The Blue Martini
by Ken Walker
Title
The Blue Martini
Artist
Ken Walker
Medium
Digital Art - Digital Painting
Description
3rd in the collection "Abstract and the Written Word" a series of stories and poems inspired by the artwork.
- “I’ve never been a people watcher. In fact, I don’t recall ever really paying much attention to them. It’s not that I don’t like people enough to be observant, it’s just that for as long as I can remember I’ve concentrated on doing ‘me’. I’ve had some adult relationships, sure, but it always seems to end up the same way with him being ‘needy’ and incapable of living his own life and me always being the heartless one unwilling to give more. I just got tired of being resentful. So, I decided to focus on my dreams, allowing people into my circle as long as they were on the same path as I, singular in purpose. I never once thought that a bad thing. Dad felt differently. ‘Slow down, Mija!’ my father would always plead. ‘Pops, I’ll slow down when I stop breathing,’ I’d reply sarcastically, which got me that wounded look in his eyes, ‘Siesta, why you push yourself so hard?’ If he could see me now. Ha. I’m very still, Pops. Here watching.
The lounge is busy. A middle-aged man who is enjoying his evening tryst with a much younger woman sits at the farthest table from the front door. ‘Sir, another,’ lifting his empty glass to the bartender who is busy serving everyone their nightly libations. He looks tired, but surprisingly content. Loud and taking up a few of the remaining tables is what I surmised to be a sort of ‘First Wives’ club judging by frequent comments about someone named Jerry, Ben, Frank, Hank, and to keep up with the times, Simone who traded them all in for the ‘younger model’. They repeatedly mention someone named Dick who they all knew and whom they seemed not to care for all that much. And there is Joe, the bartender. I like him. In his early 40’s and quite handsome, I recognize a quality about him-intensity, but with a nonchalant attitude I could never master. It’s amazing how things have changed. I’ve been to places like this before, sitting at one of those tables with my business partner and never once paid any attention to the Joe serving drinks. Now I have nothing to do but notice. Still waiting for something important. I don’t know how I know that, exactly, it’s just true. It’s as instinctual as breathing. Funny, Siesta.
I decide to move up closer to the bar, a much better angel to watch from. Approaching, Joe sings out, ‘Welcome to the Blue Martini!’ Wait, what, he can see me? ‘Yeah I can see you and hear you, but don’t get too excited, one spirit can see another.’ Ok now I am confused. He can see me. He can hear my thoughts. And He’s a gho… I can’t finish it. ‘A ghost. No. I’m not dead, and technically you aren’t either. You’re close, and everyone else here is too.’ What is he saying? ‘Siesta, you’re a first-class, nothing-but-the-best woman, so you’ve spent your fair share of time in those fancy first-class airport lounges, right?’ I nodded. ‘Well, think of this as a sort of lounge for the In Between. That moment between life and death. Could go either way and what decides which way it goes, huh?’ He asks. ‘You’re going to tell me fate? God?’ A little too much edge to that response, but really. ‘Yes, and yes, but not here,’ he continues, ‘This is a lounge for those who have a choice to fight or give up. It all depends on you, but while you’re here you’re given the opportunity to explore the things that will help you make that choice.’
How is being in an airport lounge helping me? ‘Tell me what you see?’ I recount my earlier observations. He let’s out a small chuckle, ‘Ok, now I want you to still yourself. I want you to look again, only this time look not as a successful publisher from the real world, but the woman who, just a few moments ago, thought she was no longer living. Look through those eyes and tell me what you see.’ I resign. ‘OK.’ What was I going to see that was so different? Yet, I’m feeling that same feeling I’ve been having like, this IS the important thing I’ve been waiting for. So, I take a deeper look. Perhaps the room lighting has changed, I can’t be certain, but somehow, the room isn’t so dark blue, more soft white with a pinkish glow to it. The middle-aged man I had seen before now appeared much younger, still with the wedding ring, but the younger woman was older now. ‘That’s Jack,’ Joe informs me, ‘And he needs to be reminded of the passion and love he once felt for his wife, Linda. He was ready to walk away from his marriage and his life, but being here, he is reminded of his young heart and how much he fell for his wife when he first laid eyes on her. Jack’s decided to live, so he can spend his remaining years courting his wife.’ As for the ‘First Wives Club’, I see a group of loving women surrounding each other with supporting arms. ‘And them?’ I ask. ‘Ah, they have been hurt by the ones they’ve loved and because of the pain, each one had given up on life. They took on the shame of their partner’s selfish decision, rather than realize that the choices their spouses took doesn’t have to reflect on themselves. In different ways they were all dying. Tonight, though, they live and band together to let their feelings be heard, have a little fun at their exes expense, very cathartic, and find some closure. It’s what they needed to move on and truly live.’
I am beginning to understand this place and I want to know more. ‘What about you Joe? Why are you here?’ I ask. ‘When I first came here, I sat at the back table. I watched all these stories play out. Just like you tonight. No epiphany. But there was this guy behind the bar. Stan was his name. He had this fire in his eye. I knew that fire. I had that fire. But he had a serene way about him. A balance I didn’t have. Contentment I couldn’t find. I’d later find out that the those who serve here are serving more than mere drinks. They are the facilitators of what the others that come here need in order to move on. They mix it into the drinks, watch, adjust the mix, and hopefully, help the others make the right choice for themselves.’ Something is stirring in me. Could it be? 'I never got a drink. Finally, I walked up to the bar, irritated that I was being ignored. And you know what? Stan never said a word, just took off his apron, smiled and walked out the door, what a guy, that old Stan. But this was what I needed. To just be for others. In serving others the drinks, I’ve found my own balance. I put my fire into this place, not for myself, you see, but for the others, and in so doing found more contentment I was searching for.’ And with that, Joe smiles and hands me his apron and starts heading towards the door. ‘What do I do?’ I ask, not at all embarrassed by the amount of panic in my voice. ‘You’ll know what to do. Keep watching with your heart.’ Joe warmly soothes me as he disappears through the door followed by Jack and the ladies 5: Joanne, Alice, Stacy, Martha, and finally Mindy.
Now what? Joe said this is what he needed. Is this true for me as well? Before my unfortunate demise, I mean, temporary interruption of life via a misguided delivery truck, I would have said I have what I need. Now I’m not so sure anymore. Dad was right about slowing down. I pause to take a long hard look at myself in the bar mirror and turn to see a young man walking into the lounge. His name is Carl. I just know his name. I see him. I can feel his heart and know what he needs, and I mix his drink. As I watch him work through the choice he must make, I realize I’ve made my own already-To stay for a while until I find my contentment and balance like Stan, like Joe and then one day pass this to someone else. Others are trickling in now, so I better get to work. I think I'm ready. ‘Welcome to the Blue Martini! What can I get you?’”
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March 26th, 2020
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Viewed 271 Times - Last Visitor from Wilmington, DE on 03/15/2024 at 11:55 AM
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Comments (5)
VIVA Anderson
Dear Ken, could you find the time to post this great Blue to my Forum discussion: BLUE !!, please......tysvm, VIVA
VIVA Anderson
Re-visit, Ken......love the story, love this history/previous visits/posts, f.v......VIVA
VIVA Anderson
cHeers, Ken........am exhausted by this isolation, worry, etc....but......grateful just to keep going. Stay Safe, my boy.....and.... absolutely, the book of your pix/Descriptions as Prose, each page; choose a fav for the Cover....what a dream: self-publishing !!! Go for it..........when ready.......seems lots of stories still to tell......./ publish........in time for Xmas, of course, lol. Make sure every image is 300 dpi......easy to do via apps on the net.......publishers insist on that, btw. STAY WELL .. PRIORITY....V.
VIVA Anderson
Wonderful, Ken, Art and Prose. It is late here, I am v. Tired. Will return to read fully, what looks like an insightful treatise. Tomorrow, then, ok? M’thinks you create perfect covers for your “books”.....Cheers, V.
Ken Walker replied:
LOL, Yes I may have gotten a wee bit carried away on this one, up till 2 am finishing it. (I need mental help for sure). There are so many stories to tell with art, especially with abstracts, and I've been enjoying the time exploring one of many possible stories waiting to be discovered. My story here isn't one of my best written (if any are lol), but it was a surprise how the story unfolded for my protagonist. Hmmm...I like your cover art idea, you may have something there. Thanks Mum.