For the first time since I could remember I was feeling like I belonged. Maybe it was
some true to that huge insert in the brochure (LIFE STARTS HERE). Hell I was sitting at
a saloon (bar) with spa apparel on drinking pinot, and about to have lunch. I laughed inside
with thoughts of my father, and grandnana killing over, if they only knew. I’m sure by now
my father is at my apartment smearing Holy oil all over the place, and without a doubt his
co-conspiracy (my grandnana) is right beside him screaming and shouting the name of Jesus
“So have you decided?”
“I’m stepping out the box; what do you suggest?”
“We have a wonderful goat cheese mumala, and a salmon topped with white cream
purthea. It's indescribable good. They both pair very well with pinot grigio.”
“Mmm, I’ll have it. And another glass of wine please, this time let’s try the one from
“Thanks for the suggestions. This one is good too, kind of airy.”
“Yes, excellent choice; most people comparison is the same light, and perky after every
“Yea, light.” I wanted to scream and pronounce to the world (that I was having the best
time ever.) However I didn’t want to scare those old fogies sitting to my left. The food was
amazing, I sought to ask the bartender did he work here just for a living, or did he work
here for the luxury. I’ll question him about the food then I’ll know.
“Is this salmon independent?”
“Independent, I haven’t been asked this question in about ten years. What do you know
about independent salmon?”
“My father and grandnana are connoisseurs of good food, and wines.
“Where do you think the fish came from?” Bartender asked.
“You’re smart and sly hun? I think your trying to do to me what I was about to mildly
do to you? I’m hundred percent sure the salmon was flown from Alaska.”
“You could have goggled that.”
“I told you my father, and grandnana are connoisseurs of good food, and wines.”
“Okay, so where do you think the mumala and goat cheese is from?”
“I don’t know where the mumala came from, but I think for a upscale retreat such as
this one the goat cheese had to come from none other than the French Rhone Alps.”
“Get out of here, your either a food critique, or you’ve been here before.” He exclaimed.
“If I were a food critique I wouldn’t be sitting here with spa-wear on. In all honesty this
is my first time here. I’ll have another pinot grigio from Santa Barbara please.” I laughed,
and he smiled.
“Coming right up,”
I was having a merry time, but I should have known it would be short lived.
“Is someone sitting here?” Elderly woman asked.
“No, what can I get for you?”
I breathed aloud. “No disrespect, but do you really have to sit right next to me.”
“Do you really have to sit here?”
“Yes! The view of the ocean is spectacular from right here.”
I quickly turned my plate, and my body to look at the ocean view.
“I’m sorry, if I’m restless to look upon.”
“Let’s not!” I can show you restless to look upon. I exclaimed. The bartender swiftly
walked away to serve the two old fogies. He returned quickly with laughter.”
“What’s so funny?” Elderly lady asked.
“Those brothers are having the best time of their life, their reminiscing about their
faith, youthfulness, parents, siblings, wives, children, and grandchildren. I was laughing,
because they bet me a two dollar bill that you two ladies could very well fit comfortable in
their life story.”
"I don’t gamble.” I exclaimed.
“Who asked you to gamble?” Bartender asked.
“For the record, I’m not here to befriend anyone.”
“It doesn’t seem that way to me.” Elderly lady replied.
“You don’t know me!”
“You don’t have to personally know someone to be familiar with their sorrow. For
sorrow is friend to everyone when you know its sorrow. Also when people want to be left
alone they don’t come in places where being alone is prohibited.”
“Are you kidding me? Who are you to tell me what's phohibted?”
“I know your sorrow.”
“You don’t know me!”
“Ladies, ladies.” We both looked at him with our mouths open.”
“How about some dessert?”
“Can I order the same food that she has, even the left overs look scrumptious?”
I breathed aloud, and likewise she did.
“You want regret it." Bartender replied.
I wasn’t about to let her take away my soon to be friend, and our joy. So I slowly turned
my barstool around to view the ocean again.
“What’s your name?” Elderly lady asked the bartender.
“Tolden!” I exclaimed, while turning my barstool to face him.
“Yea, I know. My parents named me Tolden, because they were “told” they would never
“How symbolic is that.” Elderly lady replied.
“Tell me about it. I was the joke of the jokester, and the teased of the teasers.”
“Yada, yada, yad. I don't see anything symbolic in naming a child after the word told.”
“So is your name Yada, Yada, Yad?” Elderly lady asked.
My eyebrows lifted up, my nose spread wide. I was about to tell her a thing or two
seeing she was being rather sarcastic. As I slowly parted my lips open Tolden quickly
diverted the conversation.
“What’s your name?” Bartender asked the elderly woman.
“Mrs. GenevaAnn Lexicoten Creedenwasser.”
“That’s an interesting name.”
“I was named after my dear grandmother Geneva, my father sister Ann, my maden
name is Lexicoten, and my dead husband was the very well-known late Mr.
I was starting to feel a little tipsy and agitated at the same time. If only she knew no one
cared who her late husband was, and no one cares who she is. I’m going to have one more
wine, and hopefully I can get Mr. Tolden to bring me a night-cap in my room.
“Wow!” So what’s your name?” Bartender asked.
“My name is Onyx.”
“I assume you were named after someone’s birthstone, or birthday hun?”
“My mommy birthstone is onyx. This name was cursed for me the day I was born. Life
would’ve been so much easier for me if that same disease that eaten mommy wouldv'e
eaten me while I was in surgery.” Mrs.GenevaAnn mouth opened as wide as that ocean. She
was mortified about to spill with tears.
“I’m sorry for you lost. So sorry!” She replied.
“It’s fine, I never knew it was a lost, until I noticed that other people had what I didn’t
have.” They both gazed upon me with sorrow. Tolden immediately changed the subject.
“Mrs. GenevaAnn would you like dessert?”
“What do you suggest?”
“The caramel raspberry crepe is excellent.”
“We’ll have two.”
"No thank you. I don’t indulge on sweets at cocktail time.”
“Who’s rule is that?” Mrs. GenevaAnn asked with laughter.
“Thank you, but no thank you.”
“Two coming right up.” Tolden replied.
“Another tunic water for me please.”
There was no reason for me to continue on fighting with these two about a stupid crepe,
so I succumbed, and had a bite. It was to die for. The evening was quickly seeping into the
night, and I was feeling as good as Marilyn Monroe when she song happy birthday to her
Mr. President. So I decided to do a quick rendition, if it worked for her president just
maybe it’ll work for my bartender. I stood on the bar, and song in an undertone “Happy
Birthday Mr. Tolden! Happy birthday Mr. Tolden! Happy birthday too you Mr.
Toldennnnnn!” I imagined the back of my rob sweeping me away, nevertheless I was
about to fall off the bar. There was Tolden to the rescue, he quickly lifted me down onto
the floor. Strangely I was impressed with standing ovations, instead of being
embarrassment. I was flattered to say the least, even Mrs. GenevaAnn was laughing with
overflow, while slowly encroaching upon my vulnerability.
“Onyx, you’re not alone.”
“Here we go again. You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that. I’m going to say
to you what I have so many times, what difference does it make if I feel like I’m alone. I
need someone to show me how to stop the feelings of being alone.”
“I can only tell you that being and feeling alone is a state of existence in which we all
have the innate power to conquer, when we willing accept the power of God that resides in
all of us.”
“Mrs. GenevaAnn, are you some kind of spiritualist, or a therapist?” She laughed aloud.
“I'm just Mrs. GenevaAnn sharing with you about the God in me, that keeps me from
feeling or being alone.”
“Tolden what is your perspective on being alone. Is it the God in you as well?” I asked
“I was taught early on that I was never alone. The scenic view of this world proves that
to me every- day that I am not alone. Even in my times of feeling alone I take solace in my
creators scenic view.”
“I agree.” Mrs. GenevaAnn replied.
“That’s a bunch of hog wash turning into bull crap!”
“Onyx you are something else. It’s a matter of perspective, wouldn’t you say Mrs.
“It’s a matter of truth for me.”
“Are you kidding me? I exclaimed.
“Yes, the universe as a whole proves to me that I’m not alone.”
“Preach it Tolden, preach it.”
I swiveled my barstool again, because looking at the ocean beating up against the earth
was far more interesting.
“I’m not preaching Mrs. GenevaAnn.”
“Yes you are: preaching is only sharing of wisdom. Okay.”
“Your right Tolden, that’s not preaching its bartender games, or some kind of retreat
hoax to get us into therapy while we’re here.” I was starting to feel like I had been duped.
I walked over to the piano aggressively grabbed the mic out of the pianist hand and loudly,
and proudly shouted.
“This better not be a hoax to get me back into therapy, because if it is I’ll shut this place
down butt-holes.” These people were nuts all in unison they clapped, and cheered me
along with laughter. Just maybe I was at the funny farm of money. I went back to the bar,
and ordered another grigio, and at this point I didn’t give a hoot where it derived from.”
“This is a retreat, not a funny farm.” Tolden said.
“One more tonic water please, and then I’m going to my room to entertain my friends.”
“Oh, you’re not alone?” Tolden asked.
“According to you even my orchids are my friends.” Everyone laughed.
“I’m going to be leaving as well. “Tolden will you be bringing me a night-cap later?”
“I’ll definitely be checking on you later.”
“Here goes that bartender talk again; you don’t even have my room number.”
“Believe me, it’s not that hard to get.”
“It’s been nice, goodnight."
I didn’t say one word to Mrs. GenevaAnn, I got up graceful from the stool staggering in
all. God only knows how I made it to my room.
Causes Susie Hill Supports
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