Free In a Mist by Devon Code-mcneil Page B

at a high, sturdy wooden table, choosing a place with a glass ashtray though he had not smoked a cigarette in almost twenty years. He sat for a moment and observed the quiet room. An older woman he recognized and a haggard-looking man he did not were playing slot machines at the back. There was worn green carpet beneath his boots and a scuff ed hardwood surface serving as a dance floor. The stage was low, no more than a foot off the floor, and crowded with instruments and amplifiers. On the far side of the room there were small square-paned windows between wine-coloured curtains. A grey-haired waitress greeted Isaac by name and brought him a half-pint glass and a pitcher of pale draft. When she off ered him a menu he smiled and declined. He filled his glass and wondered whether the girl would come that afternoon.
    It would be two years that July since he first saw her. Though he did not know precisely he put her between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. Once or twice a month she would come and sit on the opposite side of the room with other men and women of her approximate age. Isaac found it curious that the young women outnumbered the young men. He could not fathom that these men would let the women who sat at their table pay for their own drinks. If he could not help but think of these young women as girls, surely the men in their company were no more than boys. He knew that the man he was several decades ago would have felt diff erently about the girl than he felt now. He could approximate the time, some twenty years ago, when the change in him had occurred. It happened around the same time that women stopped thinking of him as a handsome or desirable man. He watched now as the front man and the lap-steel player took the stage and tuned their instruments and spoke of key signatures and song titles. Eventually they were joined by the others and performed Hank Williams’s rendition of “Lovesick Blues,” the tune with which they always began.
    This was the time Isaac most enjoyed, the afternoon in its potential and him left to contemplate what may transpire. He knew some other old-time regulars would eventually approach him and join his table, another old man, or an aging couple with which he was acquainted. They would laugh at the front man’s swagger and his banter and applaud solos and if someone were to sit in for a number, this would be occasion for further applause. They mightshare a pitcher, speak of the weather or the milestones of grandchildren and if wallet-sized photographs were produced, Isaac would examine them for evidence of bloodline and personality. Together they would look with approval at the young couples on the dance floor, or eye the older ones and wink. To exercise his independence Isaac would rise on occasion and make his way to the slots, methodically inserting quarters until he reached his three dollar limit. He would return then to the table with a sense of self-control he wished he might have been able to exercise with as little eff ort in other aff airs.
    Gradually the bar began to fill. Isaac looked back toward the entrance as a woman his age entered, followed by a man who had held the door for her. The two were dressed in western shirts with matching embroidery. When they saw Isaac they waved to him but did not approach. They sat down behind him, at the back of the room, and the man went off to the bar and when the woman saw Isaac looking in her direction she winked at him.
    â€œYou sly old devil,” said a familiar voice and Isaac turned and Lloyd grinned at him. Lloyd’s greying beard was newly trimmed. He wore a navy-issue sweater with a collared shirt underneath and a brand new ball cap perched on the crown of his head. Isaac greeted his old acquaintance and shook his outstretched, calloused hand and Lloyd set the half-pint in his other hand on the table and sat down next to Isaac without being asked. Isaac turned to face the stage and it was then he saw that the