Fig gets some "Me Time"

Fig and I had talked after lunch about Anya and Mario and the temporary living arrangements. I was worried about Fig, trying to show her that she wasn't alone because I knew how heavy the current situation was. She was surprising me though. Usually, she'd be ranting and raving like an emotionally distraught drama queen --- but she wasn't. It was like she had put her "proverbial cross" in some hidden vault, and was wearing a necklace with a graceful swan charm instead.

"I know you're going to be great with Anya," she told me, then added, "Uncle Georgio should be out of the hospital by the end of the week and we'll deal with the house then."

She took a shower in my tiny bathroom and changed her clothes. Then after the sunlight was gone and the night sky took over, she called for a cab.

"I could drive you to wherever you want to go," I told her confused about why she wanted to spend the money on a cab.

"Nah," she shrugged, "I feel like pretending I'm independent."

The cab arrived, and Fig took off. I ordered a pizza for Anya and I to eat for dinner and turned the television on.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked Fig.

"The closest pub you know of," she said, and he drove on.

The cab pulled up to a little dive bar that Fig hadn't been to before. She paid her fare, got out of the cab and walked into the bar.

She looked around as she walked through the front door. It wasn't as divy as she thought when she'd seen it from the outside. It was actually very nice inside. Standard, yet vibrant. Small, but not crowded. Clean, but relaxed. She was satisfied as she found a seat and waited for the bartender to attend to her. She had no idea what to drink. She had mostly given up bar life since her pregnancy with Mario. She thought about that for a moment. Seven years had passed so quickly. She remembered being pregnant. She remembered when she first met me at a bar on her 21st birthday. She had other random memories float through her mind until the bartender stood before her smiling and Fig just ordered the first thing that came to her mind.

"Budweiser?"

The bartender brought her a glass filled with beer and Fig tipped her generously. Fig was never that fond of beer, but she did like the cliche "When in Rome....". Though this bar didn't resemble anything Roman. It wasn't shiny with marble floors and sculptures. It was typical and friendly like the pubs they show in British soap operas.

Fig took a sip of her beer and looked around at all the decor. Then she heard a man on a microphone and looked to see him standing on a small stage meant for karaoke. The man sang a song with a pleasing voice and Fig thought about the times when she had enough gumption to sing on the karaoke stage. Memories flooded her mind again as she listened to the man sing. She thought about the differences between a night of bar karaoke and a night at some big concert hall.

As the karaoke concert continued, Fig continued to sit alone and sip on her beer, sifting through many thoughts and feelings. She thought about her kids and she thought about her Uncle. She thought about the house and she thought about money. She thought about her friends and wondered how everyone else was recovering from the storm. She thought about the past and tried to think about the future. Future? The word irritated her. The past was very clear, but the future wasn't. The "future" just seemed like some impossible concept.

Another man walked into the bar and sat down in the chair right next to Fig. Fig wondered if she should wait for him to talk to her or if she should be the first to start a conversation.

"Hi," he said as he waited for the bartender.

Fig smiled, happy to be acknowledged, raised her glass to him and replied politely, "Hi."

"Hey Crazy," the bartender said to the man as she brought him a drink.

He smiled at the bartender.

"What's your name?" he asked Fig.

"Um, Fig," Fig splurted out.

"Nice to meet you Fig, I'm Crazy," he said then took a sip of his drink.

"I suppose you acquired that name after you decided you didn't like your birthname, right?" Fig asked hoping that no mother would actually name their child "Crazy".

He snickered a bit knowingly.

"Something like that," he agreed.

Fig and Crazy sat there drinking and listening to the karaoke concert.

Right as Fig was finishing her drink, someone decided to sing an old Billy Joel song "Piano Man".

........"they're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone".........