This is my life: a condo without any photos on the walls and a dog who sometimes doesn’t even get out of her bed when I come home. This is my busy, important, successful, safe, andemptylife.
I never knew how hollow it all was until I learned what it was like to be filled.
Madame Bovary leaves me to trot over to the kitchen, and I straighten back up. I move my gaze from the closed door to my pocket and pull out my phone.
I’m not going back to this life. I can’t, and with a dull sort of surprise, I realize I know exactly what I have to do next.
Eighteen
Monroe
DRAIN POUR: Slang term used by beer brewers and tasters to indicate a beer of subpar quality not fit for consumption
“Thankyou all for coming in today. I know noon is the equivalent of the crack of dawn for a lot of you.”
A ripple of laughter passes through Taverne Toulouse’s staff where they’re all crowded around a few of the cable spool tables, but the sound dies quickly, crushed by the heaviness in the air.
“As many of you know, the bar has had some struggles this year. Winter was hard on sales, and we’re still busting our asses just to meet last year’s targets even now. I know working in a place where your hours are being cut and your coworkers are being let go is far from enjoyable, and I’m sorry you’ve all had to go through that. I just want to let you know how much I appreciate your work ethic and enthusiasm despite the circumstances. Even with all the bad things, there’s never been a day when I wasn’t happy to come to work, and that’s because of you guys. Thank you.”
DeeDee lets out a whoop before bringing her hands together and leading the group in a round of applause. I want to smile at their cheering, at the way several of them shout, “No, thankyou!” over the noise, but this is only making it harder to do what I have to do next.
“Many of you have worked here for years,” I continue, “but no matter when you started, you’ve all come to be part of what makes this place so...so special to me.” Oh god, I’m breaking down already. I had a formal speech all prepared—something suitably brief and businesslike to keep me from totally losing it in front of my staff, but I’m already going off book. “We’ve had a good run. I couldn’t ask for better.”
I know they must be expecting what’s coming, but this is the first actual indication I’ve made. Not even DeeDee was in on the announcement.
“Taverne Toulouse is closing down.MonsieurFournier is selling the property. They wanted me to hold off on telling you for a few weeks since we’ll still be open until a buyer is found, but I know many of you will want to start looking for new job. I’m not going to blindside you after everything you’ve done for this place, and I’ll be more than happy to give you all excellent references.”
‘Happy’ is the farthest thing from what I feel. It’s the farthest thing from what’s written on faces of the people looking up at me. A few show traces of shock, like they’re still processing what’s going on, and the rest are a mixed bag of dismay, alarm, and grim resignation.
It’s almost like staring into a mirror.
I did my best to push Julien’s rejection aside. I tried my hardest to not sit there waiting for a phone call that never arrived as I turned over every leaf in the book searching for a way to save this bar, but I don’t have the money to buy Taverne Toulouse. I don’t know anyone who does. The numbers aren’t there. The math doesn’t add up. This is one quandary I can’t solve with duct tape and few whacks from a wrench. This equation has no favourable outcome—at least not for me.
Or the people in front of me.
The best I can do is lead them out of here with my head held high. I’ll personally walk them into every bar in this city until they all have new jobs. I’ll do what it takes to make sure they don’t end up worse off because of me and the things I failed to accomplish.
My dreams aren’t going to come true, but then again, I’ve always been much better at chasing other people’s dreams for them.
“You should buy it!”
The shout comes from Dylan, and a few other staff members echo their agreement.
“You do everything for fucking Fournier,” he continues. “This place is already more yours than his.”
I’m always careful to avoid using my fond epithets for Fournier in front of the staff—DeeDee excluded—but they’ve adopted them all the same. I bite back a grin to keep myself from looking too pleased about it.
“Believe it or not,” I reply, “I did consider that. I looked into what it would take to buy this place—even just a share—and it’s just not going to happen, guys. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Admitting I failed them hurts more than admitting I failed myself. I reach behind me and grip the edge of the bar for support.
“I’ll buy a share!” Dylan shouts. “Hell, I’ve bought a share’s worth of beer from this place over the years. Might as well start putting my money into something useful.”
“Seconded!” Zach calls out. “Put me down for a share too.”
“I think I can only afford a mini share,” DeeDee admits, “but I’ll give you whatever I’ve got,choufleur!”
She pulls her wallet out and waves a twenty around before jumping to her feet and making her way around the group, demanding they fork up whatever is in their pockets.
