The Right Side

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After I sat down in The Watering Hole, this guy who looked like an old Hell’s Angel walked up to me and said, “Don’t you live upstairs in my rooming house?”

“Yes, that’s right,” I said, even though the question was obviously rhetorical. He had given me the keys to the room only a few days ago, hardly enough time to have forgotten about me. I’m not the type of person people easily forget, though I wish they would.

He took the seat next to me, as if that were what he was asking for the entire time. I came here for a quiet drink and cheap food, not to get closer to my landlord, but with rent being only two fifty, I couldn’t afford not to be nice.

“Is this a popular place for locals?” I asked.

He nodded and waved over to the bartender. “Has to be, considering it’s the only.”

“The only bar in the whole town?” I asked. The town was small, at least what I had seen so far, but no town in America was so small as to have only one bar. The few square miles that weren’t farmland were occupied with worn, shaggy buildings with chipping paint, so I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out if the last coat was put on during the Prohibition. The city I left behind had a bar on every block that had lights that illuminated the night in a rainbow on the streets. Not like here, where you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face after sundown.

“It is, but they have an incredible top-shelf selection.”

I looked at the glass of neat scotch the bartender had brought him. My beer didn’t taste quite right after seeing that. I picked at a pile of peanuts in front of me.

“So, I didn’t ask before, but what brought you out here?” he asked.

“Adventure,” I said with a sarcastic laugh.

He chuckled and sipped on his drink. He probably thought I was just another headstrong millennial, avoiding steady work and an even steadier roof. What he didn’t know, and what I didn’t care to tell him, was that I was simply hoping for greener pastures than I left behind, and I began my journey in actual green pastures. I wasn’t looking to be a lazy layabout that ate off a plate forced in front of me, I was going to find my own way on my own back.

“An elusive thing to chase, for sure. Careful where you go looking.”

That was ominous.

“Is here not the right place?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it in that way,” he said with a wave of his drink. “I was young once. Went looking for adventure. Found it in a recruiter’s office.”

“Not what you bargained for?”

He swept his head from side to side.

“In ways it was. They didn’t need to sell me on much. Fighting for my country is noble enough, even without combat. Stuck around long enough though, looking for adventure. Found it again in the open waters of the Pacific.”

I took in another handful of peanuts.

“There’s nothing much to see out there except the horizon and lots of people. Too many, too close.”

Weird thing to say, considering he owns a boarding house.

“I’m not much of a people person,” I said.

“Don’t have to be much of anything when the furthest a body can get from you is four feet. In close quarters, everyone tends to meld together. Become one. It’s good for combat, as long as it’s the right side.”

I suppose that would explain all of the tattoos.

“Right,” I said, going back for my stale beer. I probably shouldn’t have let him go off on a tangent. If I stay here much longer, I won’t be surprised if he just spits out his whole life story to me. That tends to happen a little too often for me to be comfortable with.

He chuckled, a tell-tale signal that he was going to start the run again. I decided to head him off.

“So, the other tenants, are they out looking for adventure too?” I asked. I had only caught bare glances of the other boarders that I shared walls with; a woman with a child, and a man around my age.

He shook his head.

“They’re just looking for a roof and a way to get by. Been there a while, as most usually are. Your room didn’t get vacant until the last tenant died.”

He patted me on the shoulder.

“She died at the hospital, not your room,” he said with a laugh.

I still didn’t find it funny. My room is fine enough, clean, with enough space for a bed, a desk to plot my next moves, and a set of drawers for my clothes. But definitely not big enough to die in.

“The others came to town at different times, all needing a place to stay. There’s a hotel on Main Street, but it isn’t meant for anyone looking for something long-term. Not many options but the spot of land I’ve got. Figured it’d suit everyone best if I set up a boarding house for our new arrivals.”

He’s not wrong. I don’t think Apartments.com has any idea this town even exists. I would have had to skip out on this town entirely if it hadn’t been for the cheap room at his place.

“That’s generous of you.”

He smiled at me and clasped my shoulder again.

“Glad to hear you think so. Don’t get much appreciation these days.”

Not surprising, considering the hands everyone gets dealt, but politeness is embedded in my DNA more firmly than my opinions. I guzzled the last bit of my drink and set the glass and money for it on the counter.

“Well, I’d better get back. Have a nice night,” I said.

“Hang on.” He put my money back in my hand and slid a crisp fifty-dollar bill on the counter between both of our seats. “I enjoy good conversation. Let me give you a ride back.”

I didn’t know what was more intimidating, riding in a car with a three-day-old stranger, or riding my bike through the pitch-black unknown.

The bartender came to our side of the counter and began collecting our dishes.

“Mr. Gerry, leavin’ already?”

“’Fraid so. Gotta get back to the missus eventually. Thought I’d give my new tenant a ride to the house first, though.”

The bartender glanced at the bill on the counter, then at me.

“Thought I hadn’t seen you before. So, you’re stickin around?”

“God willing,” I said.

“The town’s always lookin for more church-goin folk. Where you comin from?”

The town seemed to be looking for more. More information, it seemed. Funny, the bartender hadn’t spoken a word to me prior to Mr. Gerry sitting down beside me.

“The coast,” I said. I was similarly vague in my rental application.

“What brings you this way?” he asked further.

Mr. Gerry answered for me. “Adventure.”

“Careful where you go lookin for that,” the bartender said.

“They’re fine. Level-headed, and a great conversationalist to boot. Probably the best tenant I’ve had in a while.”

And this was the same person who hadn’t remembered I was renting their room?

“Probably won’t be ’round too long then, hmm?”

I didn’t like the sound of that either.

“This one is going places, I wager. As for me, I think I’ll relieve myself before that ride,” he said before disappearing to the other end of the bar.

The bartender offered me a smile. “That’s big praise comin from Mr. Gerry. Get in on his good side and he may set you up in a suite on Main Street.”

“He has another boarding house there?”

The bartender grabbed the fifty off the counter and began wiping it down in slow circles.

“He’s got every building on that side of town. But I’m talkin' ’bout the hotel. Nice place.”

Maybe it was, but it wasn’t for long-term rentals.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying,” I said.

He tossed his rag over his shoulder. “Rules are set by the boss, ain’t they?”

It was then that Mr. Gerry came out of the restroom and patted me on the back again.

“Ready for that ride?”

I figured murder wasn’t on the agenda, considering what the bartender had said, so I nodded and followed Mr. Gerry out of the bar and over to his pickup. He helped me lay my bike down in the bed of the truck, and I lifted myself into the passenger seat. Once we made way on the road, I felt relieved about accepting his offer. Past the headlights of the truck, there was nothing but flat darkness. Every so often a tree in the distance would break the flatness, like an iceberg in an ocean, beyond that, I could only see the largeness of an unobstructed moon and a mosaic of stars.

“That a rare sight where you come from?” Mr. Gerry asked.

“Sadly, yes,” I said. Back home the lights in the sky moved and would flash red, blue, or white. The stars were beautiful, and to look up at them was like looking at a still-life painting. An antique that was too fragile to see back home.

“Just one of the perks to life out here. All the nature you could ever hope to see. Virgin dirt, arrowheads hidden in riverbeds, and-"

I smacked my neck loudly. “And mosquitos?”

“There’s those too. Just the important things.”

“Dirt, arrowheads, and mosquitos?”

He laughed. “Not dirt, land, and not arrowheads, history. The bloodsuckers, well, those are everywhere, but knowing how to handle them, that’s important.”

I began to raise the window even though my skin was already stuck to the leather inside the hot cab of the truck. He didn’t turn the AC on. The temperature gauge said 82 degrees. In front of us, the reflection of a warning light blinked under the harsh beam of the truck’s lights. Someone was fiddling with their bike on the side of the road.

Mr. Gerry groaned.

“Damn Everett.”

He slowed the truck to a stop alongside the bike. The man trying to realign his chain looked up. It was the same man I shared a wall with. His dark forehead was shiny with sweat, and his shirt slick with it. His bike was facing the direction of the house, which I supposed was where he was heading.

“Evening,” Mr. Gerry said. “Need a ride? You could squeeze in the bed,” he offered.

There was an open seat in the cab too.

“I’d rather not trouble you,” my neighbor, Everett I guess, said.

“Best not to be out like this,” Mr. Gerry said back. He began tapping on the wheel. I unhooked my seatbelt and hopped out.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

Everett looked at me as if he were puzzled that I was there. Maybe he didn’t recognize me either. I bent down to look over the tire he was messing with. He’d need a new innertube and chain if he planned to ride it. The house was still a mile off.

“It’s pretty busted, I think you’ll have to ride with us.”

Everett looked up into the cab, then back at me.

“I’d rather walk.”

I smacked my thigh. Damn, mosquitos. I don’t remember where, but I once heard that mosquitos were attracted to sweat. I can’t imagine why he’d volunteer to walk the rest of the way. It was hot, he had to have realized that, and the mosquitos were relentless.

“At least take my bike. We’ll take this one back for you,” I said.

We went around the back of the truck and breathed in the exhaust fumes as we began to unload the bike.

“You getting close with Gerry?” he asked me, his voice was barely audible over the sound of the engine.

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I handed him my bike.

He looked at it, then at me. “Whose side are you on?”

I wasn’t aware there were sides drawn. I helped him lift the broken bike.

“Getting cozy with him will mean no help from us,” he said.

“I didn’t come all this way for anyone’s help,” I said back.

“No one does. But being people like us in a place like this, you can’t help but need it eventually.”

He got on my bike and rode off. The way he spoke, I thought he would have left my bike behind, but maybe he meant what he said. I went up front and got back into the truck. Mr. Gerry put it into gear and we began driving down the road again. We passed Everett. He didn’t wave.

“See what I mean? There’s no appreciation these days.”

I didn’t say anything back, just swatted another mosquito.

“We can talk more about adventure when you learn to deal with those,” Mr. Gerry said.

“I don’t think I will. There’s an army of them out there,” I said and swatted another.

“That’s the perk of small-town living. Plenty of backup as long as you’re on the right side.”