on the fence (leo)

Night was falling when the young woman pushed the door open. They said everybody knew about the Elm Street bar around here. Well, that was not entirely true. Rosemary didn’t, not really. Sure, she had grown up in Bowen, and so knew one thing or two about the most popular places in town. But she had never visited those places herself. First, because when she had turned twenty-one, she was in Sydney. A young literature major student chasing one thrill after another. That was, until that stupid brain of hers started to torment her yet again. Insomnia became her best friend. So did her suicidal thoughts, in some twisted way. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know how either. But one day, she realized she had become a wreck of a human being. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. In the end, she gave everything up. Her college life. Her friends on campus. And most importantly, her life-long dream of becoming a literature teacher. Any plans for the future, utterly broken apart. And so she came back to her old, boring, quiet hometown. And that was why she was here tonight. Out of curiosity for this famously known bar, or so they said. But really, it was the understatement of the year. Hell, of the century. There were only a couple of people here and there, sitting and laughing and drinking and overall having fun. They were the lucky ones, and not only did they not know it, they also took it for granted. The young brunette didn’t want to be bitter tonight, though. God only knew how long she had been spending feeling nothing but bitterness for everyone she met lately, just because they seemed to have it all together. Trying her best to smile naturally, Rosemary went to sit by the counter, before which the bartender was standing. The latter seemed pretty young, but then who was she to judge? “Hey. I’m sure there’s a drink nobody ever orders. I’ll have that, please.” She knew next to nothing to alcohol. She actually almost never drank. Her doctor always told her alcohol and meds weren’t to be mixed together. But just one drink couldn’t hurt, now could it?

Leo got out of her apartment in a hurry that afternoon. For once she had had a decent ‘night’ of sleep and had tried to get herself to do her make-up before starting her shift. She opened herself a beer, ignoring her rumbling stomach, and stumbled in front of her hallway’s mirror, eyeliner in hand. For Christ’s sake! she swore. Her hand was shaking heavily, and the black liquid had smeared all over her eyelids. I’m going to be late. Leo rubbed her eyes together and looked at herself, shrugging. I was meaning to do a smokey eye anyways.
Ignoring her newfound resemblance with a raccoon, she grabbed her purse, slammed the door, and left. It wasn’t too bad of a night in Bowen. Slightly warm but not too humid, and maybe for once Leo wouldn’t end her shift drenched in sweat. The Elm was quiet tonight, it was Thursday after all, and once the regulars had gone back to their wives and children, there weren’t not too many people left.
Leo was in a good mood. Life has been going steady lately, she thought, absent-mindedly rubbing the inside of a glass with an albeit too dirty towel. She had seen the short haired girl around town before. One of the perks of being a bartender is how quickly one starts remembering faces. Details. Leo had always been a detail-oriented person. Details are stable. Details are comforting. Details aren’t as scary as the big picture. So when the brunette sat at the bar, Leo started her usual 'detail-list'. A small frame, girlish figure. Big, sad eyes. Long lashes. Pale, slightly anemic-looking skin. Unsteady stance. Maybe insecure? Scared? No, not that. Tired. Not 'bad night' kind of tired, 'bad life' kind of tired. She was undeniably pretty however. Like a porcelain bird one is so scared so break that it ends up collecting dust on top of a shelf. Maybe they could be friends? Shut up Leo, she thought to herself. You can't befriend everyone you meet. You don't know how to keep friends anyways.
Her request startled the bartender, however, and she let out a laugh. She knew exactly what to give her. She turned around, bent over to the shelf where the almost unused bottles were and started making the drink. Eggnog, spiced rum and cinnamon. She didn’t know why it was the first drink that went through her head. It wasn’t bad, but nobody ever drinks eggnog right? She pushed the drink the the young girl and winked. “Merry Christmas”
But she couldn't really do that to her right? "Honestly, if you don't like it, I can always make ya something else. You don't have to pay for this one." Maybe that was genuine concern, or maybe she wanted an excuse to have the eggnog herself. Who was she to say no to rum?

She didn’t really know what had gotten into her. Well, she knew she didn’t like beer, it tasted like piss to her. Not that she knew what piss tasted like, mind you. The truth was, she just didn’t know what else to order, so part of her kind of figured it would be best to let the bartender decide for her. The other part, however, knew it was pure madness. For all she knew, she would get something even worse than beer. But it was too late to back out now, the girl was already making the drink. No hesitation whatsoever in any of her movements; they were all precise, almost robot-like. Here was someone who was definitely used to this. Someone that wasn’t easily taken aback by weird orders from even weirder girls, in any case. But she assumed it was part of the job. While she waited, she couldn’t keep her eyes off her, even though she knew it was a little bit rude. She could only hope the girl didn’t notice her staring at her. It’s not like she meant anything by it, anyway. A few minutes later, she got her drink in front of her, and wondered if this was some sort of joke. “It looks like a white hot chocolate, but…” She stopped mid-sentence, only realizing she was probably sounding like a ten-year-old. She chuckled, for once not faking it. “What is it?” Alright, she was definitely sounding like a ten-year-old now. But she brushed it aside. It has been too long since she let herself be carefree. Without thinking, she took a gulp. It tasted sweet. And creamy. And, wait, was it cinnamon? “It’s… actually decent. Wow. Sure as hell didn’t expect that. How come it’s so unpopular?”

Leo could feel the brunette's gaze on her. It was something she was used to. People sitting at the bar usually don't have anything anything else to stare at. But her gaze wasn't the usual lustful one of old men, or the judgemental one of well-dressed women. It was a gaze coated in curiosity, as if she was undressing Leo, her movements and her face.
Leo felt almost embarrassed, feeling suddenly like a clumsy child trying to make her parent's proud. The girl's sentence made her chuckle. "It does actually."
She looked at the girl tasting the drink, and let out a smile when she saw she seemed to enjoy it. Win. Wiping a glass, Leo started talking. "It's eggnog. Egg liquor. Sounds way more disgusting than it truly is." It wasn't Leo's drink of choice: she seemed to take a certain sadistic pleasure in drinking hard liquor than left her throat on fire and her gut burning. She had long forgotten to drink things that she actually enjoyed. If there was something to know about her, it was that she fundamentally was unable to make herself happy. She kept going through the motions, without asking herself what she would actually enjoy in life, the result of years of misery that she couldn't shake off her body anymore. But the childish pleasure in the young woman's face actually lit up something inside of her. The simple joy of a nice conversation, the pleasure of finding someone a drink they like, the pride of giving someone else just a few seconds of surprise and happiness. A simple pleasure. "You know, it's usually a Christmas drink, but it's kinda gotten out of fashion. Plus the weather here doesn't really make for a classic snowy Christmas drink." A cloud passed through her eyes. "And you know, most people are with their families during this time of year. So I end up serving drinks to the lonely ones. And they don't usually reach towards eggnog." Leo said, pointing her head at a man nursing his whiskey by a table near the windows. These were the kind of people Leo was used to hang around with.  She hoped her voice didn't betray her. Family was a tough topic to her, reminding her of her inherent loneliness. "If you want to try anything else, I'm your girl." Leo tried diverting the subject as quickly as possible, hoping the girl didn't pick up on her moment of sadness.

Rosemary sure didn’t know what to expect when she decided to order some mystery drink out of curiosity, but she was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t turn out to be the worst decision ever. At any rate, the bartender didn’t sound like she was playing some joke on her. She shrugged and said, “Yeah? Honestly, it’s not too bad.” She took another sip of the eggnog. Yummy. Kinda. For a while, she let herself relax, with her hand cupping her face and her legs dangling under the stool. Now, was she supposed to say something else? Maybe she could order some snack? She really wasn’t used to bars. She was like a virgin. At twenty-two. Ugh. It was about damn time she got out of her comfort zone, for once in her life. When the silence between them was becoming unbearable for the poor girl, the bartender suddenly spoke again. And Rosemary was glad for it. Listening to people? Yup, that she could do. Right up her alley, actually. So she listened, wondering what the woman really was trying to say here. She slightly turned her head towards the guy they were talking about. Lonely, indeed. With only his drink to cheer him up. She sighed, then took another gulp of her drink. “Well, spending Christmas with your family is pretty overrated anyway. I think we should celebrate the holidays however we like.” She made a face. “And drink eggnog all year round. What d'ya think?” Okay, she was talking utter nonsense. Was she beginning to be a little tipsy? With just one drink? Come on. “Thanks, but my doctor told me not to drink too much alcohol. Said it could be dangerous, what with my meds.” She shrugged, pouting.

The look of curiosity on the young woman’s face was truly surprising to Leo. It seemed utterly bizarre to her that the Elm Street could be a foreign place to some people. She spent most of her time here, knew every nook and cranny. Which floorboard creaked and which ones did not. Her clothes were soaked with the smell of liquor, no matter how many times she washed them. To be honest, she had become one with the place. Looking at the young girl face, Leo realized how much she truly had let herself go. She desperately need a haircut, new clothes, and probably a century’s worth of sleep. Nothing she could afford anywhere soon.
Focusing her attention back on her client, Leo could easily notice uncomfortable the girl seemed to feel. Shifting on her seat, she seemed hyper-aware of her surroundings, as an actress not knowing which character she was supposed to act. The complete opposite of Leo’s natural slouch. The girl seemed to drink her every word, no matter how empty Leo’s sentences was. No matter how much she tried, she never felt like she had anything relevant to say. Oh, how she envied smart people. The ones who captivate at the drop of a word, the ones with a glint in their eyes. Each time Leo opened her mouth, it ended up being a stream of nothingness. The girl’s statement made her chuckle. “Honestly, I’m here all year round. And if I have some advice for you, it would be to spend your Christmas anywhere but here”, she said with a laugh. Of course the bar was closed on Christmas, but as the holiday approached, Leo was the main face of the place.  Most of her colleagues were usually travelling to see their families at this time of year. She was the only one with no place else to go. She could be easily become a barstool, and no one would notice. She was a backdrop, an absence more than a presence. “But I mean, if you ever feel like having eggnog, no matter when, you’re welcome here. My pleasure.” Look at her go, all smooth with her clientele. Stop lying to yourself, she thought. She may not be smooth, but she was however quite intuitive, and could tell the notion of alcohol seemed to make the girl uneasy. Another thing they definitely did not have in common. Meds? Leo knew better than to flat out ask. But also, she definitely wanted to ask. So she asked. “What kind of meds?” Fearing that she stepped too far, she tried to make the question seem casual. “You know, this may be a pisspot’s lair, but we still have all the usuals. Tea, coffee, lemonade, juices of all kinds… I even think we have bottles of fancy French sparkling water in the back room.” She said with a wink, hoping she hadn’t crossed a line.