A Serenade for the Innocent 10 All the Things He Said

The worst part about drinking alone in a silent night is the sadness accompanying every drop of alcohol traveling my insides. It's even worse if the company you're working for filed bankruptcy.

"Bartender," I shouted with a hiccup, "whatever poison you're making me drink right now I want two more of it."

"Are you sure, miss? You've been drinking here since before opening hours."

"And I've been telling you over and over it's fine!" I chuckled before trying to hold my barf from bursting out of my stomach. "I'm fine!"

The bartender sighed in surrender as he looks for my order behind the counter. He judgingly stared down at me with a raised eyebrow as he put the bottle back whence he took it. I made an inaudible noise as a retort to his unacceptable actions, but he instead ignored me and continued on wiping wine glasses.

The part of the bar I'm sitting in now turned wet by god knows what liquids but I'm betting 80% of those are human tears - my human tears. I'm certain. The bartender shrugged me off in my lonesome as I chuckle alone, repeatedly shouting for two more bottles of scotch. The dimly lit bar is bright enough to let every patron inside see how pathetic I've become after our company went down to the depths of conglomerate debt.

Their murmurs are of a volume low enough for me not to hear but the collective noise of their whispers sounded as if they're chanting some ungodly sorcery to rid me from the silence of their alcoholic sanctuary. They might as well tie me down a sepulcher and offer me as sacrifice inside their synagogues for I'm being unacceptably embarrassing with my stupid behavior since I came here about seven hours ago.

I remembered I was so excited for today because I bought this new clothes yesterday with my paycheck. And, oh my god, they are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous dress I've ever seen, but it costs half of my monthly allowance. I don't know what material it's made of but when I tried it on it felt so right and the way it fit me felt so immaculate I can't resist buying it. I had no money though, but I said screw it, I'll just work harder next month!

I think you already know what happened next. I went to work today expecting everyone to at least compliment me or notice how impossibly adorable my outfit is. Instead, I got a notice written in an 8 by 11 bond paper informing everyone we lost our jobs. There's even a fancy little signature from the CEO herself below, probably the last signature she'll ever use as CEO.

I'm so sad. Today is so sad. This is so sad. And now my dress, ruined; my hair, ruined; my day, ruined; my entire career I prioritize my entire life, fucking ruined! And I don't even know if I want to go on, I'm not sure if I can continue from here.

Now, all that I have is three bottles of scotch and an old bartender in a quiet bar listening to my pathetic wailing, ruining everyone's night the same way the world ruined mine. This sucks. I don't have a family to call since my parents don't have phones; I have no friends to talk to, and no lover to comfort me. Well, I had once, but a long time ago, I never had one again. Damn it, this is what alcohol does to you. It makes an already bad day worse by making you remember the pains you endured in the past.

"Yo, Carl! Where're the two bottles? Give me my scotch, man!" I shouted once again with a swirling voice I can only compare to a crackhead's.

Everyone took notice of my embarrassing show of wretchedness. I guess the bar's poise and luxurious aesthetic with all the velvet wallpaper, tiled floors, and cushioned seats do not fit with how repulsive my state is in. Everything in this bar is black from the ceiling to the floor, the tables and the chair, every corner and every condiment, every carving and every design on the terrifyingly alluring wallpaper. As if the environment itself wishes to mimic the absolute sadness traveling my veins and escaping through my pores.

Pair with the fact that Peerless Sheep - this posh bar, with all the minimalistic designs and arabesque patterned ceiling - is for members only makes this entire thing thousand times more embarrassing. I can only imagine the thoughts running through their heads; perhaps, they're thinking how an unrefined woman like I got a membership to a place like this.

I bet none of them would believe I was once keeping a high ranking post in my previous job. Damn, until now it still pains me every time I call it a "previous job". I'm sorry, okay? I can't find the right mentality to look refined and lady-like right now. I can be beautiful if I so desire because I am. I kept an image of a saint-like figure with the perfect figure and a lovely face for almost a decade. I dedicate much of my life to looking beautiful and keeping it that way. Is it such a shameful thing to at least be ugly at a time where I feel like I'm the ugliest person in the world?

As the bartender continuously ignores my protestation about my unattended order, the door behind me swung open and the absolute power it resonated rang into my ears. Hearing the way this uneventful stranger enters the bar sent a cold, sort of nauseating, feeling all over the top of my skin, down my organs. It so surreal. I don't know why, but the way he opened the door creates an unbearable feeling in the core of my chest. It felt so personal, so familiar, and so utterly fearsome; as if they have activated my instinct as a prey with the smallest sensation of my predator prowling beneath the masque of darkness.

He entered the bar, walking about inside; each step gaining volume towards my direction. "Carl, give me the usual." That voice, that deep and timid tone, calming and soothing, strange yet magnificent; there's only one person in this world equipped with such a powerful weapon. I hurriedly poured what remains of the scotch in the bottle I have unto my glass, biting my lower lip hard to ease my sudden burst of anxiety.

I know this man. I don't know how I recognized him without seeing his face but I do. The sound of his steps, the manner of his movements, the domineering aura he exudes with his presence alone, and his commanding voice towering over my cowering body shackles my mind with a powerful grasp. This feeling is making my inner demons pour countless barrels of sweat down my forehead, making me swallow my saliva as thousands of memories jogged itself up with the countless emotions I'm feeling.

"It's been a while, Ashley."

God, and I thought this day can't get any worse than this.

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"You look well, Denzel."

He pulled the stool next to me and sat on it, pretending there's no dirty atmosphere surrounding us. My eyes moved toward his direction but my body remained unmoved, tense like I'm covered in concrete and cement.

Why!?

I exclaimed to myself that single word. Why, why, why, why, why, why? Why!? What is he doing? What's he planning? What is he trying to achieve by torturing me like this? Didn't he tell me he was the one who got hurt more last time we met? Isn't this situation he put himself into suffocating for the both of us?

I observe his every movement. He calmly orders something, my head is in a blur and the only sense working in my body at the moment is the one in my eyes, my sight. I can see the way he raised his hands to call the attention of the bartender, I see the way he voiced out something with an irritatingly calm expression, and he loosened his necktie a few inches away from his collar revealing a peek of his neck until he finally noticed me scanning his every move.

"No need to be so cautious. I'm not here to laugh at you."

I reply with silence and a continued leering with bloodshot eyes.

"I heard… you know, about your company. I thought you'd be here, so I came here right away after work." He said looking through my eyes, making my resolve weak.

I dropped my shoulders and looked down my glass. "You can laugh now. I can take it."

"I'm not gonna do that." He whispered, leaning closer.

"I know you've been waiting for this to happen."

He paused for a moment. "No. But yeah, maybe if I think about it I've been waiting for this opportunity." My hands shook and my eyes moistened; I cannot seem to contain the beating of my heart. "Ashley, believe me, I still…"

"I can't do this with you right now." I stood up, took my wallet from my handbag, and left my bill on the table with a loud smack from my palms.

"Wait, Ashley please," He pulled my hands, it's forceful, but it doesn't hurt. It's the gentlest grip I've ever felt for a long time. The gentle grip only he can give, powerful yet kind. And as always I let his provocations captivate my soul. I'm so weak, especially against him.

I tried hard to conceal my tears, my shame, my regrets, and most of all I tried to think of a response that would not hurt him; no, not again, not this time. "What?"

"Stay at my place tonight. You look horrible, you're not okay." His grip loosens up, giving my poor shaking wrist a breather, but there are no breaks for this maiden's heart. "Please?" He whispered, pressing his fingers on my hands like a sweet childish massage; melting me with the heat of his love.

I took a timid step towards him; my heels letting out a soft sound as it hits the smooth black tiles. For the first time in years, I can finally relish on the touch of this man I craved yet I set free. Our reflection on the tiles is the only witness of our sudden reunion. Or maybe not.

I noticed all around me, people from different ages and from different companies with different lives and wealth are staring right at us as we display our embarrassing public display of uncomfortable affection, free for all to mock. I realized this man in front of me is holding the hand of a now poor and ugly old lady. I can't take that, he should touch someone else. Someone as evil as me do not deserve these hands.

"I'm sorry, Denzel," I pulled my hands away from him as a tear slowly drops from my eye. "I can't do that. I can't do that to you." I hurriedly stepped out of the bar as I sniff and wipe my tears on my sleeves.

I can hear Denzel run towards me after a few minutes but I was already out of the building when he pulled me back to his arms. Our bodies touched and our breath synced into each other sort of like a perfectly timed symphony of the wind our lips alone produce. The smell of his immaculate masculine aroma paired with the sharpness of his gaze is strong enough to drain whatever resolve remains in my spirit.

There's no way I can win against someone as powerful as this man since he engraved his spell upon me when we first laid eyes on one another. And now the long-sealed curse of his undying love has reawakened and there's nothing I can do but surrender myself completely to him.

"Ashley," he whispered as he slowly and cautiously constricts my waist with his hands. "I know we had a rough time, but that's all in the past now. I'm willing to leave you alone for now, but can I at least help you out? You know, as a friend."

Hearing those words enter through my ears makes me feel like I'm standing on a meadow as my heart flutters along with the daffodils. I'm such a weak woman.

"I told you, I can't do that to you." I pushed him away with what little strength I have in me. I don't know if he's faking it to make me feel better but softly pressing my hands on his chest took him a step back from me, releasing his hands from my body. "Nothing good will ever happen if we associate like this again. You know this. God, you know this better than me."

Outside is cold, dark, and lonely, lonelier than Denzel's distant stares after what I said. As the darkness surrounds us, I find solace in the only light source around, the dim violet luminance of the bar's signage. I can see a troubled man in front of me basked in the amalgamation of the purple light and the singular darkness creating an iridescence of our conflicting emotions. Meanwhile, the darkness' cold embrace swallows me along with Denzel's benignant shadow.

"See you," I said as I turn my back on him.

That's so cool. I feel like that's my greatest achievement for today. I saved Denzel another heartbreak from me in such a magnificent manner.

Until I tripped.

Hard.

Face first.

"Are you okay, Ashley?" Denzel said, rushing towards me in a worried tone I would have begged to hear years ago. But now it pained me more than the bruise on my knee.

"I'm okay," I said with a scarred forehead but I bet my bleeding nostrils right now is not a convincing show of how perfectly fine I feel. "I'm just a bit dizzy. I can take care of myself." My head feels like a wreck and I can't stand up properly.

Denzel sighed. "I get it, okay. You want me to leave you alone that much, fine!" He said in a rather frustrated tone but still keeping his usual composed demeanor. "At least let me give you this." He took something from his pocket and placed it on my hands.

"Is this a business card?"

"My number is there too; see, right below my name. If you need anything, help or whatever, anything at all, don't be afraid to call me, Ashley." He breathed heavily before giving me a defeated smile.

I stood up, Denzel supporting me by holding my wrists and my waist tightly. I looked down, thinking of whatever to reply as I examine the pavement. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

I walked away from him, and as I slowly let myself get swallowed by the darkness of the night, I could hear Denzel shouting behind me, his voice echoing in my head.

"Call me!"

And with that, I walk alone; the elements of a moonless evening are the only audience in my crying spree. I weep and I weep as I walk towards the warm embrace of my home, drunk and with no hope to cling onto. I look so pathetic, I'm not even holding my tears back; I let my eyes and my nose flow liquids out on to the cold air along with my sweat. No man walks around the area this late at night so not a living soul bear witness of how stupid I look, but that doesn't mean crying like a baby in a 35-year-old's body is not pathetic. I want to shower and lie down and eat and rest and end this day in my apartment I probably have not enough budgets to stay in.

Reality snapped right back at me when a man crossed from an intersection and ambled towards my direction. That's when it truly dawned on me how unsightly I look. I wipe the dried tears off my face with my left sleeve again and use the other sleeve to wipe the sweat piling on my neck. I feel more than repulsed at myself thinking of what this stranger might think to himself seeing a mature-looking lady wiping crap out of her face like a middle-school student. Well, thankfully we finally passed each other. What a wake-up call, I need to pull myself together if I wish to get out of this mess the world has put me into.

But the world came to a halt when the sound of the man's footsteps stops.

Chapter end