The Last Word

Jack watched the traffic fly by in a blur while his thoughts matched pace. What could tomorrow possibly bring that has not already been ruined by today? Where does one go when they have lost everything? Is jumping into this raging river of steel and glass the best way forward? He stood transfixed and frozen by his nihilistic debate.

Life had not been kind to him, taking his job, his wife, and now his home as a sacrificial tribute to a world that had forgotten and forsaken him. He spent the day walking through the city, seeking any sign that his fate had not abandoned him. Night was falling and the thought of his world ending that evening had begun to reach a seductive crescendo. He had already searched for his answers at the bottom of a glass in six different bars, but he found no answers, only more questions.

Staring at the cold, puddling pavement reflecting the bright lights of the city around him, Jack began to dwell on his existential relevance. What impact could he possibly make in the world? The world had most assuredly made an impact on him, like a canoe cast upon the open ocean. Did he even matter?

Just as his thoughts began to return to that dark place, Jack saw a sign he had not noticed before. The old tin sign was easy to miss, being faded from age and sporting none of the glitzy neon lights that the business around it had adopted. Through the fading paint, Jack could make out what he assumed was the name of the establishment: The Last Word. The entrance was a set of stairs down to a cellar access, exuding the vibe of a dive bar hidden from the world. He figured the name said it all. If he could not find his answers here, then that would be answer enough for him.

The establishment itself had the feel of a speakeasy lost to time. A long polished wood bar stretched down a brick, barrel coffered cavern toward a grouping of small, round café tables and a short, modest stage. The brass fixtures throughout the bar were well maintained and helped reflect the dim lighting in such a way as to make the whole place feel like a scene ripped from the 1920’s or ‘30’s with delicate care. The bar tender was a small man, dressed in a classic bartender’s apron and a dingy white button up with the sleeves rolled up as if to show that he works for a living. His age was hard for Jack to glean, the clothes suggesting that he was of an older generation, but his general look seemed middle-aged at most.

A young man sat on the edge of the stage, cleaning and warming up a fine trumpet. The dapper man wore a fine white shirt with tan linen slacks held up with thin brown leather suspenders, all of which perfectly complimented his chocolate complexion. A tan fedora rested effortlessly on the man’s brow as if it were a part of him. He was alone, but it did not seem to bother him at all. A stage light shown down on the man like a sunbeam through a breaking cloud.

Jack took note of the set up on the stage, arrayed in a picturesque jazz club arrangement. His interest was piqued, giving him more solid direction than any feeling he had all day. He moved his way through the bar toward the trumpeter and pulled up a chair at the closest table to the stage. The jazz man glanced up from under the narrow brim of his hat and gave a warm smile.

“Well now, it’s time we had an audience,” The musician quipped in a sly tone. “And one so eager, too. Most people sit off in the wings and tell all their friends they listened to the band play, but really they’re all too focused on themselves to hear a damn thing that comes from this stage”. The man tapped the brim of his fedora with a wink. “Name’s Gabe”.

“Ah-um,” Jack stuttered, attempting to remember how to form a sentence. “Jack”.

“Pleased to meet ya, Ah-um Jack,” Gabe gave a wide, warm smile. “Mind if I call ya Jack? Just feels better, no offense”.

Jack shook his head to shake off the mild embarrassment of his first impression and smiled back. “No offense at all. I think you may be right,” Jack shrugged. “It does feel better”. Gabe’s warmth seemed to brighten Jack’s mood a bit, enough at least for him to relax. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the stage again. “Where’s the rest of the band?”

Gabe glanced over his shoulder at the stage before turning back to Jack. “Oh, they’ll ride in soon,” He grinned, lifting his pinched thumb and forefinger to his lips. “After they’re done firing it up, you know. While we’re waitin’, what brings a cat like you down into our humble alley?”

The question brought Jack’s reality rushing back to him. His eyes grew dark and heavy, and his gaze sank to the floor. “My world is over,” His words fell out just above a whisper. “I have no idea what to do next, where to go…I can’t even see tomorrow when I close my eyes”.

Gabe nodded, seemingly unfazed by the revelation Jack had provided. “I know how that goes. As it happens, Jack, you may be more right than you know. Crazy things are happening all around us. It makes sense crazy things would be happening in your home too,” Gabe held up his trumpet, fingering the keys a bit. “It’s a lot like Jazz. The music in the musician matches the music in the instrument, which in turn matches the music felt in the very soul of the audience; same goes the other way ’round: what happens in the soul of the world helps shape the sound of the instrument and in turn the spirit of the player”.

The words seemed profound to Jack, though his fuzzy head was having a hard time fully processing their meaning. He gave Gabe a focused yet perplexed look, one that both conveyed his hungry desire for more truth yet his ignorance to the true meaning of it. Gabe laughed and swung a hand to the bartender.

“Hey Christopher, Jack here needs some juice,” Gabe shouted out. “Might not be bad to keep ‘em coming so we don’t waste our flow tonight on a mind not ready to feel it”.

Crack-sssssss

The sound of a bottle cap being pulled off a longneck seemed to resonate throughout the bar as if no other noise were present. The gravity of the broken seals tone seemed to strike Jack in the chest and brought his mind into sharp focus. He sat up and looked back just as the bartender silently approached the table and offered him a brown glass bottle.

The label looked like an old timey scroll with a lamb printed on it. Jack regarded it for a moment and took a sip. The beer was thick and robust in flavor, both carrying a deep stout bitterness yet a smooth refreshing aftertaste. It hit quick, yet it made Jack feel alert and motivated to take on the world rather than the bogged down feeling that his previous libations had warranted him.

“Whatcha tellin’ this boy, Gabe,” A voice broke the near silence as a flashy man in a white linen suit entered from the back of the bar. The man wore a fedora, similar to Gabe’s only white with a gold crown shaped hat pin attached to the ribbon around the base of the hat. He carried a large black case, which Jack quickly recognized as a bass cello. The man weaved through the café tables and headed to his spot on the stage before opening the case and beginning to set up his instrument. “Fillin’ his mind with all that jazz is the soul of the world and the world is the soul of jazz business?”

Gabe grinned and shook his head. “Glad you could join us, Alex,” Gabe chuckled. “Jack here is havin’ an end of the world kinda day”.

Jack looked up at the bassist as the man took his bow out of his case and ran it across the strings in a quick rise and fall of the scales before tossing the bow back into the case and finger plucking the strings. Alex looked Jack over for a moment before letting out a boisterous and commanding laugh. “Shiiiit, aren’t we all,“ He chuckled. “Have you seen everything that’s goin’ on out there? Big men tryin’ to be kings in all but name, big countries tryin’ to take over little countries…hell, all these insta-toks and face-spaces or whatever they’re called takin’ over people’s lives, tellin’ ‘em what to think and what to believe and what to buy. If that ain’t a sign of the end times, I don’t know what is”.

Jack was struck by the exchange, engrossed in all of the motions and words of the two men. He went to take another sip of his beer and found that he had already consumed the whole bottle. The realization of the empty drink made him wonder how much time had actually passed. He glanced around for a clock and spotted one above the bar. It was an old, brass framed analog clock, the intricate hands indicating 11:58:20. Jack shook his head, trying to work out if the time was right. He could have sworn it was later than that before he entered the bar.

Crack-sssssss

The herald of another bottle being opened snapped Jack out of his contemplation. It seemed to echo throughout the bar, demanding attention. He looked up to see the bartender handing him the newly opened bottle and taking the empty one away. Jack stopped for a moment, considering the bottle before turning back to the stage and taking a sip. The flavor was spicier than it had been previously, with a hard kick that sent heat flying up the back of Jack’s neck. He quickly pulled back and surveyed the label, which proved to be the same as before.

“Ha, the young cat’s cream is kickin’ him in the teeth,” a new voice cackled. Jack looked up and noticed a dark man sitting behind the drums, spinning a stick in one hand and tapping a quick beat on the ground with a foot clad in a shiny red shoe. The man was in a red-brown suit, the jacket hanging in a zoot style. He pushed up the wide brim of his hat with a drumstick before pointing the stick like a rapier at Jack. “Sure he’s old enough? Heh, fans are no good if they pass out before the show, baby”.

Gabe swung a dismissive hand at the drummer before turning back to Jack. “Jackie boy here is cool, Jules,” Gabe tossed out with a smile. “He’s just havin’ an end of the world crisis”.

“Ah, he’s got that chaos goin’ through him, yea?” Jules quickly beat out a drum rhythm that filled Jack with feelings of excitement, rage, passion, and anticipation. The drummer’s hands deftly moved around the drum set like a wizards hands over a magic cauldron, each beat reaching deeper into Jack’s body, making his heartbeat match the vibrations. Jules ended the impromptu solo with a quick splash of the cymbal and spun the stick between his two fingers with a grin. “Join the club, Jack. Everybody hates everybody else these days. Black versus white, red versus blue, sharp versus dull, boy versus girl, rich versus poor, have versus have not, young versus old, it is all out war, baby”. The man punctuated his statement with a lively rim shot, pointing his stick back at Jack with a wide, toothy laugh. “Get that boy another drink”.

Jack lowered the bottle from his lips and noticed he had pulled the last drop from it. He could not believe it, even with the spicy, electric taste heavily lingering on his tongue and throat. He quickly glanced back at the old clock and found the hands still pointing at 11:58:20. He looked back at the bottle in his hand and studied it hard. How could he have possibly consumed it that fast?

Crack-sssssss

The world seemed to pause as the sound of another bottle being opened filled the space, hissing through Jack’s ears as if it were right next to them. Without looking away from the bottle in his hands, Jack saw the empty bottle lifted away and a new, cold bottle slipped into his palm. He did not hesitate; he tipped the bottle back and let the liquid rush past his lips. His immediate urge was to spit it out, but he let the liquid linger before swallowing hard. It tasted…empty, hollow, yet putrid all the same. As the liquid made its way down his throat and into his stomach, he could feel his stomach ache and growl as if starved for sustenance. Jack gave a sour look up at the band members, looking for some distraction from the horrid feeling sloshing around his gut.

Footsteps echoed behind Jack, accompanied by the sloshing of wine in a bottle. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a gaunt man in a black suit and pork pie hat, sauntering through the bar toward the stage. In the man’s left hand was an open bottle of wine, half-empty, that the man occasionally lifted to his lips to take a modest sip. The man in black slowly worked his way up to the piano and lowered himself down on the bench, taking a passive glance at the assembled group before turning his attention toward Jack.

“I just saw a loaf of wheat bread that cost four dollars,” the man slowly spoke, seemingly addressing his bandmates, though his gaze remained on Jack. “Four dollars. Can you believe that?”

“Everything is getting expensive, Louis,” Gabe responded as he pulled a mute from a case behind him and fit it into the bell of his trumpet. “Not that you ever notice since we are always coverin’ your tab”. The whole group burst into laughter, including the piano player whose laugh seemed more subdued while remaining mirthful.

“You can’t tell me it don’t worry you that everything is becoming too expensive, all while fields are growin’ barren and storms are tearing the world apart,” Louis mused before taking another tiny sip from his wine. He placed the bottle on top of the piano and ran his hand down the keys before tapping out a haunting Moonlight Sonata. “The Earth is getting hotter, the food is getting emptier, disease is spreading everywhere and there is no end in sight”.

“Be careful with that kinda talk, baby,” Jules chimed in. “Some people will be ready to fight you for talkin’ like that. All that global warmin’ talk and pandemic talk. Some might call you crazy”.

“Ya see now, that is just what all those social medias and talkin’ heads keep coughin’ up,” Alex piped in with a wild hand in the air. “All those strongmen tellin’ everybody that truth ain’t truth, and the only news that’s real comes from some square with a letter for name. Now no one knows what to believe or think so we all just sit here waitin’ for the music to end”.

“And apparently pay four dollars for a loaf of bread,” Gabe quipped with a grin. There was a pause in the conversation before the band burst out laughing once more. Gabe gave Jack another glance and flashed a smile. “Pretty quiet there, Jack. How did that last beer suit you?”

Jack grimaced as he continued to feel the wretched sludge permeate his mouth and gut with a sickeningly empty feeling. He glanced at the bottle, which was mercifully empty. “That was disgusting. It would honestly make me forget anythin-”

Crack-sssssss

Jack glanced toward the bartender who handed him another bottle. He fought off a retching feeling as he thought about the last bottle and prayed silently that this next one would be better. It was cold, extremely so, to the point where it almost hurt him to hold. He took a sip and immediately felt a heavy feeling over his body. His vision grew dark and he could feel his breath grow shallow. A tear welled out of his eye and quickly streaked down his check. He could barely move and the only thought running through his head was that it was all over. After a long frozen moment, he took in a deep breath and sat back.

“Ole Chris, bringin’ out the good shit,” A deep voice echoed from the shadowy alcove behind the stage, followed by the click-clack of a piece of wood being transferred from one side of the person’s mouth to the other. A man stepped out in a green jacket with sickly grey loafers. A saxophone hung around his neck and a reed poked out of his mouth. He was dark like the shadows around him, but he seemed to carry a calmness about his demeanor, like the stillness before sleep. “You’re gonna need it if you keep listening to these birds cluck. Who’s the fish, swimmin’ his way through those bottles?”

Gabe glanced up at the newcomer with a smile. “This here is Jack. His world is ending and he’s come here to listen to us play,” Gabe stood up from his seat on the edge of the stage and made his way over to the stool set up for him. “So why don’t you pull that popsicle stick out your mouth, Sammy, and get ready to oblige”.

The sax player eyed Jack for a long moment, switching the reed from one side of his mouth to the other before cracking a wide smile. “Well now, the world ending is a very familiar jive. The world is dying all around us, yet no one seems to see it,” Sammy slipped the reed from his lips and clipped it into the mouthpiece of his sax. “Here’s to those of us who are keeping count, and here’s to those who have suffered for our sins”.

Sammy lifted the sax to his lips and laid out a beautifully haunting tune that seemed to reach down into Jack’s gut and pull up a wave of emotion causing him to break from the cold paralysis brought on by the drink. He thought of everything he had lost, his girlfriend, his job, his home. As the smooth bass notes of the sax continued to call to him, his thoughts shifted to what sacrifices and losses had been felt throughout the world and how they compared to his.

Crack-sssssss

Jack did not resist taking the new bottle from the bartender’s hand. He lifted it to his lips and immediately felt a rush of emotion and grief. The taste was bitter to start but evolved into a sweet spice and finally a mellow cool like mint. His chest tightened as names passed through his mind like unspoken lyrics to the sweet dirge Sammy was weaving, names of those who had been needlessly lost to sickness, hate, injustice, and disaster. As he mouthed the names, he felt a fire begin to fill his heart and soul, dancing to the rising tone of the music coming from the stage. Louis’ fingers began to dance across the piano keys, followed by Jules’ even drumbeat and Alex’s strumming bass. Jack glanced up to the band, who was in full flow, and let the tears begin to stream across his face. Gabe smiled down at him with a knowing nod.

Crack-sssssss

The whole room suddenly went dark. The only thing Jack could sense in that moment was the rising crescendo of the band and the cool bottle being placed into his hand. He no longer questioned the strangeness of the evening, accepting that this night would change his life. He tipped back the bottle and chugged the contents. The drink was harsh and hard to swallow but the following taste was a burst of flavors, complex and overwhelming at first and then clearing into an exciting and energizing after burn. Jack felt his body buzzing and trembling with electric intensity. The shaking of his body grew to the point that it felt like he was experiencing an intense earthquake. The muted sound of Gabe’s trumpet joined the intense cacophony.

The stage lights blazed, only now cast with a cherry red filter, giving the room the look of an inferno. A small mirror ball over Jack’s head cast green lights across the ground, like verdant stars falling from the sky. The intensity and excitement filling him seemed to spark a desire to grow and change, to cast off the heavy shell of depression and despair and move to something he could not identify in that moment.

Crack-sssssss

Everything went silent. Even the faint hint of breathing and heartbeats that would normally fill a quiet room were absent. Jack offered the bottle in his hand to the bartender behind him without taking his eyes away from the stage. A sweet smell of incense and sticky haze filled Jack’s nostrils as he lifted the new bottle to his lips. Gabe stepped forward and removed the mute from his trumpet. Suddenly, the heavy silence was shattered with a catastrophically beautiful note singing from the trumpet. Jack could not isolate the taste of the drink in his hand as the experience merged with the music, the smells, and the dazzling lights to become a singularity of the senses. He felt his world shatter along with his mind and spirit, being remolded into something golden and new as Gabe’s solo reached its crescendo.

The lights went dark once more and there stood another moment of utter silence, leaving Jack in a feeling of total sensory deprivation. After what felt like an eternity, the silence was broken with the chime of the clock above the bar striking midnight. The lights came back up, now the cozy yellow light of the house bulbs. Jack sat, stunned, transfixed on the band that just shook the pillars of heaven.

“Well Jack,” Gabe smiled. “How’s your world now?”

Jack kept his gaze on Gabe, tear tracks glistening along his cheeks. With a slow yet bright smile growing across his face, Jack responded, though whether he was addressing Gabe or himself he was not sure. “Reborn”.

Gabe gave a warm laugh and tapped the brim of his hat with a finger. “The world around you is what you make it. It may crumble and fall from under your feet, but you can build it back up if you truly believe. Remember, the spirit of the world lives in you just like you live in the spirit of the world. Never forget that there is always a new day after the end of the world, it is up to you to decide what that day will look like”.

Jack sat in silence, processing the whole event that played out before him. He smiled and rose to his feet, feeling more alive than he had ever been. He pulled the last bit of cash he had out of his pocket and dropped it into Gabe’s trumpet case. He turned to the bartender who waved his hands as to say, “the drinks were on the house”. Holding his head high, Jack headed out of the bar, the band striking up a hip, upbeat tune as he left. As he stepped out onto the street, he breathed in the warm, wet air, and it was filled with the pregnant energy of a brand new day.