Aberration

4. Boomtender

The bar was busier than he'd expected given how few people he'd seen walking the East Creek. Adam had arrived late, taking more than an hour to recollect himself and process what he'd seen in the trees, and was surprised to find several people already settling in for the evening. A man and woman about his age spoke to one another further down the bar, a nervous air between them. He hadn't heard much of what they said, but made a guess that this was an early date in their relationship. Behind him, a couple of older men sat on the same side of the booth, working through their second pitcher of beer. They periodically raised their voice to converse with a younger man in an adjacent booth who hung his arm on the divider between them. Adding to the din, in the corner of the bar, commentators made predictions about the upcoming game on an old CRT television. Adam rested his head in one hand, looking at Mel.

Mel stood behind the bar, leaned forward to listen to the woman seated there. She nodded, waited, nodded again, and began mixing a cocktail. The men in the booth behind him began speaking more animatedly as the game kicked off on the TV. Adam rubbed his eyes. He wasn't sure how to bring up the thing he'd seen. He wasn't sure if he even should bring it up. Mel finished making the drink and handed it to the woman, making a quick note on a pad of paper. She gave her customer service smile to the couple and walked back to Adam.

"So, no bites, I take it?" she said, leaning on the counter behind the bar.

"What?" he asked, pulling himself from the thoughts.

"You look beat and you don't stink like fish, thus- my brilliant deduction." Mel seemed pleased with herself, awaiting his response.

"Oh, uh, no. The fish haven't forgiven me for leaving yet, I guess." With the panic of the moment having passed, he wasn't even sure what he'd seen. He knew what he thought it looked like, but he simply couldn't believe it. A monster? A demon? How would he even begin to talk about it? Mel seemed to be examining him, her eyes picking apart his expression.

"So, are we gonna talk about it?" she asked, straightening herself. She began cleaning a glass with a small fountain mounted in the counter.

"Dude, I don't even know how to begin to explain," he replied, burying his face in his arms. He felt embarrassed even considering bringing it up.

"Wanna just spout a stream of consciousness at me? I'm down for a rant." She wiped the glass dry and poured a beer from the tap. Adam shook his head, waving it off. "Oh, no. This is for me. You gotta pay." She said this with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. "Hank gets pissed if I hand out free beer to the customers." She took a deep gulp and set it back on the bar between them.

"There's not really a stream to rant," Adam muttered. "I'm just trying to sorta figure something out." Mel nodded understandingly.

"Give it a bit. A lot of things have changed for you lately. You might just need time to adjust," she replied, cutting a slice of orange. She picked a slice and squeezed it into the beer, then dropped the rind into the cup.

Adam considered the suggestion. Perhaps it was just stress. He wasn't certain what he was given on the plane, either. For all he knew, the thing he saw was just a random drug working its way out of his system. He took a sip from Mel's beer. One of the men in the booth called for Mel and she nodded at him.

"Back in a sec," she said, hopping onto the bar and swinging her legs over. The couple seated near them gave startled expressions, then stifled laughs as they resumed their conversation. Adam swirled the beer around a few times to mix the orange in better then took another drink. He glanced around the room.

This was one of the few prominent places in East Creek he was unfamiliar with. The walls were peppered like a shotgun spread of knick-knacks and memorabilia of the history of the bar. A few records hung at different heights over the liquor shelf behind the bar. An old football was prominently mounted with a plaque opposite the cash register near a shelf where some old Halloween decorations had clearly been forgotten. Dozens of picture frames were spread out along the back wall, extending into the corner beneath the television. Near the door, hundreds of photos overlapped like scales spreading from the doorframe, displaying people holding up fish in front the bar. Adam vaguely recalled a sort of tradition where people could bring their day's catch here to have it prepared by whoever was cooking that day if they bought a pitcher of beer. He wondered briefly if his father was somewhere in the tapestry of polaroids.