Spread Your Wings

Well, I finally finished my last short story for my Creative Writing class. Please let me know what you think!

Spread Your Wings

By Beth Ann Koustas

Based off the Queen Song “Spread your Wings”

Written by John Deacon

Sammy was low

Just watching the show
Over and over again
Knew it was time
He'd made up his mind
To leave his dead life behind
His boss said to him
"Boy you'd better begin
To get those crazy notions right out of your head
Sammy who do you think that you are ?
You should've been sweeping up the Emerald bar"

Spread your wings and fly away
Fly away, far away
Spread your little wings and fly away
Fly away, far away
Pull yourself together
'Cos you know you should do better
That's because you're a free man

He spends his evenings alone in his hotel room
Keeping his thoughts to himself, he'd be leaving soon
Wishing he was miles and miles away
Nothing in this world, nothing would make him stay
Since he was small
Had no luck at all
Nothing came easy to him
Now it was time
He'd made up his mind
"This could be my last chance"
His boss said to him
"Now listen boy!
You're always dreaming
you’ve got no real ambition, you won't get very far
Sammy boy, don't you know who you are?
Why can't you be happy at the Emerald bar?"

So honey

Spread your wings and fly away
Fly away, far away
Spread your little wings and fly away
Fly away, far away
Pull yourself together
'Cos you know you should do better
That's because you're a free man

C'mon honey
Fly with me

this is a copyrighted work of fiction by the author Beth Ann Koustas. All rights reserved. 

Sammy was low, just watching the show, over and over again.

            The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon when Sammy’s alarm began to beep. As he opened his eyes, he could see the purples and pinks of the remaining sun peaking through his window against his off-white hotel wall. He groaned, rolling over to hit the SNOOZE button.

“Just a few more minutes of sleep,” He muttered as the world faded to gray again.

            As his alarm attempted to get him up once more, Sammy undecidedly rolled out of the bed, pondering whether ten more minutes of sleep would make his night a little easier. He decided against it, slipping his fuzzy black slippers onto his freezing-cold bare feet. Sammy stumbled down the hall, running into the doorway as he entered the bathroom. He hopped over to the lime green sink, feeling his toe swelling. The lime green sink clashed with the bright pink porcelain toilet sitting next to it.

 Sammy grabbed the used toothbrush that was resting at the bottom of the sink while he screwed off the CREST toothpaste, whose expiration date was months ago. Turning on the water, he watched the toothpaste cap spinning in the whirlpool. Panicking, he rushed to save it. He lost sight of the cap as it disappeared into the darkness of the damp drain. He shook his head, knowing this was a sure sign his shift at work was going to be miserable.

He squeezed the toothpaste over his yellowing toothbrush, running the bristles over his amazingly-still white teeth. Sammy made a mental note to buy a new toothbrush, and maybe if he splurged, a new tube of toothpaste too. Spitting the minty toothpaste foam out of his mouth, he watched it twirl down the drain off to join the cap.

Deciding against a shower, Sammy grabbed a tube of green hair gel out of the medicine cabinet. He smoothed back his dull brown hair while watching himself in the yellowing old mirror. Splashing water on his face, he kept up hope that maybe the water would make him look alive again.

He felt dead.

Every day, except Sunday, he slept all day in a room, where the light was impossible to keep out. It use to bother Sammy, but it didn’t anymore. He’d wake up at 9 every night; drag himself unexcitedly to work, which was a bartending job at the Emerald Bar down the street. He’d gotten himself stuck in a rut since his mother died. He wanted out. He’d dug a hole so deep in a self-pitying haze, he couldn’t figure out how to get out. He was stuck.

Knew it was time, he’d made up his mind, to leave his dead life behind.

            Sammy threw on his ratty old rain coat, of course it was raining. When he stepped out of the hotel, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the rain wasn’t cold and miserable. In fact, it was warm, and washed over him like a comforting blanket.

            The Emerald Bar was just down the street from the hotel. It was in an old red brick building that still had an advertisement painted on the side. The advertisement was for a bakery that had existed there, years and years ago, long before Sammy was born.

            He entered the bar from the back ally. The eerie glow of the dim light in the bar gave the appearance that everyone in the room was battling a terrible case of jaundice.  This was where Sammy spent his days, well nights really. The bar was small, and the floors were old with burn marks from the years past. The walls were stained from bar fights, and the wooden bar held secrets from stories told and whispered from troubled patrons throughout the years.

            Sammy knew everyone in the bar, it was always the same. The old man in the corner with the gray hair, a bent frame, and blue eyes was Ronald. He lost his wife of 45 years on his birthday. Ronald was always sitting in the corner of the bar, drinking his Jack Daniels. Stacy, the woman with the blond-hair-from-the-bottle, and the low, low, low cut shirt, sat at the bar every day, hoping to pick up some under the covers business. The two younger men playing pool, one with blond hair, the other with brown, came three times a week; Monday, Wednesday and Friday. They came just to get away from their wives and kids.

            This was a normal night at work for Sammy. He moved over to the bar without ever picking up his feet from the floor. He was too tired. Mentally and physically. It took too much out of him to actually pick up his feet. Pushing up the sleeves of his gray sweater, Sammy smiled weakly to Ronald.  Sammy grabbed the Jack Daniels bottle from the bar and refilled Ronald’s glass. Ronald looked up and smiled, looking up and down Sammy’s sullen face. Ronald’s smile disappeared and he questioned Sammy.

“What’s troubling you son? Love troubles?” Everyone was a son to Ronald, especially the young bartender who had been a solid figure in his life for the past three year.

“Life troubles,” Sammy whispered back, heading back to the bar. He set the bottle of alcohol back in its rightful place, and then he rested his body against the bar. Sammy’s eyes followed Ronald as he got up and walked over to the bar, stopping in front of Sammy.

“Seriously Sam, what’s up?” Ronald was concerned. His young bartender seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into something, he just wasn’t sure what.

“My name is Sammy, Ronald. We’ve been through this before.” Sammy hated being called Sam. Ronald ran his fingers through his horseshoe mustache. It was black, and Sammy wondered whether Ronald dyed it, or whether his hair naturally grayed faster on his head.

“I’m sorry. Sammy, please tell me what’s wrong. After all of these years of me dumping my problems on you, share some of yours with me.”

“It’s nothing” Sammy sighed. “I just…….” He let his sentence trail off into history.

“Feel stuck?” Ronald asked gently.

“Yeah,” Sammy grumbled back.

“Yeah, I’ve felt like that since, well, you know.” Ronald didn’t like to say it. “You’re young son, you’ll get passed this.” Ronald smiled kindly and walked away, but not before leaving a tip on the bar.

            Sammy let his mind wander, dreaming of all the wonderful things he could do, places he could go. He wanted to swim with the fish in the ocean, see a parade in the streets of New Orleans, and hear the beating of his own heart as he jumped out of a plane, relying only on the parachute on his back.

“Sammy.” Sometimes Sammy wished he could just jump out of a plane and keep falling, to never come to a stop.

“Sammy.” He snapped out of his daydreaming and back to the heartbreaking truth. Reality. His boss stood before him with a broom.

“Sammy, Sweep the floor. That’s what I pay you for; working, not daydreaming.”

            Sammy grabbed the broom, moving it back and forth against the floor, collecting all of the unwanted dust, glass, and whispered secrets into a pile.

                                                                                                        

His boss said to him “Boy you’d better begin to get those crazy notions right out of your head.

Sammy who do you think that you are? You should’ve been sweeping up the Emerald Bar.”

            The broom had been rested against the wall adjacent to the bar and Sammy was now busy listening to a distraught woman sitting at the bar.

“He….jjjjust….llleft me!’” The blond sobbed. Sammy slid a shot glass filled with something strong toward the blue eyed girl, chuckling inwardly. This was nothing in his book. He’d talked people out of suicide, through break ups, even deaths. He could handle this woman. Sammy looked over her as she gulped down her strong drink. Now that he really got a good look at her, she seemed more like a girl, and less like a woman. Her blond hair and light skin made her look unhealthy and pale. The black mascara and purple eyeliner that was once around her eyes, now painted her face.  Sammy didn’t say anything to the girl when she looked up at him. Instead, he smiled weakly.

“We were dating for four years and he just c-c-comes home today and says he’s leaving me for someone else.”

“You know, maybe he isn’t worth all of this.” Sammy offered, gently, motioning toward her appearance and her endless tears.

“But, I invested so much into us. I thought he wa-wa-was the one.”

“Yeah, and I never saw myself stuck in the middle of nowhere, sweeping the floors of a bar. Life’s a bitch.” He got a small smiled and giggle from her. “Maybe, this is all for the better.” As the last words rolled out of Sammy’s mouth, the bell on the entrance door rang, drawing the attention from Sammy, who was now staring at what had just entered the door.

            He was tall, so very, very, very, tall. His hair was so black it looked blue, and his eyes held oceans, deserts, mountains, and fields full of flowers. Everything about the man, who was wearing tight jeans and a brown leather jacket, screamed adventure. Everything Sammy wasn’t. Everything Sammy wanted so badly to be. The man walked over towards the bar, sitting on the far side of where the blond-wreck-of- a-girl was sitting. She had started to pull herself together now. Her drink was gone, her glass dry, begging for more. Sammy topped off her drink.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked her.

“Yeah,” She said with a weak smile. Something about this bartender to her was soothing and calming. Making everything seem like it was going to be alright.

“Maybe you’re right,” She added. “Maybe it’s all for the better. He left toothpaste in the bottom of the sink anyway, and that drives me crazy!” Sammy smiled, patting the woman’s hand in congratulation of her new-found freedom.

Spread your wings and fly away. Fly away, Far away. Spread your little wings and fly away. Fly away,

Far away. Pull yourself together ‘cos you know you should do better. That’s because you’re a free man.

            Sammy grabbed a glass from under the bar and headed over towards the man that he so very much wished he could be. He set the glass in front of the man and looked up to see the man’s ridiculously green eyes. But these eyes weren’t just green. These eyes were pink, blue and brown too. The stories they held shouted adventure and took Sammy’s breath away.

“What can I get for you?” Sammy asked. The man seemed to stop all brain production, attempting to comprehend the bartender’s words. The minute he opened his mouth, Sammy could tell English wasn’t this man’s first language. He had a fantastic accent that Sammy couldn’t place.

“Vodka, Please, I’m not even supposed to be here.”  Sammy nodded, pouring the liquor into his glass. Sammy turned around to place the bottle back where it belonged, and when he turned back around, the alcohol he had given the man was already gone.

“Relationship troubles too?” Sammy questioned while nodding toward the blond across the bar, who was now yakking away on her blackberry. The man smiled, and what a bright smiled it was.

“I guess it’s an international thing bartenders do huh?” The man asked, chuckling.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been all around the world, and the bars are all different, but all the bartenders have one thing in common.”
“What?” Sammy was curious.

“Every bartender I’ve ever met solves everyone else’s problems without even noticing.””

“I’m just doing my job.” Sammy answered back, flattered.

“You know, most bartenders are too busy taking care of everyone else’s problems. They forget to solve their own.”

“Huh.” Sammy whispered. He was fully aware he had problems, he was just too afraid to deal with them. The man sitting at the bar cleared his throat several times, trying to get his bartender’s attention. Sammy finally snapped out of his fog and apologized to his costumer. 

“Could you please tell me where I can stay for a couple of nights?” The man asked Sammy.

“You’re not from here then?” Sammy asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope, I’m just visiting. The trains are down; I was heading for Kansas City to catch a plane to Tampa. So here I am; small town America.”

“There’s a quiet Bed&Breakfast down the street. Keep walking from here and you’ll find it.”

“Thank you!” The man said, setting down his money on the bar. As the man turned to leave, Sammy stopped him.

“I never got your name….”

“It’s Luc.”

“Luke?”

“No, Luc. It’s French. I’m French.” And with that, Luc walked away, out of the bar, and what Sammy thought would be; out of his life. The rest of Sammy’s night at work was uneventful, well, to the onlooker anyway. Inside Sammy’s head was a storm brewing. Sammy wanted out of his life, and into someone else’s. Someone like Luc, someone who isn’t afraid to take risks and jump at any chance for adventure. That’s what Sammy wanted to be.

He spends his evenings alone in his hotel room, keeping his thoughts to himself. He’d be leaving

Soon. Wishing he was miles and miles away, nothing in this world, nothing could make his stay.

            Nights passed. Tuesday, Wednesday, when Thursday came and went, Sammy got off work at his usual 6 am. Sammy walked over to the local 24 hour ATM. It was the only thing in the small town that appeared to be from the 21^st century.

            After cashing his minimum wage check, he stopped by the local store, which too, was in a very small brick building, like every other building in town.  After picking various items to fill the mini fridge in his hotel room, Sammy returned to the hotel, quickly passing out on his bed. He was so tired; he hadn’t even gotten a chance to pull back the covers.

He was sleeping on top of the rough fabric comforter. The comforter was made of some foreign fabric, polyester; Sammy had guessed when he first moved into the hotel. It had lumps of cotton filling, here and there, from years of washing. Just like Sammy’s life, the comforter hadn’t changed since he had moved in three years ago.

            When he was growing up, Sammy always dreamed of going to college and studying abroad. Sammy had been raised by a single mother. He never knew who his father was, and Sammy suspected he was a result of a one night stand. Even on her deathbed, his mother wouldn’t tell Sammy what had happened. Not knowing who his father was left Sammy feeling like there was always something missing, but he figured maybe it was for the better. His mother was only protecting him. She always protected him.

            Sammy was 17 and planning for college when his mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She had been waking in the middle of the night with a terrible headache, which led to her doctor’s visit. Although his mother was strictly against it, Sammy forwent college, allowing his years and years of saved money for college to go towards his mother’s treatment and hospital bills instead. When his mother’s condition turned for the worst, Sammy knew she was too old and too weak to beat the cancer that had spread to her lungs and spinal cord. She smiled until the very end, and Sammy was happy she was no longer in pain.

Three weeks later, he moved out of the house, selling it, and moved into the hotel. It was only suppose to be for a little while, but now Sammy found himself stuck, only twenty-four, and already an old man. Sammy craved change. He had grown so afraid of change, that he hadn’t changed anything in years, not even his hair. He was ready. He needed some change in his life, and fast.

            Friday night began with Sammy dropping a Whiskey bottle on the ground. Sammy just stood watching as the glass shattered to pieces, and the liquid covered the floor. He could hear his boss come up behind him, and turning around, he saw his boss’s anger-red face, confirming his suspicions.

“Sammy, what’s your fucking problem? You’ve got to stop this dreaming if you want to keep your job.” The boss stomped away, but not before assuring Sammy the bottle would be taken out of his paycheck.

            As Sammy was bent over, cleaning up spilt liquor, he heard the door open. The heavy clomp of boots headed towards the bar.

“Need help?” A deep voice asked. Sammy had heard that voice before and when he looked up, he quickly placed the voice with a familiar face. Luc.

“No, I’ve got it.” He said while brushing the final pieces of glass in a dust pan.

“What can I get you?” Sammy asked the French man after throwing out the glass pieces and soiled towels.

“Just water.”

“Nothing stronger?” Sammy asked, grabbing a bottle of water for Luc.

“Nope, I don’t need it.”

“I thought you were just in town until the trains were up again. They’ve been up since yesterday.”

“I was, and I know.” Luc said smiling.

“But?”

“But, I’m interested in getting to know what small town life is like.

“Why?” Sammy looked at the man in front of him like he was a leper. “Why would anyone want to stay here?” Sammy questioned. This man was crazy!

“I find it very enchanting. I’ll be writing about this place in my book.”

“Book?”

“Yes, I have to get money to travel somehow. So I write about my travels.” Sammy found himself growing more and more jealous of Luc as their conversation continued. Luc had been to New York, London, Paris, Tokyo, and LA. He’d been everywhere!  He was tall, handsome, educated, talented, and French. He was everything Sammy wanted to be.

“I don’t have it all you know.” Luc said. He could feel the jealousy radiating from Sammy. Luc understood that from the outside, he seemed to have it all. But under it all Luc, was lonely. So lonely, he never stayed in one place for too long. Sammy looked at Luc, puzzled.

“I travel, constantly, because I’m terribly lonely. If I stay in one place for too long, I think about it. So much, I can’t even get out of bed. I have no family, no friends. I don’t even have a town to call home.”

            Sammy sat down on the stool next to Luc, soaking in what Luc had just said. Sammy had one thing Luc didn’t, and that was a place to call home. This small town that Sammy had always seen as more of a pain in his life than anything else, was his home.

“I never thought of it that way.” Sammy whispered. Luc shook his head and swallowed the last of his water.

“I could use something stronger now.” Luc chuckled. Sammy got up, handing Luc a glass filled to the top with Scotch.

“What about you?” Luc asked as Sammy sat down next to him again.

“I work here every night,” Sammy said, shrugging.

“That’s it?” Luc asked. “No family?”

“No.”

“You live here?”

“Kinda, I rent a room.” The two grew silent. Luc fiddling with his glass, and Sammy picking at the peeling leather on the chair he was sitting on.

“Sammy?” Luc asked. His throat was raw from minutes without talking and from the harsh drink in his glass.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come with me to Tampa?”

Since he was small, had no luck at all, nothing came easy to him. Now it was time, he’d made up his mind. “This could be my last chance.” His boss said to him “Now listen boy! You’re always dreaming

You’ve got no real ambition, you won’t get very far. Sammy boy don’t you know who you are? Why can’t you be happy at the Emerald Bar?”

            Sammy let out a dramatic laugh.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.” Luc’s voice was serious, grabbing Sammy’s full attention.

“Seriously?”

“You’re young; you’ve got no family, no real responsibilities. Live a little.” Sammy just sat there, stunned. Luc was sure Sammy’s jaw almost reached the floor.

“Please! Come with me.” Sammy’s head began to shake back and forth.

“You never know, you might find yourself somewhere between Chicago and Paris. Please.” Luc was practically begging now, like a dog sitting by the table when there is steak for dinner.

So honey; Spread your wings and fly away. Fly away, far away. Spread little wings and fly away. Fly away, far away. Pull yourself together ‘cos you know you should do better. That’s because you’re a free man. C’mon Honey. Fly with me.

            For once in his life, Sammy took a chance. He willingly changed his life. He had gotten himself stuck and now, he had gotten himself out. Sammy, spread his wings and told Luc,

“Yes.”

September 11, 2001
We will never forget.
We will never forgive.
I will remember 9/11 the day I lost my childhood...and I will remember 5/1/2011, the day I got, just a little bit of it, back.