Status: Indefinite Hiatus
Where Do I Begin? All I Know Is Gone
Tahi
Raising my eyes towards the barman I lifted my almost empty glass, slightly tipping it towards him, silently asking for another. As he had almost every night I'd been in this pub, Norman, the barman, shook his head with a sly smirk while grabbing another pint glass from beneath the bar. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pull the handle forward, amber liquid flowing gently into the angled glass below. Once the glass was full, with around an inch of head covering the beer, he made the five steps towards me, placing the pint onto the bar mat with a bow. Breathing out a small laugh I smiled up into his kind eyes, earning myself a wink in reply.
I'd come to learn, over the past week of frequenting this particular pub nightly, that Norman liked to have a bit of fun while he worked. He'd joke and laugh with the regulars, flirt with any woman who approached the bar, and his face was rarely without a smile. It earned him quite a few shouted drinks, as well as a pile of numbers since he was a very good-looking young man. I hadn't added my number to that pile just yet, much to the amusement of the group of older men who crowded a leaner in the back every second night.
The group had invited me to join their gathering several times, the first being my third night of patronage. Apparently a young woman, who enjoyed yelling at the sports broadcast over the many screens around the room, should share her philosophies and knowledge with the friendly locals instead of occupying the same stool at the bar each evening.
I wasn't there for company though. I wasn't even really there for the alcohol, just for the affect it had on me. It numbed my mind just enough that the ever present thoughts were quieted and I actually had a chance of sleep. Even though alcohol is a depressant, it made me feel just that little bit better about my newfound situation. It gave me hope that maybe I could get past this, possibly even move on with my life.
Being a Friday night meant that this place was packed. Some had come to celebrate the end of their working week, while others flocked to watch what I call 'soccer' games in a place with some atmosphere (and where they could easily console themselves if it was needed). I came to forget, to distract myself, to be alone without being secluded. Sometimes it was just worse to be alone, at least with other people around there were constant distractions.
It seems that once people find out you have a problem, or if you appear unhappy, they want to make things better. It's just the way humans work. Sure, there are the odd exceptions that really don't give a shit about anyone but themselves, but given the chance, I'd say a good ninety percent of the earth's population would stick their nose in.
I was thankful that this collection of people I'd chosen to surround myself with were considerate enough to realise I wasn't trying to be rude, I just wasn't ready to break down in front of them. That probably sounds bad, like I'm a nut bar or something, but I'm not... I've just had a hard time lately. You try moving to the other side of the world to marry the guy you're madly in love with, only for him to tell you that the engagement is off and the relationship is over as soon as you land. Yea, being dumped in the arrivals area of Dublin Airport, it's not exactly the best welcome present ever.
I guess I could have worked something out with the airlines to be on a plane or four to get home as soon as I could, but that would mean having to tell my family I'd fucked up big time. I'd given up everything for a guy who didn't even care about me. I was, essentially, a failure. No, I couldn't go back. Not yet anyway. I didn't want to hear the 'I told you so', or the 'long distance relationships never work'.
I knew going into the relationship that I'd get my heart broken. I can clearly remember walking down the path at the back of my house one December morning, after hanging out the washing, sending him a text message that said something along the lines of 'I don't wanna fall for u cos I know I'll get hurt'. Maybe I'm psychic, maybe I'm just too pessimistic... who knows. But either way, I picked it, as much as I wish I hadn't.
A voice cut through my reminiscing, accompanied by a tap to my left shoulder, "Cheer up, it can't be that bad." The accent was thick, but understandable. After being in Wales for a week I was slowly starting to pick up what people were saying without having to ask for them to repeat themselves, if they talked slowly enough.
I turned a harsh glare up towards the smiling, dark haired stranger who was now tapping his fingers against the lacquered wood of the bar while waiting for Norman to come over. "You wanna bet?" I challenged him, keeping him in my sight as I swallowed the last of the liquid left in my glass.
His smile faltered a little at my words, but came back even bigger than it had been originally. "So you're not from around here." His voice was cheerful as he made his statement, having ignored my aggressive tone.
"Gee, what gave me away?" That smile of his was becoming addictive, and I felt the corners of my mouth turning up against my will while I rolled my eyes in mock annoyance. It does get slightly irritating having people constantly ask where you're from all the time, even though I'm extremely proud of being a Kiwi.
"You didn't tell me to piss off," he laughed as Norman finally made his way to us. After relaying his order of five pints of Guinness to the barman he turned back to me and extended a hand for me to shake. "I'm Jay, by the way," he introduced while I reciprocated his gesture.
I found myself showing a true smile as his warm brown eyes connected with my greenish ones, thinking maybe talking to someone wouldn't be so bad since my self-imposed solitude didn't seem to be making much of a difference. "Justice. It's nice to meet you."
I'd come to learn, over the past week of frequenting this particular pub nightly, that Norman liked to have a bit of fun while he worked. He'd joke and laugh with the regulars, flirt with any woman who approached the bar, and his face was rarely without a smile. It earned him quite a few shouted drinks, as well as a pile of numbers since he was a very good-looking young man. I hadn't added my number to that pile just yet, much to the amusement of the group of older men who crowded a leaner in the back every second night.
The group had invited me to join their gathering several times, the first being my third night of patronage. Apparently a young woman, who enjoyed yelling at the sports broadcast over the many screens around the room, should share her philosophies and knowledge with the friendly locals instead of occupying the same stool at the bar each evening.
I wasn't there for company though. I wasn't even really there for the alcohol, just for the affect it had on me. It numbed my mind just enough that the ever present thoughts were quieted and I actually had a chance of sleep. Even though alcohol is a depressant, it made me feel just that little bit better about my newfound situation. It gave me hope that maybe I could get past this, possibly even move on with my life.
Being a Friday night meant that this place was packed. Some had come to celebrate the end of their working week, while others flocked to watch what I call 'soccer' games in a place with some atmosphere (and where they could easily console themselves if it was needed). I came to forget, to distract myself, to be alone without being secluded. Sometimes it was just worse to be alone, at least with other people around there were constant distractions.
It seems that once people find out you have a problem, or if you appear unhappy, they want to make things better. It's just the way humans work. Sure, there are the odd exceptions that really don't give a shit about anyone but themselves, but given the chance, I'd say a good ninety percent of the earth's population would stick their nose in.
I was thankful that this collection of people I'd chosen to surround myself with were considerate enough to realise I wasn't trying to be rude, I just wasn't ready to break down in front of them. That probably sounds bad, like I'm a nut bar or something, but I'm not... I've just had a hard time lately. You try moving to the other side of the world to marry the guy you're madly in love with, only for him to tell you that the engagement is off and the relationship is over as soon as you land. Yea, being dumped in the arrivals area of Dublin Airport, it's not exactly the best welcome present ever.
I guess I could have worked something out with the airlines to be on a plane or four to get home as soon as I could, but that would mean having to tell my family I'd fucked up big time. I'd given up everything for a guy who didn't even care about me. I was, essentially, a failure. No, I couldn't go back. Not yet anyway. I didn't want to hear the 'I told you so', or the 'long distance relationships never work'.
I knew going into the relationship that I'd get my heart broken. I can clearly remember walking down the path at the back of my house one December morning, after hanging out the washing, sending him a text message that said something along the lines of 'I don't wanna fall for u cos I know I'll get hurt'. Maybe I'm psychic, maybe I'm just too pessimistic... who knows. But either way, I picked it, as much as I wish I hadn't.
A voice cut through my reminiscing, accompanied by a tap to my left shoulder, "Cheer up, it can't be that bad." The accent was thick, but understandable. After being in Wales for a week I was slowly starting to pick up what people were saying without having to ask for them to repeat themselves, if they talked slowly enough.
I turned a harsh glare up towards the smiling, dark haired stranger who was now tapping his fingers against the lacquered wood of the bar while waiting for Norman to come over. "You wanna bet?" I challenged him, keeping him in my sight as I swallowed the last of the liquid left in my glass.
His smile faltered a little at my words, but came back even bigger than it had been originally. "So you're not from around here." His voice was cheerful as he made his statement, having ignored my aggressive tone.
"Gee, what gave me away?" That smile of his was becoming addictive, and I felt the corners of my mouth turning up against my will while I rolled my eyes in mock annoyance. It does get slightly irritating having people constantly ask where you're from all the time, even though I'm extremely proud of being a Kiwi.
"You didn't tell me to piss off," he laughed as Norman finally made his way to us. After relaying his order of five pints of Guinness to the barman he turned back to me and extended a hand for me to shake. "I'm Jay, by the way," he introduced while I reciprocated his gesture.
I found myself showing a true smile as his warm brown eyes connected with my greenish ones, thinking maybe talking to someone wouldn't be so bad since my self-imposed solitude didn't seem to be making much of a difference. "Justice. It's nice to meet you."