I grabbed the bag of kibble and poured some into Tequila's bowl, watching as she wagged her tail in excitement. Just as I reached for the water dish, raised voices from the apartment below made me pause.
"I can't take this animal anymore!" the guy shouted. "Let's return it to the shelter and tell them it needs a new home!"
Tequila's ears perked up at the sudden noise, her tail slowing. I sighed, setting the bowl down. This wasn't the first time I'd heard them argue, but something about the guy's tone felt different this time. More final.
"We took responsibility when we adopted him! We can't just abandon him now!" the woman fired back, her voice shaking.
"We're not abandoning it! Let's just exchange it for a normal one!"
I frowned, my grip tightening around the water dish.
A normal one? What the hell did that even mean?
"If you had a child that was acting up, you wouldn't just give them away!" she snapped. "You'd teach them, help them learn! This is the same thing!"
Silence. I could almost feel the tension in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Then the guy spoke again, quieter but just as sharp. "That's it. I've had enough. It's either me or that thing."
I let out a slow breath, staring at Tequila as she looked up at me, oblivious to the storm raging downstairs. I didn't need to see them to know how this would end.
But just the thought of letting a dog go, just because he couldn't stand it, had me fuming. I looked at Tequila, who was sitting patiently by my side, and muttered, "Could you wait here for a while? I gotta give that guy a piece of my mind." I stood up and reached for the door handle, but before I could open it, I heard a door slam downstairs.
"F*ck it! Choosing a dog over me! Some b*tch you are!" The guy's voice was sharp, full of venom, and I could hear him storming off. I backed away from the door, feeling oddly relieved that he was gone. As for the girl... I figured she needed some space.
"Good riddance," I whispered to myself, feeling the heat in my chest start to cool.
This wasn't the first time I'd overheard them arguing about the dog. The last time, I heard the guy's voice--irritated and furious--yelling at the dog for ruining their stuff. Then there was a loud thud, like he'd kicked it. That had me seeing red, and for a moment, I thought I was going to storm in there and confront him. But I held back. I didn't want to get involved in other people's messes. But if I ever heard him do that again, I promised myself I wouldn't stay silent. I would intervene.
As I left for work that evening, I passed by the woman's apartment. From the other side of her door, I heard soft sobs--quiet and broken. I stopped in my tracks, standing there for a moment, unable to move. A wave of sympathy washed over me for her. No one deserved to be treated like that. Not by anyone.
It was brave of you to choose your dog over your lover, I thought. I admired her for that. And then, I left for work.
"You'd been staring at the counter far too long, Ty. We have orders piling up. Keep it together." Bernard's voice snapped me back to the present, but it didn't quite land. The vision of the counter lingered in my mind, its faded wood grain almost mocking me. I blinked hard forcing myself to focus.
Mark, one of our regulars, waved his hand at me, a silent reminder that I wasn't as alone in this moment as I felt. He slid into his usual seat at the bar with that casual ease only regulars had.
"Give me the usual, Ty," Mark said, his voice laced with the comfort of routine.
"Got it." I moved mechanically, grabbing a cup and filling it with dry beer, the action barely registering in my mind. Mark didn't waste time, gulping the beer down like it was a lifeline. I watched him, that same routine of his, something he could still rely on. I tried to focus on the motion---grabbing the glass, pouring, handing it over but it felt forced. Like I was just going through the motions, but nothing was clicking. All I could do was force my hands to move and hope it didn't look like I was drifting too far away.
"Hey, Ty," he began, his voice breaking the silence. "You know that girl I told you about?"
I nodded, though my thoughts were elsewhere. I knew what came next---the story of some woman, the kind Mark always seemed to get tangled up with. People always thought bartenders were good listeners, and I'd long stopped caring about the details.
"She turned out to be married," he continued, his tone empty, like it didn't matter anymore. "She said I just happened to be there when she needed it. I was a temporary escape, Ty... from her situation with her husband..."
"A temporary escape, huh? I knew a thing or two about that." I told Mark.
His words blurred together as they echoed in my head. A wife, a husband, an escape. The sentences kept coming, but my focus faltered. I nodded absentmindedly, wore a smile that didn't reflect my thoughts, barely hearing him anymore. The sound of his voice felt distant, like everything else around me.
The beer in front of me, the familiar clink of glasses, the sound of Bernard's voice in the back---all of it was just background noise now. I was there, physically, but I wasn't truly present.
"Ty. Hey, Ty? Are you listening, man?" Mark waved a hand in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts. I bowed my head and sighed. "Sorry, man. Here." I poured him another glass of beer as he continued to pour his heart out.
The night dragged on as our customers slowly thinned out. We called for the last order before we had to close. Bernard snuck up behind me and said, "Ty. Do you need a day off? You seem out of it. Just let me know. It feels like you could use some rest."
I stayed silent, I wiped down the glasses absently, the motion almost automatic. Partially preparing to close the bar. With my silence, Bernard didn't pry further.
I remembered the last time I had been here, before Kz—-before everything had shifted. Back then, this had been my normal. The clink of glass, once comforting, now just an empty sound.
But now, it seemed like the comfort was gone. The clink of glass, the hum of the bar, the rhythm of pouring drinks felt like a hollow echo. Kz had changed something in me, and it made me feel like I didn't know how to go back.
As we closed down, I walked over to Bernard and said, "Hey, gramps. Look, I don't need a day off. I'm just not feeling like myself lately, but it's not something you need to worry about. I've got this." He looked at me with those softened eyes, the ones that took me back to a time when he used to worry about me when I had lost myself completely. Back then, he'd offered a hand through the darkness, and I didn't want him to carry that weight for me anymore than he already had. I gave him a nod and grabbed my scooter.
I turned to head down the same road I always took home, but then, I veered onto a different path. Maybe the ride would clear the fog in my mind. Maybe it wouldn't. But either way, I hoped it would empty the noise that had been battling for attention.