The rain fell in sheets and turned the ground into a soup of mud, leaves and the detritus of lives lived too close to the gutter. Cornelius leapt over a torrent of water as it washed down the street, although why he bothered with the effort to keep his feet dry when the rest of him was soaked through was a vanity not lost on the following Tempest. They quickly crossed the broken pavement into the covered doorway of the bar they’d seen from across the street and stood briefly, admiring the raw anger of the Monsoon rains at their peak. As if offended by the months of dry and dusty days the rains fell, hammering on the corrugated iron roofs with a sound like thunder. High above their heads real thunder boomed across the valley, illuminated by stabs of lightning that was occasionally so bright and close that Tempest’s eyes became blind for a moment. Each time this happened the first thing that his eyes were able to perceive was the blinking neon sign in the window of the bar. The flashing words cast a blue light onto Cornelius’s cheek as he stood… dripping, smiling, blinking away the rain that gathered on his eyelashes.BAR RIA SOTO, the sign insisted. Again and again it flashed its message out to the world. “Shall we?” Only those with experience of Cornelius Lee’s huge appetite for alcohol would have been able to perceive the challenge in his voice as he grinned at his friend. Tempest looked up at the building under who’s eaves they stood. The paint work was faded in places and bullet holes peppered one end of the front wall, which, Tempest thought, was not unusual for this part of the world. In short it looked exactly like the kind of place Cornelius would love. Local flavour, cheap alcohol and a kind of anonymity that money couldn’t buy. “Such is my Karma,” Tempest said as he turned with a shrug and pushed open the door with one battered old brown leather shoe that peaked from under the end of his frayed, faded jeans. His long brown coat dripped water all over the worn but clean wooden floor within. As he looked up from the puddle forming around his feet Cornelius stepped in beside him, bringing more of the monsoon indoors. The bar was exactly as he had imagined, there was a motley collection of furniture and a long bar down one end that ran the length of one wall. As the two visitors stood in the doorway the wall with the bar was to their left, the wall behind them contained the door and two double windows, one of which was open despite the pouring rain outside. The wall directly in front of them had another two windows that looked out onto a cobbled yard with an ancient looking jukebox squeezed between them. Hanging on the wall to their right was a collection of signed black and white photographs, and a large set of double doors that were flung open to reveal a covered veranda that was currently providing shelter to an old goat.Cornelius turned from the door towards the bar where a gentle looking man was waiting with a smile. Tempest couldn’t help but feel a sneer of contempt for someone obviously still so enamoured with life, but if Cornelius shared his sentiment he didn’t show it. He approached the barkeep with a friendly and open smile, as was his manner of greeting all those who fed his habit, before extending a hang for shaking.“Hello, please to meet you,” Cornelius said.“Welcome,” the old man said, taking Cornelius’s hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Welcome to my bar. You are Amrican?”“No, no,” said Cornelius, “unfortunately we’re British.”“Oh, well. That is good too!” The smile on the man’s face got even bigger. “Please, sit…” he came around the end of the bar and ushered both Cornelius and the somewhat reluctant Tempest to a large table in front of one of the rear windows. “You would like to drink?” He asked, once they were comfortable.“Yes, very much so!” Now it was Cornelius’s turn to grin from ear to ear. “What do you have?”“We have many drinks! We have beer, whisky that we make in this valley and Brandy also. There is some gin left as well if you would prefer.”“Two brandy’s please.” Cornelius answered immediately. “Tell me,” he asked as the man turned to go, “is the rain likely to last much longer, only we have some more trekking to do and we’d rather not be too delayed.”“Oh yes, yes, the rain will stop soon...” the barkeep said, “in a few days.”Cornelius and Tempest shared a look. Without breaking eye contact with his friend Cornelius called after the old man.“Better just bring the bottle…”Tempest turned away.“If the rain really does last a few days we’ll need a place to stay…”The barkeep returned to the table with a well looked after bottle of Spanish Brandy and two grubby looking glasses.“No problem sir,” he said, setting down the glasses. “We have rooms here, if you need to you can stay upstairs. Very reasonable rates.”“Settled then,” said Cornelius who opened the bottle and poured two generous measures into the glasses. “We drink. We sleep. We wait.”“Exactly sir!” The barkeep said smiling so hard that his head nearly toppled off.“How do you live with this weather?” Tempest asked, his spirit failing as he contemplated spending hours if not days in the company of Cornelius and alcohol.“Live sir?”“Yes, how do you get on, live your daily lives, when the rain is so insistent all day, every day!”“I live like I do every other day sir. When I’m hungry I eat, when I’m tired I sleep, when I’m thirsty I drink.”“Yes, but the rain…?” Tempest’s voice trailed off in the face of the old mans realism.“Falls from the sky sir, just like it does every year, and it brings many blessings.”Giving up, Tempest changed the subject.“You mentioned that you eat when you’re hungry…”“Yes, of course sir. You are hungry as well?”“Yes. Very.”“Well, we have some food that we can provide you with. Of course the cooking is not as good since my wife was taken from us, but I will try my best for you.”With that the old man backed away from the table and disappeared through a door behind the bar, leaving Cornelius and Tempest alone with only the goat for company. The goat stared at them in the manner of goats everywhere, chewing casually on some inedible cloth with a look on its face that spoke of contempt. Tempest felt a momentary affinity with the goat, so bored of this life around them, so oblivious to its pleasures, so aware of its faults. He wondered whether the goat was a pet, a source of milk or due to become someone’s dinner anytime soon. He quickly dismissed his thoughts as unimportant and concentrated on his brandy, trying desperately to tune-out Cornelius’s ramblings whilst still appearing interested. It was going to be a long afternoon.
via Email