When I came back into work later that day Frankie asked if I had found out Jack Daniels’ real name. I replied honestly saying no, but then I lied saying he had given me an address to send him home to if he passed out again.
I held my breath for most of the night waiting for him to come in. I wondered for a while if he would now that he had bared so much to me earlier that day. Some part of me sighed in relief when I saw him come through that door just after eight o’clock though.
“He’s back,” Frankie pointed out.
“I know,” I answered, trying to appear as if I didn’t care.
“Did you find out what his story is yet?”
“Broken heart. The woman he loved died,” I answered, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he nursed yet another bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Must have just died,” Frankie added.
“Two years ago,” I answered, moving away to take another order.
Just before two o’clock I watched him try and stand before collapsing next to the bar.
“Damn it,” Frankie mumbled.
“Leave him be, Frankie. I’ll get him into a cab. Don’t worry about it. Go home to the girls. Give them my love,” I said.
“You sure you can pick him up?”
“He’s not really that heavy. I just make you help because I like to bug you. I can handle him. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, kissing his cheek as he headed for the door.
“I meant what I said, Busy. I don’t want him sleeping in the back room anymore,” Frankie warned.
“I promise, Frankie.”
I waved at him as I locked the door then set about cleaning. Jack Daniels never moved an inch from where he lay against the bar on the floor.
At a quarter after three I dragged him out the door and hailed a cab. Giving the driver directions to my place I took my heartbroken stranger home with me.
It didn’t take much to get him inside my little apartment and lay him on the sofa. I got some blankets and a pillow and made a makeshift bed for him. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, I ran a hand through his hair.
How awful was his pain that he didn’t even want to tell him his name to make sure he got home? How broken was his heart that he no longer cared if he was left in the storeroom of a bar or on the streets outside of it?
“Such a tortured soul. Who are you, Jack Daniels?” I whispered.
When his nightmare once again woke me I left my bed to go to him. He was crying out once again for the love he had lost but the moment I touched him he quieted and pulled me to him. His nightmare became a dream and I became the woman he had lost.
As night turned to day I felt him stirring beneath me. This time I spoke first.
“Are you awake?” I whispered.
“Yes. Where am I?” he asked.
“My apartment. I couldn’t bear to just leave you on the streets and I promised Frankie not to leave you in the storeroom again. So here you are,” I answered.
“You brought me home with you?” he asked, his voice stunned.
“Sorry. I don’t make enough money to get you a room at the Hilton,” I teased.
“You don’t even know me. What if I was some crazed axe murderer?”
“Then you would have killed me the first night in the storeroom,” I answered.
“You trust too much,” he said,
“And you hurt too much,” I countered.
“My pain doesn’t hurt anyone else. If you got killed I’m sure someone would mourn you.”
“Just Frankie. My parents passed away a few years ago and my life is in that bar. Maybe I would have a few customers mourn me, but I doubt it,” I answered.
“No boyfriend, husband, lover.”
“Not a decent one. The only men who date bar waitresses are sleazy jerks who take your money, beat the hell out of you, and then leave you for a younger waitress. Not my idea of love,” I joked.
“Love is for idiots,” he replied softly and I once again felt his hand stroking my hair.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because in the end you always love the wrong person and then you lose them. I lost her to her husband, then I lost her to death.”
“Did you lose her or did you just not get as much of her heart as you wanted? Sometimes the greatest love we ever know is the love we take for granted,” I said, holding on to him tighter.
“I didn’t take her for granted. I loved everything about her and I loved the way she loved me,” he answered.
“But you wanted more.”
“I wanted her to love me the way I loved her and I wanted her to be with me forever. Only she gave up. She just died.”
“Don’t you know the people we love live forever in our love?”
“She use to say that,” he whispered, his hand stilling in my hair.
“What’s your name, Jack Daniels?” I asked, quietly.
“Alex. My name is Alex,” he finally answered.
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