For those that are new, Saturday Serial is my little experiment. I'm drawing on events from my own life and weaving them into an ongoing story.
At this point we have three characters introduced, Danny (me), Rachel (my wife) and Becka. For those that want to refresh their memory, the last chapter was A New World. Those that are new may want to start at the beginning with Morning Heartache.
Pulling into a parking space the old Datsun pickup sputters to a stop. Danny looks out the window toward the building and his eyes are drawn to the sign. Anne's Saloon - Live Music. People are milling about and exiting their vehicles. Their boisterous laughter sounds muffled and distant from inside the cab. Reaching out Danny grabs the handle to open the door and stops confronted with a wash of anxiety.
Bowing his head for a moment he then raises his eyes and looks out the window again. An inner struggle takes place between knowing what is right and the lure of adventure. From feeling dead and inert to having something feel good. I have a wife... I have children... This isn't right, he tells himself, but it does little to quell what brought him here. Why am I here? What am I looking for? he wonders. The anxiety remains.
Danny, having married before being of drinking age, had rarely been in a bar; he really didn't know what to expect. While in high school his family had undergone severe turmoil. An alcoholic father, a small town and the law made sure he was quiet and kept to himself. Shy and awkward, Danny knew he would be out of his element; yet still the unknown beckoned.
Click, pop, the old truck's door swings open with a complaining creak. Danny steps out and draws a breath of the evening air. He wishes he had someone with him, someone he could confide in. No one expects him to be here, now. To his family, his friends, his life with Rachel appears happy; at least for the most part. Am I a fool? Rachel is a beautiful woman, is there something wrong with me? He begins the lonely walk toward the saloon his steps matching the pounding of his heart.
His mind drifts to the new friends he has made, to the people he had met. "Met" is a rather loose term, he had only chatted with these people online. He had never actually met them face to face. In fact everyone uses a handle -- none of the people he had "met" actually knew his real name.
His "friends" know him as Paos Yrovi. Danny enjoys his handle, the silliness of it. Most upon seeing it will ask if he is a foreigner, a Russian maybe. But in truth it's just Ivory Soap spelled backward. He shakes his head with a wry grin. What kind of people am I really about to meet? Reaching out he pulls the saloon door open and steps inside. A man stands near a podium
"Sir, can I see some ID please?"