A story written by Sandie May Joyce (Sandie Angel)
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Chapter 1
Tony's Corner
"Tony's Corner" is a friendly place where almost everyone knows everyone. It is situated in Toronto's downtown neon district where many bar-hopping happy people gather daily. The owner is from Greece, a short, chubby looking man whom we all call Tony. Tony treats all his patrons as if they were his children. It is nice in a way because we all feel like we belong here, and that Tony's Corner has become our second home.
Mike came in an hour ago, and now he is drunk already. He is about to become bitter once again, and about to tear this place apart!
"Poor Mike! There he goes again! He's drunk! Guess he'll be looking for that woman soon." Johnny Page sighed. Johnny is my neighbour. He was the very first person that I made friends with when I first moved into this neighbourhood two months ago. He's 24, about my age, but quite the "nerdy" looking kid! He is short, his hair parts on the left always combed so neatly as if it's cemented on his head. He wears a pair of dark-rimmed glasses.
"What woman?" I asked him.
"The woman on the beach," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "he's obsessed with her."
"Who is this woman? Have you seen her?" I truly was quite curious.
"Nah! Haven't seen her. None of us has ever seen her. I only know that one night Mike got really drunk here at the bar because he had an argument with his wife at home, then he went for a walk by the beach afterward. The next day he came in here telling us all about some “wonderful woman” he met on the beach. The way he described her – it was as if she were out-of-this-world-hot! Johnny could barely contain his amusement at the thought of the slob with a goddess beauty-type. He let out a loud boisterous laughter that attracted more than a few lingering glances. “You should have been here to hear him! He’s totally nuts!!!"
"Ah, forget it, kids! You don't want to know, otherwise, you're going to end up just as crazy as he is. I'm not kidding you! Mike spent two years in a mental institution," Old Grandpa Jack lisped, the wind hissing through the holes left behind where decaying teeth used to be.
Old Grandpa Jack is the oldest among us. He must be in his 70's, but he is still drinking and smoking like his life depends upon it. His hair has now gone all gray, his face is filled with wrinkles, and sometimes he smells like he hasn't shaved or bathed himself for days.
"He's been in the mental institution for a couple of years." Old Grandpa Jack repeated. "They let him out just recently because there were shortage beds, they said. Apparently, they think that he wasn't crazy enough to stay there. I doubt if he's okay. Just looked at the state of him!"
Mike, who was standing by the bar, had tears running down now from his eyes. He was drinking and crying, calling out to a woman named Angeline. He held up his glass, took one big gulp down his throat and asked the bartender for more.
"Another round, Joey!" Mike said.
"Hey, buddy! Don't you think you have enough now? I think it's time for you to go home," Joey warned from behind the bar. It was a side-gig for the full-time bookkeeper. One that, on a good night – like tonight, when drunks like Mike are in the house – made him a decent amount of coin in tips. If only the poor guy knew his limit! Mike is what they like to call an angry drunk. A loud, abusive, angry drunk.
"One more round! Damn it! Fill it up!" Mike growled from his usual spot at the end of the bar. Even though he had tears in his eyes, he was itching for a fight.
"I just need one more round damn it! Wass da madda’ kid? Don't you understand Engliss? You don't think I haf da money to pay you?" he was slurring now. What a pitiful sight!
I got up from my chair and was about to go over to the bar, but I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back. It was Old Grandpa Jack, warning me to sit down and mind my own business.
"Be careful, you don't know whether he's crazy or he's just drunk. You can't take any chances. He might hurt you bad. Just let the bouncers handle him. They are getting paid to do their jobs."
Before Old Grandpa Jack’s patented lisp could leave his mouth, I saw from the corner of my eye, two bouncers manhandling a kicking and screaming Mike all the way to the front door, where the feisty Mike was promptly shown the exit.
We continued on sitting in the bar for about another half hour, fully expecting, yet not witnessing a plastered Mike stumbling his way back in. I wondered how he was doing out there.
"I think I'm going to go outside for some fresh air," I said to Grandpa Jack and Johnny as if to ask for their permission.
"I'll go with you," said good old Steve Freeman, the neighborhood do-gooder. Steve has been a staple of our little boys' club here at Tony's for years now, ever since he jumped off the plane from South Africa (that's what I've come to know from Grandpa Jack). Even though he was the only man with black skin in a hundred mile radius, he fit right in with us the honkies, even at 30 – a child, really – a brave child with an old soul.
"You guys be very careful! Don't say I didn't warn you about Mike," old Grandpa Jack said.
Undeterred, Steve and I got up from our chairs and walked outside to check on Mike. What a vision! There he was, bent over the curb by the 7-11, puking his guts out.
"Hey, buddy! You alright?" I called out to him.
Mid-retch, Mike spun around and saw Steve and I, standing strong in his vertigo gaze. His eyes lit up. I Guess he was glad that we came out for him.
"Gosh, I feel bad!" He said.
"That Joey guy is r-e-a-l stupid! He coulda made more money. He prolly thought I had no money to pay him. R-e-a-l stupid kid!" He was still slurring some of his speech but it seemed hacking his guts out made Mike at the very least understandable. Just perhaps not logical:
"He was just doing his job. They think you should go home," I insisted.
"Ha! Go home? Go home to where? Where is my home?" he said.
"What do you mean? Where do you live? Steve and I will take you home," I said.
"What for? I don' have anybody waiting for me now. My ole lady filed for divorce when I was locked up in the looney bin. Some women, you can't trust them!" Mike said. He sounded quite sane to me so far.
"Well, if you wish to go home," Steve said, "We'll take you home."
"I won't be stayin’ on no street, don' worry! Angeline is waiting for me by the beach. I am goin’ there to meet her. She promised me she will be waitin’ for me there." Okay, that sounded a little crazy. Maybe his “ole lady” had a reason for locking him up.
"Sshh...Listen!" Mike whispered. "Can you hear it?" He tilted his head to one side.
"Can you hear it?" He asked again, cocked his ear behind one cracked, cuffed hand.
"Hear what?" I looked at Steve. "I don't hear anything." Steve tilted his head the way Mike did.
"I didn't hear anything either. What Mike? What is it?" Steve asked.
"There! She's callin’ me. She's callin’ me. She's callin’ me to go down there to the beach to meet her. She's waitin’ for me," Mike insisted. "Listen!" he motioned with a batting hand for us to be quiet.
We all kept quiet for a moment. Steve and I looked at each other, but we heard NOTHING!
We tilted our heads up to one side just like Mike did, but we still couldn't hear anything.
"No, we can't hear anything, Mike. What does she say? What is Angeline saying?" I asked.
"She's singing a song," Mike said.
"Go on then, how does the song go? Sing it for us! Don't be selfish!" Steve said smiling, pretending to be interested.
"She's singing our song!” Mike began:
Michael, Michael, come to me,
I am the maiden of the sea.
I've swum across the ocean,
And I've swum across the sea.
'Til I've found you, Michael,
Then we'll be as happy as can be.
Michael, Michael, where can you be?
I have found you,
but they took you away from me.
Michael, Michael, where can you be?
Michael, Michael, please come back to me."
"Ah yes," Steve said. I looked at him. I was surprised. Then he winked his eye so I knew what he meant.
"So, is that the woman on the beach who sings to you?" Steve asked Mike.
"Yes, that's her. You can hear it too now, right? I've got to go down to the beach now. She's there now! She's there waiting for me!" Mike said anxiously.
"Wait, wait, Mike, I don't think she wants you to go there tonight," I said.
"Don't worry, I'll find my way, I know it well!" Mike insisted and began to walk away from us.
Strange – with the jaunty gait in his step, it seemed like Mike wasn’t even drunk at all.
A captivating beginning! It keeps me focused. I felt like I was there in the bar as well watching all that is happening. Sounds like a great story to be.
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