What is time? Dmitri silently asks himself as he sits alone in a bar, nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He has no answers, only guesses. Is it simply a concept created by man? Or is it something real, something organic?
Dmitri’s always been somewhat interested in the concept of time. It isn’t at all his area of expertise, just something he likes to ponder every once in a while. He considers time to be weird, almost off-putting, but fascinating, nonetheless. Except for when it rattles around his mind uncontrollably with no sign of vacating anytime soon, that is. Then it just becomes pesky and useless. Is it just a linear device of measurement? Are we all just moving from Point A to Point B in the timeline of the cosmos? He watches as one of the bartenders, a girl probably about the same age as him with long, dark red hair and dressed all in black, lazily drifts over to the opposite end of the bar to refill someone’s glass.
He’s not entirely sure how he got on the topic of time this evening. He marks it up as either general curiosity, underlying anxiety, or perhaps the beginnings of a mid-life crisis, despite him only being 28 and not at all in a state of crisis. Or is it more fluid than that? Perhaps it’s not so linear; could we instead be moving from Point B to Point A? Dmitri watches again as the same bartender moves back to her previous position at the quiet end of the bar where he is sitting.
Dmitri’s supposed to be enjoying himself, per the orders of his friends, who told him to just get out of the apartment and give himself something to do. They said to go explore downtown Manhattan, take some time to relax, work on breaking out of his comfort zone. But the moment he stepped out the front door, his mind went on a climb, and he hasn’t been able to shut it off since. Are our lives pre-determined based on some evolutionary track record? Or are we defined by our supposed sense of free will? He watches the girl for a moment as she rests against the end of the bar and stares blankly at her phone. She briefly fidgets with her necklace, a small geode of sorts that, under the dim lighting of the room, shimmers faintly with luminescent shades of gold. Dmitri unknowingly starts fidgeting with his own necklace.
I’ve always sort of subscribed to the theory of time being the fourth dimension—the idea that our actions have no purpose, no meaning, unless they’re defined by the when, as opposed to the who, what, or where. Because, really, if you can’t connect your actions to a time for when they happened, well, did they really happen at all then? Dmitri adjusts his glasses before taking another sip of his drink, nearly finishing it. Why did I think drinking would help?
Quickly glancing over his shoulder, Dmitri takes stock of the other lively individuals in the old-fashioned bar. He notices an intimate couple trying hard to make sure their sexual antics aren’t so overt. There’s a group of four friends having a heated yet hilarious argument, something to do with the continuity of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Several guys hang around the billiards table at the back of the bar, failing consistently to make any shots, but still enjoying themselves. Look at all them. Living in the moment. Not a care for anything other than what life puts right in front of them. Not a single thought for what’s beyond all of this. I envy them.
“You having another?” the bartender Dmitri had been watching asks, catching the young man by surprise as she looks at him plainly and gestures to his near-empty glass.
“Uh…” Dmitri looks at the glass, then back to the girl, meeting her deep blue eyes as she gives him a disinterested stare. It’s plain to see she doesn’t want to be here, which leaves him wondering, Why is she here in the first place? Necessity, probably. Another soul bound by the confines of mortality. Jesus Christ, are you listening to yourself, dude? Get another drink. He shrugs and adjusts his glasses again. “Yeah, why not?” he answers. “Jameson, please. On the rocks.”
Dmitri watches the young girl grab a fresh glass, fill it with ice, and pour out a little more liquor than he would have liked, but he’s not about to complain. At the same time, the girl scans the bar to make sure her coworkers aren’t watching her. Seeing as how everyone’s busy with other customers, she pours herself a shot as well, subtly holding it up to Dmitri.
“Cheers, eh?” she says, throwing the shot back with little effort and letting out a satisfied, “Aah.”
Dmitri gives a chuckle. “Yeah, uh, cheers,” he responds, taking a long swig of his whiskey. The light burn of the liquor works well to remove him from his own thoughts, if only for a moment. “Should you really be doing that?” he quietly asks the bartender.
She shrugs. “Honestly, I’m not really getting paid enough to give a shit. I figure, what can it hurt, right?”
Dmitri fakes a smirk. “I guess that’s fair.” It’s probably not fair at all, though, since bartenders taking shots whenever they please could technically be considered stealing profits from the bar, but he, like the bartender, really couldn’t care either way. She’s got moxie, I’ll give her that.
“So,” the girl continues before Dmitri can get lost in his head again, “Mister Jameson. What brings you to our wonderful establishment this fine evening?” Sarcasm drips off of every word she says.
Dmitri stares confusedly at her for a moment, wondering who the hell Mister Jameson is, before looking to his drink and chuckling. “Oh, I see what you did there. That’s funny.” He scratches at his chin and feigns a cool composure, though his mind is racing, unable to determine whether or not he actually wants to engage in a conversation with this girl. “Just trying to have a fun night out.” he states, keeping it simple.
“You an introverted type?”
Right on the money, this one. Not bad. “Yeah, something like that.”
The girl nods and flashes him a grin as she leans forward on the counter. “Yeah, the glasses and hairdo are kind of a dead giveaway.”
Dmitri instinctively starts running a hand through his hair, hoping it’s still neat and combed properly. “What’s wrong with my hair?” he asks. He also realizes he needs to adjust his glasses again but fights the urge to do so to avoid looking silly.
The bartender reaches forward and rustles Dmitri’s dark hair, with little to no reservation about invading his personal bubble. “Nothing really, but if you knew where you were, you’d know you don’t have to look so proper. Loosen up a bit. Untuck your shirt. You’ll thank yourself.”
Dmitri does his best to fix his hair and unconsciously adjusts his glasses, earning a light giggle from the bartender. He has a hard time holding back a chortle, though, as he takes her advice about his shirt, pulling the bottom ends of his navy-blue flannel out from the waist of his pants.
“Better, right?” she affirms. Dmitri begrudgingly nods, unbuttoning the top two buttons as well. “Yeah, there you go. But honestly, in my professional opinion, you picked, like, the worst spot to spend your night out.”
Dmitri once again looks around at the other bar patrons, all of them laughing, drinking, enjoying themselves. It’s a perfect picture of drunken vigor. And once again, the thought crosses his mind: Lucky bastards. Why do they get to have a good time and I just get… time?
“What’s so bad about this place?” he asks the bartender. “Seems just fine to me.”
The girl hurriedly starts wiping down the bar, despite there being no stains or spilt spirits. “Yeah, it looks fine from your side. Back here, it’s a very different story. Like I’m stuck in my own shitty corner of the world.” She shoots a quick glance down to the other end of the bar. Dmitri tries to subtly match her gaze and notices a man posturing like he’s someone important looking towards the bartender. Dmitri figures the guy is probably the manager checking to make sure she’s actually doing her job.
“Sadie,” the man barks after a moment, gesturing for the bartender to head his way.
“See what I mean,” she whispers to Dmitri before stepping off.
He stifles a chuckle. “Uh, good luck?” he mutters just before she’s out of ear shot. Well, she’s… interesting.
Sadie shuffles over to her manager. She’s already playing out in her head the dozen or so different ways the impending scolding could go, and each one is more hilarious and/or banal than the last. It’s always the same old shit, repeating like a monotonous dial tone. Don’t dress like this, or don’t drink that, or stop leaving glasses on the bar, or why is that bottle two inches off from where it’s supposed to be? Fucking hell. Get a life, Dave.
“What’s up?” Sadie greets him, feigning some sort of unknowing innocence.
“Sadie,” Dave says, wearing a bored expression, like he’s already fed up with the conversation. “What’ve I told you about flirting with the customers?”
Ah, so we’re going with this one. Typical. Can’t even make light conversation with a guy without getting in trouble for it. “Um, I wasn’t? He needed a refill, and I had to clean up a bit over there. No biggie.” Except, for Dave, everything’s a biggie. He’s the kind of micro-managing asshole that every employee dreads dealing with. And in Sadie’s case, it’s like the guy enjoys making her life a living hell.
“Just keep an eye open for other customers, alright? You’re here to work, not get laid.”
Pfft, yeah, like I could get laid working in a shithole like this. “Right. Sorry.”
“And Sadie,” Dave repeats, this time with a tone of finality. “Please, for the love of God, stop taking shots.”
Without another word, Sadie nods and turns to walk back over to her corner. Dammit. She mentally slaps herself. Not for getting caught, but for not having the guts to say something back. She’d love to throw the bullshit right back in Dave’s face, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Mostly because she knows such an act of defiance would get her fired. That wouldn’t be such a terrible outcome, but it’s not exactly be a viable one, either.
Before Sadie can make a full retreat, she’s stopped by two girls flagging her down. “‘Scuse us!” one of them calls to her.
“Yeah, what can I get you, girls?” she responds rather plainly, doing her best to put on a happy face.
“Just two Bud Lights, please.” Their cheer and pep aren’t overbearing in the slightest. Just two girls having a nice evening out, enjoying themselves, not making a scene about it or anything. Sadie can’t help but resent them and everyone else in the room for it.
Look at all them. Caught up in their own little worlds. Not a care for anyone or anything other than themselves. Pricks. But then Sadie is sort of guilty of the same crime, in a way. Caught in her own little shitty corner of the world. Hardly a care for what comes next, or even what came before. How could she care for such things when it’s literally all the same? But she’s not about to admit that to herself. Besides, she doesn’t really have time for a self-imposed, self-important identity crisis. She’s got a room full of assholes to deal with.
But as Sadie starts pouring out two pints of Bud Light for her customers, she finds herself looking back over at the guy she so graciously dubbed Mister Jameson. She watches him, lost in his glass of whiskey, probably bored out of his mind, looking like a fish out of water. And probably for the first time, Sadie thinks to herself, Now, there’s a guy who stands out.
She loses herself in her train of thought for a second, slightly spilling some of the first beer, but quickly rectifies the problem and sends the girls on their way after adding the drinks to their tab. With everything settled, she finally returns to her corner.
“Welcome back,” the young man quips to her. His comment comes somewhat as a surprise. Sadie hadn’t pegged him as the witty type.
“Yeah, thanks.” She doesn’t mean to sound disinterested, but she’s afraid of finding out the guy’s a prick, so she tries to get lost in her phone again.
“Not trying to pry, but everything alright?” he asks.
Sadie pauses. Then, just as quickly as her phone came out, it’s back in her pocket. “You’ve had asshole bosses before, right?”
Mister Jameson immediately nods. “I work in a financing office where everyone’s too uptight for their own good, so yeah,” he answers with a smirk. “I imagine you’re asking because your boss is an asshole?”
“Yep. I tell ya, dude, I’d give anything to walk out that door right now, middle fingers high, and never look back on this place.”
“So why don’t you? Why not find a new corner of the world?”
Wait, was he listening when I said that? There’s a pregnant pause as Sadie momentarily zones out; she’s been caught completely off guard. She can’t tell if this guy is just toying with her or if he might actually be sincere. Cynical as she may be of pretty much everyone who comes into the bar, she’s inclined to believe the ladder.
Her eyes eventually land back on him. The neat hair. Those soft brown eyes and the cute glasses surrounding them. The curious disposition. Who the hell are you, Mister Jameson? He fidgets with his peculiar necklace, a geode of sorts that, given the lighting in the room, has a light, golden shimmer to it.
She snickers. “Like I haven’t tried. No, this is sort of the hand that life dealt me. Just something I have to put up with. Gotta get paid, right? Speaking of which…” Sadie trails off and walks to the center of the bar, where another guy is waiting to be helped. This guy, with his messy hair, mismatched clothes, and a deliberately drunken look in his eyes hardly seems worth her time. What even is my time worth? The guy orders a round of shots for himself and his friends. She’s tempted to pour an extra for herself, but glances to see Dave watching her again. Dick.
Soon as she’s finished helping her customer, Sadie hastily walks back to the corner. She wants to say something to keep her conversation with Mister Jameson going, but she’s run out of steam, so she elects to ignore him. Or, at least, she tries to.
“Or maybe it’s the hand that time dealt you,” he suddenly chimes in.
Sadie stops in her tracks before she can reach her spot and looks at him, visibly confused. “What?”
The young man adjusts in his seat and leans in a little bit more. “Maybe it’s not the hand life dealt you, but the hand time dealt you. Like, people theorize our timelines are predetermined. It’s all written out before we even live it. So, maybe your timeline is prewritten to be this way.” Everything he just said depresses the hell out of Sadie. “Or,” the guy continues, now with what sounds like a bit more of a hopeful tone, “maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s ever-flowing, or ever-changing. And if that’s the case, then you should be able to exercise your free will, right? You should be able to make a change. Assuming free will is real, of course. The point being: you don’t need to be complacent with the hand you’ve been dealt. You’re not confined to the here and now. You don’t have to let it defeat you. You can… find that new corner. You know?”
A heavy silence simmers between the two of them. Sadie can feel the confusion welling up as she stares at the guy, who seems like he finally found his courage. That, or maybe the alcohol gave it to him. Either way, he seems really into… whatever that just was.
Sadie snickers. “Wow, you definitely don’t get out much.”
Mister Jameson shakily chuckles and hides his face in his palm. “Uh… yeah, I’ll just pay my tab and go.”
Sadie shakes her head. “No, no, you’re fine, dude.”
“Sorry. Seriously. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I’ve just… had time on my mind, is all.”
“Time?”
“Yeah, uh… yeah.” He gives a nod and takes a long sip of his drink.
Sadie gives him what she would actually consider a genuine smile. “Sounds fun.” She leans forward on the counter, getting a bit closer to him. “What’s your name?”
“Mister Jameson,” he jokes. They both laugh. “Dmitri.”
“That’s a nice name. I’m Sadie. Though, you probably already knew that.”
Dmitri chuckles again. “Yeah, I couldn’t help but overhear it from your asshole boss.” They share another laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Sadie.”
“Same. So, uh…” She passes a quick glance to see Dave still staring her way. Well, what do you know? She looks back at Dmitri with a smirk. “You got anywhere to be later?” she confidently asks him.
He stares back at her, seemingly stunned. “Uh…” He looks at the back of his wrist, as if checking a watch that isn’t there, which Sadie giggles at. “I don’t know why I did that. I don’t own a watch.” They laugh again. “No, I do not have anywhere to be.”
“My shift ends in about an hour. Think you can wait that long?”
Dmitri nods. “Yeah.”
“Cool.”
Dmitri is met with the droning sounds of an air conditioner as he slowly comes to consciousness, rubbing his eyes and letting out a tired groan. To his left, next to the bed he’s resting on, he finds a nightstand with a clock, which reads 11:41 AM, and a three-quarters-empty bottle of Knob Creek whiskey on it. The very sight of the liquor churns his stomach.
“Yep, that explains the aching,” he mutters to himself.
The bed creaks as he sits up and gets a better sense of his surroundings. Taking a quick glance around the fairly spacious bedroom, the sensation of unfamiliarity quickly becomes clear to him; this is not his abode. The bright, white walls alone are a stark contrast to the darker colors he’s used to back at his own apartment. He also doesn’t keep a plethora of makeup items at the ready on his desk. He definitely doesn’t have blue floral currents draped over his windows (although he’s now considering changing that). And much as he might like to be, he’s no artist, so the easel and painting canvas resting on it make for an interesting sight. The simple image of a sulking woman is plastered on the canvas, not quite finished but completed just enough that it might evoke an emotional response.
Dmitri also notices the trail of clothes leading from the door to the bed, which makes him chuckle. He looks down to confirm he’s wearing nothing but his geode necklace. So, ideally, a night well spent.
Looking over toward one of the windows, Dmitri notices Sadie sitting outside on the fire escape, dressed in some pajama pants and a white tank top, staring off into the distance and holding a mug likely filled with fresh coffee. Dmitri slowly stumbles out of bed, retrieving his clothes and glasses before heading to the window. He gives it a knock, and Sadie greets with a smirk. Dmitri opens the glass pane and leans his head outside, giving her a smile.
“Has anyone ever told you that you snore like a motherfucker?” Sadie bluntly asks.
Dmitri chuckles. “Uh, no, actually. That would’ve been nice to know. Sorry.”
She dismisses his apology. “You’re good. The a-c is loud enough that it mostly drowned you out.”
“Cool.” A moment of silence briefly settles between the two. “So…” Dmitri mutters, making sure the silence doesn’t get too awkward.
“So,” Sadie confidently replies.
“Last night was… fun?”
Sadie gives him an assuring nod. “For sure. I mean, this hangover sucks, but yes, last night was definitely fun.”
“Yeah. Mind if I join you out there?”
Sadie gestures for him to step out. She’s been waiting a little while now for her new friend to roll out of bed. She figured it would’ve been rude to wake him, though, so she left him to snore to his heart’s content. Made more sense to get her day started and work on fighting the blistering hangover.
As Dmitri sits down, Sadie’s eyes fixate back on the horizon. From where they’re sitting, they probably have ten or so minutes until the sun reaches them and the shade fades away. The apartment has a decent view of the city, with much of Central Park in plain sight. Sadie has often enjoyed sitting up here, watching the city in the early hours of the day. But this time around, doing so feels different. For once, it actually feels relaxing.
“Mind if I ask you something?” Dmitri continues as he gets comfortable sitting next to her. Sadie nods. “Why’d you ask me over last night?”
She shrugs. “Curiosity, I guess.” She turns and stares into his eyes with a smile. “I’ve been feeling stuck lately. Like I was never gonna be able to break out of my shitty routine. But what you said last night, crazy as it all sounded, made me realize that maybe everything’s not so hopeless.” She hesitantly takes Dmitri’s hand and slides a little closer towards him. “Just because things seem crummy now doesn’t mean they have to stay that way. I just have to be willing to take a chance. Because no one else is gonna live my life but me. So, I’d better make the most of it.”
Dmitri shies away from her a bit, his mind racing once again. Somehow, she made sense of his stupid ramblings. How the hell could anyone do that? Even he can’t make sense of it. Except… maybe he can. “No one is gonna live my life but me. So, I’d better make the most of it.” And just like that, he feels like everything’s just clicked into place.
Sadie gives him a curious look. “What?”
Dmitri looks back at her, now with a glimmer of conviction in his eyes. “You know, with everything I said last night, you’d think I was having some sort of existential crisis. But you’ve helped me figure a lot of it out. It doesn’t matter what time is. It just matters that it is. Time gives our lives meaning, and our lives give meaning to time. And since our time is finite, we’ve got to make the most of it.” He adjusts his glasses and starts fidgeting with his necklace. “Now, that probably still leaves a lot of unanswered questions about the whole thing, but honestly, I think I’m good with that now. Who needs all the answers to life and time and all that anyway? Having all the answers gets rid of all the fun.” He turns to look out at the city and nods. “Yeah, I think I’ll be just fine leaving it at that.” His mind feels infinitely lighter.
Sadie stares at him for a moment, completely befuddled, then laughs as she stands up and rests against the railing. “Well, I’m not entirely sure what the fuck any of that means, but I do know one thing: your insane ramblings gave me the confidence to quit my job, so thanks for that.”
Dmitri gives her a sharp look, snapping out of his catharsis. “Wait, what? You didn’t need to do that.” He stands up next to her.
“Oh, yes I did. I was miserable there. Trust me, you did me a favor. After all, that’s what we’re talking about, right? Taking chances? Making the most of our time? I had to get out of there. And, hey, so far,” she says, taking Dmitri’s hand again, “everything’s turned out pretty good.”
“Well, alright then.” He nods and winks. “Glad I could help.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” She inches closer to him. “You’re really something, Dmitri.”
He fights the urge to shy away once again. “I try my best.” His mind re-scrambles, though not because of some existential dread, but because he can’t think of an equally worthwhile compliment. “You…”
Sadie laughs as he pauses. “Go on, you got it.”
Then, much like the resolution to his temporal ramblings, a response becomes clear. “Thanks for spending your time with me. It’s been… perfect,” Dmitri tells her.
Sadie’s heart soars, and she kisses him. “No, thank you.”
Dmitri puts an arm around her and smiles. He then looks down to notice that, like him, Sadie is wearing her necklace. And only now does the similarity strike him. “Huh. You’d think I would’ve noticed that by now,” he says.
Sadie looks at the two necklaces and nods. “I think we’re matching, actually. Weird.”
“It’s a sign,” Dmitri jokes. “It’s like we’re…”
“Don’t say it.”
“Meant for each other.”
“Oh, fuck you!” Sadie complains, giving him a playful slap.
Dmitri laughs, then takes his necklace off and holds it up. Sadie does the same, holding her geode close to Dmitri’s. Giving each other an intrigued look of recognition, they slowly bring the two pieces together. They fit perfectly, forming a single stone.
“Would you look at that,” Dmitri says.
Sadie nudges him. “Alright, I’ll give it to you: maybe it is a sign.”
“Told you.”
The two come together for another kiss. It’s a precious and tender moment. But in their passion, they fail to hold the unified stone steady. It slips from their grasp, falling several stories below and crashing on the ground. They look down to see the stone somehow neatly split into two separate pieces once more.
“Shit,” Sadie exclaims.
“Eh, it’s alright,” Dmitri calmly replies.
“Speak for yourself, man. I liked that necklace.”
“I’ll buy you another one. Besides, we should let some other destined couple find it.”
“Oh, so now you’re a romantic type, are you?”
They both laugh and share yet another kiss. And after a moment of letting the sun shine brightly on their faces, they head back inside to begin something timeless.