Mimi's Bar, Jane Halpern, Page 4
Mimi's bar opened on June nineteenth, 1994. There were papers stapled to trees for a hundred miles in every direction, and not a phone pole in the four local towns remained unplastered. Fliers were put up on bulletin boards in all the grocery stores in Oupalousas, Melville, New Roads, Baker, Baton Rouge, Donaldsonville, Morgan City, Franklin, Baldwin, and Lafayette. You might have thought a small army of interns, agents and school kids were working in tandem to create such a massive promotional effort - but no, it was all Mimi. Mimi in her dark red pickup truck with a thick stack of fliers by her side and more by her boots, and a staple gun that should have required a carry permit.
In the final days before her bar opened, Mimi barely left the kitchen, going only occasionally to the front porch to sign for the massive shipments of liquor that arrived in large yellow cardboard boxes. Mimi would sign with a hand that was wet and wrinkly from hours spent submerged in hot dishwater, then hand the pen back to the delivery man, who would take it with a look of faint distaste, then turn around and make tracks back to dry land, pushing his dolly briskly in front of him like a jogger pushes a baby carriage. Mimi dragged the boxes back into the bar and began stocking the shelves, six bottles deep.
The night of the eighteenth, she took a shower. She breathed deeply and prepared herself for the coming day. She washed her hair twice. When she got out of the shower her eyelashes were wet and dark and stress furrowed her forehead and gave her eyebrows a critical bent. She got dressed in a blue flannel shirt with little teal flecks, a pair of jeans, and a silver-studded belt she'd picked up in Arizona once. Her feet were bare. She sat down at her dresser and combed her hair out in front of the mirror, tying it back in one of her red bands. As she was doing it up, she thought she heard someone on the front porch. She went to the door of her room and leaned out to look down the hallway. There was, in fact, someone standing on the porch, knocking on the wooden rim of the screen door.
"Bar's closed," she called experimentally. "Opens tomorrow."
"Open up Mimi, it's me." It was Marty Merkle. Mimi came out of the hallway and crossed the floor in her bare feet, not a wise move because the floor was still filled with splinters.
"Marty, what are you doing here?" she asked as she opened the screen door for him.
"Just checking it out," he said. He was leaning backwards and looking up at the underside of the porch roof, noting the solid construction.
Mimi leaned against the doorjamb, watching him look. He finally got back around to her.
"Nice," he said in a tone of voice more subdued than usual. "Can I come in?"
She let him.
He sat down on one of the stools.
"What'll it be?"
"Just a beer."
She got him one and leaned on the bar across from him.
"So," he said. "You ready?"
"I suppose," Mimi said. She did not feel like answering to Merkle as one would to a supervisor.
"Are you going to tend bar yourself?"
"Maybe. I might bring someone else in to do it if it gets too busy."
Marty nodded and took a long swig of his beer. "That's good."
"Yeah." Mimi reached under the inside rim of the bar and broke off a splinter before it could get a chance to embed itself in someone's hand. She held it up for a moment as if studying it would reveal untold secrets, then flicked it off in the direction of the trash bin.
Marty searched his mind for something to say to his ex-wife.
"I told someone up at the office you were opening tomorrow... she said she'd spread it around."
"That's considerate."
"I'm single now."
"Thank you, Marty, for that totally irrelevant piece of information."
"Have we had this conversation before?"
"Maybe."
"Boy, you're going to make one hell of a bartender."
"I'm saving my fire."
"You look tired."
"You know, I think that's the first honest thing you've said to me in four years. And yes, I am tired. Thank you for noticing."
"You're welcome... who did your pool tables?"
"Eckerdson."
"Oh. They're good."
"Yeah, I thought so too." They both stared at the pool tables.
"..."
"..."
"It's going to be a good bar."
"Yes. Yes, it is."
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