1 Bar Stool: Chapter 1

Knuckles rang hard against the solid wood counter, waking me up from my intoxicated sleep. Slightly more sober than before my rudely awakened nap, I was able to look at the bartender without falling over or seeing double.

"What gives man? Never wake up a drunk guy," I told him.

"Sorry buddy, but it's closing time," the bartender replied, as he went on cleaning cups and wiping down the counter.

"What? What do you mean? I came in at like 10, and I must have been out for only like an hour."

"Look at the time man," the bartender said, gesturing towards the clock behind him.

It read 1 am.

"Wow. I was out for close to 3 hours," I said.

"Yeah you were. You came in, ordered one drink and then you were out until now. Not much of a drinker are you?" the bartender replied.

"No. This was actually the first drink I've had in years."

"What made you have one now?"

"I don't think you have enough time for the story," I said, looking around the bar and seeing that it was empty besides myself and the bartender.

"Oh don't worry," the bartender replied, as he set down his cleaning rag and sat on his stool. He rested an arm over the counter as he did so. "I always have time for a story."

I looked at the bartender and took him in for the first time. He was a middle-aged man about 30 - 34 ish, tall, muscular, and had a nicely sculpted face. He wore an apron that covered most of his frontside, but I could see a plain black tee and a faded pair of jeans underneath. His most redeeming feature though, was that he seemed to radiate warmth; warmth and experience. Like working a bar and listening to and solving other people's problems was what he was born to do and he was fulfilling his life's purpose by asking me my story. Without even making a conscious decision to do so, I agreed to tell him my story and asked him his name.

"Pete," he said. "Just call me Pete."

"Okay, Pete. I'm Nathaniel, but you can just call me Nate. It's what everyone else calls me anyways," I replied.

"Cool. So Nate, what made you drink for the first time in years?"

"I was coming back from a get together with some of my close friends actually. The reason for the gathering was a little more special than usual, because one of them, Raul, got promoted to Creative Design Head at his company."

"That sounds amazing!"

"Yeah it was," I said, looking down at my hands. "I was really happy for him. I truly was. But after the initial hype went down, I started unknowingly reflecting back on my life and where I was in the world."

"And where is that, exactly?" Pete asked, his voice very soft and soothing.

"Still in school, studying to be a teacher. Not even being sure if I'll be able to find a full-time job within a year after graduation. Impending student loan fees, living in a one bedroom apartment that looks as if it was built in the 1980s. Barely scraping by on my rent every month. And trying to hide all of this from my successful friends, so that they don't pity me and try to give me money," I said, suddenly feeling a little tired. Pete, as if sensing it, handed me a glass of water.

"Here, drink this," Pete said as he set the glass down.

"Thanks," and I downed the glass in one go. I then continued. "Raul was my closest friend, and we always supported each other through everything. But the thing is, I also had a chance to be like him. I just made the wrong choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after high school, we both applied to a very famous and prestigious art and design school. Essentially, the Harvard of art and design schools. We both applied as a joke, thinking that there was no way that we would get in. So we just sent in our applications and portfolios, forgot about them, and applied to other, more reasonable, schools. Then, a week before acceptance deadlines, we BOTH get a letter of acceptance from the prestigious art and design school."

"Wow, that's amazing," Pete exclaimed. "I bet you were really happy."

"We were. We were ecstatic, through the roof!" I said. "The problem was that at this point, I had already made preparations to go to another school, somewhere not at all related to art and design. I had already found a place to stay near campus, and I already bought required materials and textbooks for the first semester of classes. To drop all of this and to just go to the art school, would have meant throwing away thousands of dollars, and most probably getting disowned by my family. Considering all of this, even though I really wanted to go to the art school, I declined and just went to the school I had made preparations for."

"What happened to Raul?"

"Yeah, so Raul was also in the exact same situation I was in. Not the same school, but made basically the same preparations, and had the same consequences for just dropping everything and leaving. Only difference is, he left. He threw away his apartment, his hundreds in textbooks, his parents kicked him out. He went to the art school with nothing."

"What happened after?"

"Well he struggled. A lot. During the first year or so he practically hopped around different buildings sleeping there overnight. Luckily the school offered free meals, so he never went hungry, but it was still a struggle. In the second year he found some friends to live with, and once he stopped having to worry about where to sleep every night, it was like it unlocked something within him. He became this genius, and started winning contests and scholarships left and right. He then got hired right after graduation at one of the top design firms in the country, and he is now the Creative Design Head."

"Where were you in all this?"

"Well I lived a very normal life, and had an average undergraduate experience. Went to classes everyday, wrote my exams, went on break. Repeat. I kept in touch with Raul throughout those years, and I had times when he would stay over at my place during that first year or so. Even though he was struggling though, he was always happy and loved what he was doing. He always looked ahead, and made the best out of every situation he was in. Never afraid to take risks and make the jump. I saw this, and I started wondering if I made the right decision to not go to the art school. I wondered if maybe throwing it all away then, would have been worth it now. If it meant doing what I truly wanted to do, wouldn't it have been?"

I stopped then and looked at the time. It read 3 am. It had been 2 hours since I started talking, and I realized that Pete was still looking at me intently, completely focused on what I was saying. I felt slightly self-conscious, and made my way to go.

"Wow, it's really late now. I really appreciate you listening to my story. You have no idea what that meant to me, and I feel a little bit better now. I'm sorry for keeping you for so long, I tend to ramble, but once again, thank you," I said.

I then got my coat and started walking towards the door, when -

"What if you could go back?" Pete asked.

I turned.

"What?" I replied.

"What if you could go back?" he repeated, as he got up and slowly started walking towards me.

"What if you could go back to that one moment in your life and make a different choice? What if you could change the one thing that you regret not changing, and living an entirely different life you the one you are living now? What if you could have no regrets?"

He was directly in front of me now, and as the moonlight cut across his face, I saw that his eyes glowed green. He grabbed me by the arm. A little too tight.

"Pete, what are you saying? And you are hurting me. Please let go first," I said.

"I can't until I have an answer Nate," he replied.

"An answer to what?!" I screamed, feeling like my arm was burning.

"WHAT IF YOU COULD GO BACK?!" he screamed, his grip seeming to get tighter and his eyes glowing brighter.

"THEN I WOULD GO!" I screamed back at him. "I WOULD GO BACK, CHANGE IT, AND NEVER LOOK BACK!"

"At what cost?" he said, the grip relaxing and the eyes fading.

"At whatever the cost," I replied, the answer coming out instantaneously and unconsciously.

"Good," and then he let go my arm and the glow in his eyes disappeared. "Follow me."