s heard me play again. It made me smile knowing after all this time he still liked it and looked forward to it every evening for the escape only music could bring.

Coming to the end of the last song on guitar, I let my voice trail off as the last note rang out. The room fell in total calm before light clapping echoed. I beamed at the crowd –who was watching at least- as I took a small bow. A sudden whistle cut through the air on my left.

I snapped my head up to I met a pair of eyes I somewhat recognized. I didn’t know the guy’s name, but he was always here at least every second night; by himself and sitting as close to my corner as possible, only leaving when I had finished playing for the night. We had never said more than a few ‘hello, how are you tonight?’ between each other on rear nights so far, but he never failed to cheer, clap and smile for me.

I don’t know a thing about him; just that he was around my age and what he looked like. But he had open eyes like I’ve known him for years. Truth be told, he was the only regular that I didn’t know the story of. His book was as blank as William’s latest novel.

Tilting my head in acknowledgment, I left the stool to place the guitar in its stand behind the piano hidden from the crowd, replacing my empty hands with a small stack of music sheets. Just as I open the piano lid and place the sheets on their stand, Jack appeared besides me, with a glass of water he then placed on the piano top. He left just as quickly without saying anything. I could still feel the guy; no-name, watching me but he watched me play every night so it wasn’t unnerving. Just encouragement.

It was nice when someone watched as well as listened.

“Any requests?” I asked glancing at him as I sat on the black bench, hoping for more than a simple hello on this night.

It surprised me that he never asks for me to play any certain song and just sat there listening to everything that I poured out. Cover or original, he never complained, only applauded.

“The one where you sing about hidden rose petals and how everyone had something to tell,” He said quietly after a beat. “Please? If that’s alright.”

“Of course.”

I nodded turning to face the keys, moving my hands to hover of the ones that started the song he asked for.

“I taking a break for singing, is just the music okay?”

“More than fine.” He replied and though I couldn’t see him, I could hear the smile in his words.

Without a second hesitation, I placed my fingers down and the song began. Louder music than what my guitar made filled the room and I could almost feel the change that happened in the room along with it. I could feel more people watching me in delight as this was what many people were waiting for.

I smiled to myself letting my hand run effortlessly over the keys almost by their own will. Calmness swept through the room and the small amount of conversations I could hear from behind me became lighter and freer; people finding it more comfortable to talk with something else mixing in with it.

They needed the music just as much as I did. That’s its magic.

Song after song poured out into the room until there was nothing left to play for the night from my set. I finally turned away from the keys when I let the last note trail off and looked around the room, where the lamps seem oddly brighter than normal after having my eyes closed for a long time. Jack was still hovering and Kal was still at the bar.

It was half past eleven and only the regulars remained; all silent until I had turned around. Those who watched; smiled, a couple clapped and no-name applauded the loudest. I beamed at him and tilted my head down in a silent thank you.

Though no one needed to thank me for this. It was my job; it’s what I do to help the lost souls that end up in here night after night. I knew that if it wasn’t for the music some people like Anthony –who sat at the dark end of the bar- wouldn’t be here.

Anthony’s story was as same, but different as all the others. He had everything and lost everything in a blink of an eye. One blinding light, one long screech of tyres and everything was gone in an instant. He was the only one that just survived.

Lexis, the girl barely old enough to drink, came here to be alone surrounded by people she didn’t understand but knew of. She came here to forget her story of home and pretend she had something she didn’t. Gwen sat besides her hardly saying a word, wishing the same things. They never really talked, but sat together because it was better than drinking alone.

Anything was better than drinking alone.

Then there was William; a guy that didn’t have much more than his job and the notebook that didn’t leave his sight. He always talks about writing a book to Kal, about something, anything, but never actually doing it. Because writing the book meant he had something and that meant something that could be lost. The thought frightens him, as it does to all of us.

Now, I may not know no-name’s story but he had become part of mine as he sat in that seat almost every night. I didn’t know why, but someone else did, and that was all that really mattered.

I was told once that everyone has a story; no matter how dark or light it was - it was their story. It was them in the rawest form and without them they were nothing. They didn’t exist. Without the stories meant they had no memories, no thoughts and no way of showing that they lived.

We live from stories and stories live from us. Music was just one of the ways that helped tell them.

Turning away from the people in the room, I took my now almost empty glass of water, finishing it off. I left the bench and slowly walked my way weaving through the tables until I reached the bar. Kal smiled and took my glass, dunking it in the sink, before whipping it over with the rag tucked into his jeans pocket.

I heard quiet tapping of footsteps behind me and turned to look just as no-name sat down in one of the empty stools. He tapped the bar singling to Kal for his usual. As Kal grabbed a small glass no-name shot me a small smile.

“So, what are you doing here?”

I smiled at his hidden double meaning and moved to the stool next to his. Kal place his drink down and handed me another glass of ice water. No-name picked his drink up, cradling it while looking at me with open, curious eyes.

“I’m just a girl who likes to play music for those who need it.”