Ten Moves Ahead (Part 5)

Cornelius smiles, but not a joyous smile, if that makes sense, more of a smile of appreciation and thanks.  "Yes, it does suck, doesn't it?" he says.

"So what do we do then?" I ask, finding myself strangely interested in how all this works.  "Just go talk to the guy?"

"That could be a start," Cornelius says.  He sighs.  And takes another sip of beer.  "To tell you the truth, I'm not very good at this more relational type stuff.  Standing in front of a kids bike or scaring someone away for a lion cage, that kind of stuff I can do just fine, but I still haven't figured out quite how to deal with these more emotional issues."

"Well, I guess we could start by saying hello," I suggest.  "I can tell you, if you hadn't just blurted out at me what I was supposed to do all those months ago, things could have gone differently.  I'm not sure they would have, but they might have."

"I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay," I'm surprised to find myself saying.  "I'm no worse off than if you had never said anything to me at all."

He nods.  "So I guess you'll go talk to the bartender?"

I nod back.  "I can do that," I say, not really sure if I actually can.  I take a gulp of my beer for good luck and walk over to sit at the bar.

The bartender notices me almost immediately, it being a slow Sunday night and all, and asks, "What'll it be?"

"Actually, I was just hoping to get a water," I say, unsure of anything else that would make sense given I already have a nearly full beer back at my booth.

He nods and fills a glass for me.  Thinking of nothing better to say, I decide to just make something up.  "Say, have we met before?  You look a little familiar."

He glances up at me as he tops off the water.  "I don't think so," he says.  "Not unless you've been in here before and I've forgotten, which doesn't often happen."

"Good memory?" I ask.

He nods and then smiles a little.  "I don't like to brag," he says, "but I have a knack for faces."  And then he slides my water to him and I see him glance over at the waitress.

"She has a pretty face, doesn't she?" I say without thinking, feeling extremely awkward as soon as I say it.

The bartender's smile twists a little and I know he felt the awkwardness too, but he's a professional so he says, "Yeah, not bad to look at."

I nod.  "Well thanks for the water," I say, unsure of anything else to say.

"Any time," he says, picking up another glass from behind the counter and wiping it off.

I turn away from the bar, realize I've forgotten my water, turn back and give the bartender an awkward smile, and then take my water back to the table.

Cornelius is beaming from ear to ear when I sit back down.  "That was great!" he says.

"I've never felt so awkward in my entire life," I say in a whisper, afraid one of the few other patrons, or worse yet, the bartender or waitress, will hear.  "That's so much worse than talking to random girls even."

Cornelius sighs.  "Well, I do have to admit, I feel a little good to know it wasn't just me all this time."

"Well at least one of us feels good," I say, retreating into my beer.

"Oh, come now," Cornelius says.  His voice has that same tone your high school track coach might use to try to encourage you after a disappointing race.  "You didn't weird him out too bad.  We can come back in a couple days and try again.  Let's just enjoy our beers and not let things get to us."

"Isn't there anyone else we can help?" I ask, realizing I'm not really sure how comfortable I am continuing to just chill with Cornelius.

He shakes his head.  "Not anyone I see," he admits.  Then he raises his glass.  "Cheers!"

"Cheers," I mumble and take a sip.  We drink in silence for a while, and then Cornelius offers some random bits of sports and science trivia.  I appreciate him making an effort and some of the stuff he says is actually kind-of interesting, though I have to admit, it's not really a normal conversation.  We finish our beers and he asks if I want another.  When I decline, he insists on paying and when I can't dissuade him, I thank him and leave.  As I walk out the door, I see him hail the waitress and order another drink for himself.  They talk a bit longer than it takes to order a drink and I see her glance back at the bartender, then back at Cornelius, and shake her head.  I'm tempted to go back and ask what he said to her, but I decide it's better to just be on my way, so I leave, go home, and somehow manage to spend the rest of the night trying again to figure out Cornelius instead of thinking about Mandy or Clara.  I go to sleep still confused, but not unhappy, and wondering what strange things are going to happen tomorrow.

---

In actuality, not much of anything happens the next day.  It's a pretty busy day at work, and when I get home, I mostly feel like just ordering Chinese food and zoning out in front of the TV, which is what I end up doing.  I feel a little sad.  I think I just miss Mandy.  Cornelius doesn't call either.

---

Tuesday night, Cornelius calls and asks if I'd like to go back to the bar for a drink.  I say, "sure," and head out to meet him.  When I get there he doesn't say anything about the waitress or the bartender.  I notice that the waitress from Sunday isn't there today, but the bartender still is.

"I think she had the day off to do a follow-up interview for her new job," Cornelius says.  "That's what it seemed like anyway."

"So what do we do now?" I ask.

Cornelius shrugs.  "We could go order drinks from the bar and ask where the waitress is," he suggests.

I feel like it's not so much a suggestion as what he thinks it the thing to do, so I walk up there and he follows behind.  "Could I get a gin and tonic?" I say.

The bartender turns and looks at me and smiles.  "Hey, you were here on Sunday," he says.

I nod.  "I guess you do have a good memory for faces," I say.

"Well," he says, as he pulls out a glass to prepare my drink, "It helps that there haven't been a lot of people through here between then and now.  You must prefer the slow days, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it's more relaxing," I say.  I actually have been going out on less busy nights since I started dating Mandy, but when I was still looking for someone, I would usually go out on Fridays and Saturdays to see who I could meet.  I find myself wondering how long it will be until I feel comfortable doing that again, but then draw my attention back to the task at hand.  "That waitress doesn't seem to be around, though," I say.

He shakes his head.  He doesn't look uncomfortable, but maybe he's just caught less off-guard this time by me asking about her.  "No," he says.  "She's got the night off.  She was taking classes on Tuesdays, but I think she's done with that now."  He finds a straw and plops it in my drink.  "$4.25," he says.

I give him a five and say, "Keep the change."

He smiles and looks like he's about to laugh.  I'm sure that's why they charge something like $4.25 for the drink.  I'm sure he gets little seventy-five cent tips all the time.

"Do you know what she was studying?" I ask.

His brow wrinkles a bit and he looks puzzled at that.  "Some sort of business stuff," he says.  "Why are you so interested in her?"

I find myself getting embarrassed and sense the bartender getting a bit defensive and I'm not sure what to say, when Cornelius steps forward and says, "I'm sorry, my friend here was just trying to help me out I think."  He looks down and I see his cheeks grow a little red.  He seems so sincere when he glances up and says, "I just thought she was kind-of cute and, you know, how it is."

The bartender nods, but still looks a little upset.  "Yeah, I know," he says, "but a girl like her, she gets hit on a lot here.  Most guys just bounce right off her when the talk to her, you know?  I'm sure she wants to get a better gig.  That's why she went back to school after all."

"Well, I'm sure some people will certainly be sad to see her go," Cornelius says.

The bartender nods.  "Yeah," he says.  Then he shakes his head a bit and laughs to himself.  I'm imagining he's thinking that he can't believe he's talking to us about this.  That's what I would be thinking.  "So what'll you have to drink, buddy?" he asks Cornelius.  It's perfectly polite, no sense of anger or frustration.

Cornelius orders some other drink I've never heard of, but the bartender nods and seems to know what he's talking about.  "I know what it's like to admire someone without telling them how you feel," Cornelius says, "afraid of what she might say."

The bartender eyes him suspiciously and says, "I'm not sure this is really any of your business."

Cornelius shrugs.  "It probably isn't," he admits, "but I'm just saying, you've probably watched it many times before.  You've probably seen people afraid to go talk to someone because they might be rejected.  And maybe they would be rejected, maybe that's what it takes to move on.  But if they don't do anything, they just let it build, and sometimes they end up thinking they want something way more than they actually do."

The bartender still looks skeptical.  "I suppose I see that happen with some people," he says.

Cornelius takes the drink and hands the bartender a ten.  As the bartender turns to get change, Cornelius just watches him.  I see a faint smile play across his lips.  "You can always hope for the best, but you have to be prepared for the worst," he says.

I'm surprised to see the bartender smile back when he gives Cornelius his change.  "I can't argue with that," he says.

Cornelius nods and leaves a $2 tip.  "Have a good night," he says.  Then he walks off to the very back of the bar.  A little confused, I follow.

I sit and glance back at the bartender who seems to be shaking his head and maybe humming a little to himself, but he looks content.  I look back at Cornelius, who is sipping his drink, also with a look of contentment on his face.  I stare at my own drink, not feeling the slightest bit thirsty.  Finally I ask, "What just happened?"

Cornelius looks up at me.  "I think we make a pretty decent team," he says.  "That's the first time in a while I've actually felt good about my interaction with someone I was trying to help."

"But what happened?" I persist.  "Or I guess, what's going to happen."

"He's finally going to ask her out and she's going to very reluctantly agree.  They're going to have their date and it will be okay, but he's going to realize she's not that in to him and tell her, he's going to tell her, that it's not going to work out but that he wishes her the best.  The best part is, then he'll be ready to consider the new waitress, who's not quite as pretty, but much more attracted to him.  They make a really cute couple."  And Cornelius sighs contentedly and takes another sip of his drink.

I can't help but smile at the thought of what he just described actually happening.  I almost wish I could see it myself.  I suppose I could see it myself if I wanted to keep hanging out around here, but I don't want to give off a weird stalker vibe.  Then I think of something else to ask.  "So is it always about love?"

"Is what always about love?"  Cornelius tilts his head slightly as if trying to decipher my meaning.

"These little visions you see.  Are they always about love?"

"Well, most everything really boils down to either death or love," he says, "but not always directly.  The most powerful ones seem to be."

"Like mine," I say.

"Like yours."

"That you still can't see clearly."

He frowns.  "Listen to me," he says, "just because I can't see all the details doesn't mean I didn't feel it.  I often feel these things as if they're happening to me, both the pleasure and the pain.  I know how much you love Clara, how happy it would make you to be with her and how devastating it would be to give up all hope and finally admit that it could never be.  I hope with all of my heart that you get the happy ending.  It might not seem like I'm being much help, but I really want that for you because in my visions, it's like I'm wanting it for myself."

"That's really touching," I say, "but I have to admit, this is all so strange I still have a hard time believing all of this, and believing you."

He nods.  "I know," he says.  "You sway back in forth between faith and doubt, trust and distrust.  I don't blame you.  Not in the least.  Already you're the closest thing I've had to a friend in a good long while, and I really want to thank you for that, I want to help you, whether you believe it or not.  What you want to do with my offer of help is completely up to you."

I lean back with my drink in hand, swishing it about a bit.  "I guess I might as well stay with it," I say casually, "at least for now."

He smiles.  "That makes me very happy," he says.  "I hope that you won't regret it."

"Yeah," I say softly, not sure if he can hear or not, "me, too."