heat must have been cheap. Coal was probably free, and I remember holes in the floor upstairs so when the heat rose, the bedrooms were warm. The holes were covered with grates, and I was told over and over again not to step on them.”
“Do you want to drive by?”
I didn’t know. I didn’t want to spoil tomorrow for Mick. I had made it this far, and that was probably good enough to get me back tomorrow. There was just one other thing I wanted to do.
“Let’s get a drink. There has to be a bar, right?” I asked the question like I didn’t know the answer right in the center of my gut. “Eight hundred people means bars and churches. Maybe next door to each other.”
“You’ll be recognized.”
“Way ahead of you.” From my handbag I pulled out a cap with a Pittsburgh Pirates logo. I rummaged and found oversize aviator glasses with pink-tinted lenses while I explained.
“Wendy got me the hat when she went out to score dinner. Local color. Do you know experts in eyewitness identification claim that eye color and the way the eyes are set are what people remember, plus hair color and style? Head and face shape matter, too. A baseball cap and sunglasses cover just about all those factors, which is why you see us celebrity types wearing them so frequently.” I could sense she wasn’t sure. “Robin, it’s dark, right? It’s a bar. It will be dark in there, too, and nobody is expecting me to be in town.”
“Pink-tinted lenses? You think that’s a trend in Randolph Furnace? Designer glasses aren’t going to set you apart just a little?”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“You don’t drink.”
“Not true. I drink on special occasions.”
“A case could be made for every day of this trip being special in some way.”
“Addiction was my mother’s thing, not mine.”
“How do we find this bar?”
I scanned both sides of the intersection. “This has to be the main street, or else Main Street intersects with this road. We’ll cruise and look for a busy parking lot. I’m thinking there’s not much else to do here at night except drink.”
We went in search. I wondered if Robin was in a hurry to get back to the inn so she could call Kris, but when I asked, she said no, the telephone worked in both directions.
I didn’t look too closely at the town, which didn’t seem to have much going for it, although I did note a park and a steepled church. We found a bar, the Evergreen, at the end of what was probably the main drag. So many years had passed, but my stomach tightened as Robin pulled into a small lot inhabited for the most part by pickups and cars manufactured in the US, and turned off the engine.
I wanted to tell her to turn around and head back to the inn, but this trip was about facing ghosts. And I supposed I could start right here.
Robin, who still didn’t look comfortable with our new plan, got out, and after donning my hat and glasses, I followed.
The inside was basic, to say the least. The bar counter was faced with varnished plywood, and I wondered if the owner had gotten tired of customers kicking in more expensive woods like oak or cherry. Plywood could be quickly and cheaply replaced, and the countertop of dark laminate was also a quick fix. Plain stools with backs faced it, and half or more were occupied. An old television with a picture that faded in and out was fastened on the wall high over the bartender’s head. In addition to the usual shelves of liquor, there were two refrigerator cases, one stocked with soft drinks and mixers, the other with snacks. The requisite flag completed the decor.
Robin was still worried about hiding me. “You find a corner. I’ll get the drinks. What do you want?”
I really didn’t want anything except to see if I was okay in this place. But I told her to get a whiskey on the rocks because I knew they would have it. This wasn’t a white wine joint.
I found a seat in the corner where I could see most of the room. Madonna’s “Like A Prayer” was playing over loudspeakers. I wondered if anyone had updated the playlist here since the ’90s or if we were listening to AM radio.
I got a few glances, but nobody seemed particularly interested in making contact. We weren’t the only women, and the men who weren’t accompanied were riveted to their stools, conversing loudly with their neighbors. Recognition is 90 percent expectation, and nobody here was expecting me.
Robin returned with two identical drinks and sat catty-corner so she could look out on the room, too. “I can’t imagine why you wanted to do this.”
The song changed and we both fell silent. “No Man’s Good Enough for Me,” my first entry on Billboard’s Hot 100 list was halfway through before Robin spoke again.
“Does this feel even stranger now?”
I took a sip of my whiskey. It was surprisingly mellow with a nice kick. I put the glass down because I never drink if I’m enjoying it. That decision has kept me sober even though my genes are swimming in their polluted little pool clamoring for me to get hooked on something.
“The thing is it’s probably not the first time I’ve sung here.”
“I’m sure they play your music a lot, especially if anybody’s figured out you were born here.”
“No. I mean I think I’ve sung here in person.”
Robin sipped her drink, and when I didn’t go on, she prompted me. “I’m assuming the Evergreen wasn’t on one of your recent tours?”
“Didn’t I ever tell you about Maribeth’s favorite trick? Other than prostituting herself, I mean? Drugs were her addiction of choice, but drinking wasn’t far behind. When she didn’t have money for anything else, she’d drag me into places like this one, and she’d get me to sing. People would give me tips, and then she’d have money for beer. As a reward she bought me potato chips and Coke for dinner.”
Robin was visibly affected. “I think you skipped that story.”
There are plenty of stories I’ve skipped, and Robin has her own. There’s nothing to be gained by recounting every rotten detail of our pasts.
“I guess I just didn’t think it was that interesting. The cops were called a few times because kids aren’t supposed to be in bars. Bartenders routinely tossed us out, but sometimes they didn’t.”
“So you did the dog and pony show here?”
“Maribeth came to get me after I’d been with my grandparents for a year. They tried to persuade her to stay, get a job, raise me where they could keep an eye on things. I remember hearing a fight about it. I was praying she would listen. They were my father’s parents, not hers, so they didn’t have a lot of clout, but she did hang around awhile before we left. She’d found herself a boyfriend, I think, one of a long string to follow, and she was sure he was going to be my next daddy. I think the two of them brought me here one night and I started to sing along with the music. Maribeth always had the radio on, and even then I knew a lot of songs. She told me to sing louder. That was the first time I sang in public.” The rest of that night was a blank. Blanks are my friends.
“Is
