Decisions by K. Patrick Glover

The old man sat in the dimly lit bar, thinking about his past. He had a lit cigarette in front of him, but it sat untouched in the ashtray and he watched the curls of smoke drift away from it. The bartender eyed him, but did not ask if he wanted a drink. The old man had been coming into the bar every day for a month now, and it was always the same. He’d light a cigarette, but not smoke it. He’d stare at the bottles behind the wall and his eyes would drift into the past. He never ordered a drink.

Until today. “Scotch, please. Neat.”

The bartender nodded and poured his drink.

“What’s your name, son?” The old man asked.

“Eddie.” He said it hesitantly, unsure how much he wanted to reveal to the old man.

“It’s all about choices, wouldn’t you say, Eddie?”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

The old man chuckled. It was a dry, rasping, hideous noise. “Every step of the way, Eddie. Every choice we make, it defines who we are. Like that girl in Austin, back in ‘62. That could have worked out differently. It was my choice, you know. I choose the bottle. Son, I always choose the bottle.

“I had a son, once, long time ago. Wasn’t worth much, but that was probably my fault. Killed himself over a woman. Probably for the best. Like I said, he wasn’t worth much. Saved me the trouble.”

“The Trouble?” Eddie was getting more and more uneasy.

“Then there was that hooker in Reno. Such a shame, really. Pretty girl.”

“I’m not sure I understand this, sir.”

“They’re dead, Eddie. They’re all dead. Decisions, Decisions.”

“How do you make such an awful decision,” Eddie gasped.

“Well, son,” the old man smiled, “the scotch usually helps.”

And Eddie noticed the long handled knife that now lay atop the bar…..