Whiskey, Wine, And All That Jazz

“I’m telling ya boy we ‘as sittin’ right der in dat corner booth eatin’ ‘an I seent it wit ma’ own two eyes!”

His big calloused hands waved toward the booth nearest the kitchen doors and flailed wildly at the bar where Antanios Hanna was currently enjoying a glass of bourbon and the ambiance.

“Dem wine glasses started swayin’ back and forth like so and one of dem flew off’n da rack onto da floor. I seent it wit mah own two eyes!”, he exclaimed, lowering his voice and widening his eyes for effect, the wiry cajun hauled his glass of beer off the table and finished it in an impressive three gulp display sure to drive his point home to his companion.

“You’re full of shit is what you are couillon!” The weathered man in the faded brown rustler jacket didn’t miss a beat as he gathered up his own glass of beer and matched the three gulp guzzle before exclaiming with an impressive belch, “ghost stories in the French quarter are as frequent as a the tides on the black water and about as accurate!”

“And about as true!”, replied the man called couillon.

Antanios smirked and turned back to his own glass slowly running rivers to down to the napkin stuck on the bottom of his bourbon. He had heard many such stories sitting at this particular bar. Indeed, he believed many to be true. La’ Pierres not only had some of the best food in the French Quarter but it also had some of the best live entertainment in all of New Orleans as far as he was concerned. The building itself felt as old as the city, dating to the mid 1860’s, it was originally the home of a famed architect who, legend has it, built it for his French creole, half black slave mistress to raise their illegitimate child in.

The story goes that the architect’s wife was so distraught after learning of the affair she sought the help of a local voodoo priestess who hexed the woman and her son. The events of what happened are not actually known but in the middle of a sultry summer night in 1872, a woman and small child were discovered brutally murdered in the house and the architect, in a fit of distress and anger, tied his wife and three children in a pirogue, rowed it deep into the Louisiana night, and sunk it in the middle of the bayou. He then returned to town and took his own life sitting on the bed where his mistress and son were discovered. The trio now spend eternity together watching over premises and ensuring that their forever after is undisturbed. Sounded more like a love story than a ghost story to Antanios. He did love this place.

From the end of the bar, John the bartender watched as Antanios slowly finished his bourbon, twirling the ice in the bottom and smirking in that good looking way he had. Antanios was not unaware of his attractiveness. His deep green eyes and olive colored skin stretched taught over his Mediterranean features. Perhaps his Lebanese heritage was one of the reasons he loved New Orleans so. Hadn’t he heard many tales from his gran about the times when the French invaded Lebanon with their culture? Of course, it could be the acceptance he felt within the city itself. One of the only southern states to accept free men during slavery, the port had a way of attracting people from all walks of life and from all points of the world. Then, of course, there was the music. Oh, how he enjoyed the music.

“Ready for another Cap’n?”

Antanios smiled mesmerizingly as John swept away his empty glass and replied, “No, not yet, I have a date this evening who should be arriving shortly.”

“John, you know I am a Lieutenant aboard the Andrusia and not the Captain, why do you insist on calling me so?”

John chuckled sweetly as was his way, “Because a good looking, intelligent thing like you won’t play second fiddle for long!” “Can I get you a glass of water while you wait then, Captain?”

Antanios sighed and rolled his eyes over exaggeratively for John’s benefit before agreeing. He loved this place. The service was always fantastic. Not as good as the service on the Andrusia, the luxury cruise ship he crewed, but the service was always more personal. Plus, this bar was amazing. It had been in service for almost 100 years and at times one could smell the spilled whiskey and cigarettes that had blended with the distinct air of this region and had seeped into the varnished wood. Something about the mixture of whatever floated out of the swamps and combined with the sea air of the Gulf of Mexico he found peaceful. Of course, one could not forget the personality of the people. With that thought he returned his attention the two men telling ghost stories at the other end of the bar.

“…weren’t so brave last time we’s in Spooky Bayou now were you?” Couillon was saying as he took a long pull from his rapidly depleting glass of beer.

Antanios smirked again as John returned with his glass of water and whispered, “You know, Cap’n, this place really is haunted. Not a one of us likes to be in here by ourselves any time of the day and I’ve seen more than enough to convince me that ghosts exists.”

Antanios raised his eyebrow seductively, leaned in closer to John and whispered, “I believe you.” John snickered pleasantly as Antanios straightened back up.

“Seen many ghosts out at sea, have you?”

Antanios nodded his head empathetically, “of course my good man, every sailor has a ghost story, and I am no exception!”

“Ha!” exclaimed John, a little too loudly, “Let’s hear it then!”

He really liked Antanios. Not just because he was handsome and exotic, which he most certainly was, but he was well read, intelligent, well spoken, fluent in five languages, and he knew what a good bourbon was. John always hoped to be working when the Andrusia made port if only to see Antanios.

Too bad he wasn’t gay, but he was always so kind and unperturbed at John’s advances it made him a little breathless when those strange green eyes caught his like they were now. Except, there was a seriousness in them, now that drew John closer. Knowing the difference between the bullshit and the serious shit when dealing with bar patrons is one of the things that made him so good at his job. He could tell by the look in Antanios’ eyes that the serious shit was coming.

Instinctively he reached behind the bar and poured Antanios two fingers of his favorite on the rocks. Antanios rewarded him with a kind and knowing smile. Antanios stared into his glass for a moment swirling the bourbon and ice before taking a long deliberate drink. When his eyes met John’s they were swirling like the bourbon in his glass, or the sea in a thunderstorm and he began sharing his tale with the bartender who was drowning in this strange, wonderful man before him.

“I come from a long line of seamen, John. My ancestors hail from the eastern coast of the Mediterranean sea where they fished and traded goods for thousands of years. Our lore is steeped in tradition and my gran’ told many, many tales of ghost ships and apparitions at sea. Ancient tales from before the beginning of Christianity, and as a child I would sit and listen to sea stories for hours, or as long as gran’ would tell them. I was born here John, right here in New Orleans and my dad was a shrimper while mom worked cleaning hotels. They worked hard to make sure I had other opportunities and could do something different with my life, but the sea always called me.”

He took another long sip from his glass before continuing, “All of my life, I knew I wanted to be a sailor. I joined the Navy right out of high school and put myself through college using my GI Bill. That’s how I came to work for Holloday cruise lines.”

“I like being a sailor, and I do hope to be captain of my own ship one day,” those deep green eyes met John’s with a little shimmer of appreciation, “and in 14 years I have witnessed any number of amazing things while at sea.”

Antanios stared down at his hands for a few moments.

“This last trip John, this last trip has…has…made me reevaluate my understanding of my own existence in this life. It started when we were boarding on the first day. This particular cruise was our annual “Lovers Getaway” week.”

“I’ve heard of that” interrupted John. “It’s supposed to be the most romantic 5 days of your life!”

“That is exactly right”, Antanios agreed.

“For most of our guests it is. It is THE premier couples cruise in the industry. Soft lights, soft music, soft sheets. Every activity is about romance. Slow dances, poetry, moonlight walks on the promenade, breakfast in bed. It is like being on one long romantic date. Every event, every port, the goal is romance and love.”

John nodded approvingly as he propped his head on his hand almost wistfully. Antanios sure painted a pretty picture with his cultured voice and dreamy eyes he thought.

Then his eyes shifted, almost fearfully, if only for a moment as another image crossed his mind.

“The day of departure was the first time I saw him”, Antanios’ eyes were fixed on Johns. “He should not have even been there. His name was Rudolph Alexander and he and his wife Corene were booked for their thirty fifth anniversary in one of our finest suites. Except Mr. Alexander showed up alone, holding a picture of his recently departed wife and carrying an urn with her ashes in his luggage.”

“No!”

“Antanios are you telling me a widower showed up for a romantic, couples only cruise with a picture of his wife as his escort!” John was practically on his tiptoes leaning across the bar.

“I’m telling you I allowed him on board against my better judgement and against corporate policy. Couples only. However, I had no way to refund his money, and no heart to deny him passage once he told me he met his wife aboard the Andrusia on a singles cruise and had sailed with us every year for 34 years during our annua Lovers Getaway cruise. This was to be there thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. She had been sick for a while and it was her final wish to spend one last cruise with him before her passing.”

Antanios swirled his glass again before finishing the last of his drink. “She didn’t make it.”

Johns eyes never left his as he took the glass and refreshed it before Antanios resumed.

“Like I said, it’s against corporate policy for singles to sail with us during Lovers Getaway so I conferred with the Captain and we discussed it with Mr. Alexander, but honestly John, how could we say no?”

“Mr. Alexander promised to be no problem, he simply wanted to spread her ashes out at sea as a final farewell and the Captain and I agreed to let him board. For the first few days his steward says he stayed pretty much to himself. He ventured out to eat, walked along the decks with a forlorn smile. I’d see him sometimes on the bow eyes closed, letting the sea air blow across his face.”

Antanios caught John’s own whiskey-colored eyes and whispered, “I pretend he wasn’t drying his tears.”

Something in the way he said it made Johns throat catch and he turned around for a fresh glass and poured himself a strong two fingers.

Antanios voice quieted, “Do you know why it is corporate policy to not let single people board during Couples Cruise week John?”

“Because they commit suicide at an amazingly high rate”, he finished before John could answer.

“We were monitoring Mr. Alexander the entire cruise.”

John nodded as if he understood where Antanios was coming from but deep inside he felt like he knew how this story was going to end.

Sensing Johns mood Antanios smiled sweetly and said, “if this were simply a story of suicide, I wouldn’t need you to freshen both our glasses again.” John looked at his own glass surprised to see it was indeed empty too.

“As I was saying, Mr. Alexander seemed to be doing well for the first few days. He ventured out to eat and walk the decks. He listened to music and poetry readings, he sunbathed on the Lido deck. He wasn’t recluse, and he didn’t seem to disturb any of the other couples. As a matter of a fact, I’m not aware that anyone else even noticed he was alone. I saw him several times and I would swear he was sauntering along with his wife beside him, her hand in the crook of his arm. Then again, after thirty-five years with someone, perhaps one simply walks in such a manner”, he shrugged it off before continuing.

“Honestly John, it wasn’t until Formal night that I really noticed something strange about Mr. Alexander. During the cruise, I frequent the bar inside the steakhouse lounge, much as I do here, though the company is no where near as good”, Antanios dropped john a wink and clinked his glass.

“It is where most of our officers go when off duty to relax. The patrons of the steak house tend to be less aware of our presence there than in other portions of the ship and most have paid a premium for a reservation and fine dining, we can mingle amongst ourselves relatively unnoticed. I did, however, notice Mr. Alexander sitting at a table for two. When I say “table for two”, I mean, he requested two settings. He ordered two dinners. He ordered a very nice bottle of Merlot and had the waitress pour two glasses.” John’s head was beginning to swim with the rhythm of Antanios’ words. Or maybe it was the bourbon, but he was captivated.

Antanios’ gaze shifted to the mirror behind the bar. For a brief instant he imagined he saw a low fog in the reflection of the back corner of the restaurant and his pulse quickened as he abruptly turned around only to see a lonely old black man in a worn top hat take a seat in the corner booth. Antanios gathered himself and returned his gaze to John’s very quizzical one.

“Look like you seen a ghost, Cap’n?” A slight smile touched the corner of John’s lips.

Antanios returned the smile with one of his own, “Seems to be happening a lot lately”

“The bar in the steak house has a mirror much like this one. That evening I watched Mr. Alexander enjoy his meal, or meals if you prefer, mostly through the reflection in the mirror.”

“I’m not a creep John, or a peeper, so you can wipe that silly smirk off of your face” he said a little too forcefully, “I was concerned.”

“The thing is, Mr. Alexander didn’t seem to be mourning. He seemed to be enjoying the evening, and I know this sounds strange, but it seemed that he was actually on a date. Though I never saw him say a word, I swear he was smiling and nodding at that empty seat.”

Antanios leaned closer and lowered his voice, “ And John, he ate both dinners, and drank the wine out of both glasses, though I never saw him take a bite off the second plate or switch the glasses. Every time I looked in the reflection, more had simply been consumed from the empty seat side!” He nodded once in finality and gave John a very serious look that said he was certain.

“Once, when I checked the reflection in the mirror, for one instant I swear I saw a beautiful woman in all white sitting in the chair opposite Mr. Alexander. It was a fleeting glance that caused me to turn abruptly and look for myself, but there was no one at the table but poor, lonely Mr. Alexander.”

John recognized the signs, Lieutenant Antanios Hanna was well on his way to being drunk. For a moment John felt guilty since Antanios had a date. He poured Antanios a cup of espresso quickly exchanging it for the near empty bourbon glass in front of him.

“Go on”

“Well,” Antanios rubbed his eyes with the back of a well-tanned hand and said, “When Mr. Alexander sauntered out of the steak house, I followed after him and when I passed by his table, John, there was lipstick on the empty wine glass across from his seat, but there was no lipstick on his own glass!”

His eyes were wide now remembering the feeling of disbelief as he followed Mr. Alexander, arm bent as if to offer the crook of his elbow to some invisible woman, as he made his way to the Promenade deck.

“It was foggy out, which is unusual for this time of year, and even more unusual because our forecast called for clear skies, and no fog. The fog had driven most of passengers inside to warmer activities and the few who remained on deck barely glanced at Mr. Alexander or myself.”

“It’s as if I were in a dream. I followed him to the bow of the ship where he stopped and turned as if to a woman…and…” Antanios drew in a long-ragged breath before whispering, “he leaned in for a kiss to no one.”

Antanios’ eyes met John’s again and the seriousness was undeniable. “Except I saw her, a woman in white rising up on her toes to accept his embrace.”

“Oh wow, Antanios, that is a fantastic story!” John giggled nervously. He truly loved romantic stories and who doesn’t love a romantic ghost story! A smile broke out across Antanios’ face at the giddiness in John’s voice.

Then his expression became very somber as he once again leaned in toward John, who happily returned the intimacy with that sweet smile still playing on his lips, he could tell this story was getting to the best part now.

“I swear to you it happened just as I’m telling it to you. As the couple ended their embrace and Mr. Alexander stepped away from his ghostly companion, she turned to me, looked me directly in the eyes through the shadow and fog, and smiled at me.”

“NO” exclaimed John slapping his white towel on the bar for emphasis.

“Yes!” Antanios matched his enthusiasm for effect, “Then a giant wave, shaped like a hand snatched them both off the deck and tossed them into the sea!”

His eyes were wild now. Just for a moment. Then he sat back in his stool, stirred his esspresso, tapped the spoon on the rim of the cup, and stared at the bartender over the steam rising from his cup. John wasn’t sure how to take it. He had known Antanios for a while and he knew that Antanios believed everything he had just told him.

“Officially, the investigators ruled it a suicide. I am on administrative leave pending an internal revue of my role in allowing a grieving passenger to jump from the bow of our premier luxury liner during a romantic couples cruise.” The seriousness was back. The espresso seemed to be doing its job because good old handsome Antanios was staring a hole through John, and for just a moment the flesh on his skin prickled as if a goose had walked across his grave. He offered Antanios his best smile, touched his arm and said, “I believe you.” After all, that’s what friends do for one another.

“The damnedest part is that corporate “asked” me to collect Mr. Alexander’s belongings and contact his next of kin.”

“Ah, the date, I see.” John felt bad for his friend now. This wasn’t just a ghost tale, for Antanios it was a nightmare.

“Her name is Athena, and she is meeting me here any moment and I haven’t the faintest idea what to tell her”

“Good luck with that Antanios, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes today”, John replied as he turned towards the two Cajuns at the other end of the bar waving for thier check. “Let me know how it goes”

But Antanios barely heard him. His eyes were fixed upon the reflection in the mirror and his body was riveted to the bar stool. For just an instant he swore he saw a fog enter through the front door of the restaurant but what stood in the entrance was the spitting image of the woman in white from the bow of the Andrusia. Then the image was gone and what remained was a very beautiful young woman in a flowing white sundress with dark curls in her flowing hair. “Here we go”, he muttered to himself as he collected his espresso and rose to greet the woman.

“Hello, Athena?”

“Yes, you must be Antanios”, she reached out and took his offered hand in both of hers with a warm and inviting smile that gave Antanios butterflies.

“Please join me.” He led her to a table opposite the door and waved the waitress over.

“I’m sure you must be distraught, would you care for something to drink?”

“Yes, of course, and I’m famished, I’d love something to eat.”

As the waitress approached Antanios began to offer his condolences and apologies for her loss but Athena simply waved him off with a smile.

“We have plenty of time to discuss these matters Antanios, let’s eat first. Yes, waitress, I think we would like to start with a glass of your finest Merlot.” She smiled seductively at Antanios and gave him a wink.

“We are on our very first date.”

John wiped slowly wiped the bar, then a tear from his eye. The funeral had been glorious. There is nothing like a New Orleans funeral procession. Antanios would have enjoyed it. He loved jazz. Maybe he would come back and haunt this bar just to see me, John thought wistfully. He replayed the last conversation they had shared in his mind as another tear slowly escaped his eyes. Ghost stories and waves shaped like hands. To think the last words, he ever spoke to Antanios were “Good Luck”. That was a pile of trash.

He had watched Antanios stagger away from the bar towards the door. He thought Antanios was leaving but he had kind of stood there as if he were having a conversation with someone before he sat at a table and called for a waitress.

John remembered thinking “Good, at least he is going to eat something before leaving.” He had gotten a little tipsy waiting on the woman who never showed. John shook his head in disbelief.

“I would never have stood him up!” He whispered softly as yet another tear fell onto the bar. He wiped that one up too. Only, for one second, when he had caught Antanios’ reflection in the bar mirror, John swore he saw a figure seated at the table with him. Of course, when he turned around, there was no one there. Just Antanios, nodding and staring at an empty chair with a glass of merlot in his hand. He remembered, that day. It had dawned as murky as the river and the rain and thunderstorms had played a haunting tune behind Antanios’ story. John never would have imagined that Antanios would leave the restaurant and be struck by lightening not ten feet from the front door. It was tragic.

“I hope whoever those tears are for is worth them falling from such lovely eyes.”

John looked up into the face of the most beautiful man he had ever seen. His tan countenance and wavy brown hair framed the face of a Greek statue. Staring directly into John’s soul were the deepest sea blue eyes he had ever seen.

“He was very worth it.”

“I understand, let me buy you a drink and you can tell me all about this brute who has broken your heart, I’m Apollo, but you may call me Paul.” “Barkeep,” he slapped the bar playfully, “let’s have two glasses of Merlot”

Like a fog on the swamp, he strolled through the door of La’ Pierre’s. The ancient man in the worn top hat loved this place. He loved the ambiance, the food, the people, and mostly the music. He loved all that Jazz. His milky white eyes seemed to shine from his dark creased face standing in contrast to his skin. His hair and beard were long and white and kept in dreadlocks.

To many he would seem just an old man casually strolling about his business. Few ever gave him a second glance and none could look him directly in the eyes. Those milky eyes with their red pupils like tiny flickers of fire dancing under the milky gloss. He supposed that most would think him blind if they had the courage to look him in the eye, but it had been millennia since any human had dared. Unlike the gentleman sitting in his favorite corner booth. He had absolutely no problem making eye contact, in fact did so with a warm smile.

“Papa Legba, you are looking divine”, the man greeted him in flawless Greek.

“Dionysus”, he replied in equally flawless Greek, “You are divinity personified”, Papa teased as he slid into the booth beside him. “The king of the ocean arrives with the morning tide.”

“Thank you ferry man”, replied Dionysus, “and I may assume my father shall be along soon enough?”

Papa Legba nodded in agreement. He was watching the bar as another sacrifice was being led to the slaughter. Such is the price for crossing out of the underworld. A balance must be maintained. One soul for another. “The old gods return” he thought. “Traded into this realm for the soul of a mortal. How powerful could they be?”

As if reading his mind, Dionysus smiled and said in a flawless south Louissiana accent, “Relax Papa Legba, wonderful things are afoot. Have a glass of wine with me and listen to all that jazz."