Suburban Confessional - Part 6

There is a building on the Terrace that no one ever really looks at. It’s hidden behind bus stops full of suited business folk who walk past it every day and do not give it even a second glance. Because it isn’t a high rise building or a shopping complex no one even notices it there. From the front it doesn’t even look occupied. The façade is made out of old stone with columns growing besides the doors which has chips and grayed with age and pollution leaving quite an overbearing structure for anyone who took a few moments to look at her. The windows on the bottom floor are blacked out from the inside, as if derelict for years. Between the pillars is the front door which, sadly like everything else in this city, has succumb to the hands of young men wishing to make their mark on the world. The building itself looks like a woman past her prime, despite still being beautiful she has been ravaged by age and man and is now surround by younger and prettier models until she completely faded into the back ground. This building, like a lady past her prime, if you look beyond the imperfections of the outer you will see something inside her that is beyond any expectations.1

Along side this building there is a small alley way. Any respectable person would fasten their pace when they walk by. It is dark, cold and ominous, a place that you see on cops shows where the body is found. There is one light down there that is often either broken or flickering. Even in daylight the alley is cold and dark as it is buried in the shadows of the towering steel and glass buildings beside it. The city as it grows sucks the light of anything in its path, no matter how insignificant that space may seem. The city is like a cancer, its grows and spreads and slowly sucks the life of anything it comes in contact with until the day comes when there is nothing left of the old and it is left to die whilst the new spreads onto another to consume. But nothing is as it seems. For those who are brave enough to venture down this crime movie alley way will find something at the end that will surprise and make one think that maybe as long as there are those left who hope then this disease will not consume all.2

At the end there is a purple door. Despite the darkness this door always seems to shine a little above that. Some literal thinkers say it’s simply because of the colour but I like to think it because of what lies within. This door is only opened to a select few, simply because it is only a select few who know of its existence. Behind it you will not find any yuppies with their cell phones and lap tops. You will find something which is not common in a big terminal city, you’ll find some humanity. You will find my second most favorite place in the world. You will find, what is simply called, The Purple Door.3

I walked up to the perfectly painted door and knock. It opens slowly, a face peaking out at first as if checking if it’s safe despite the obvious lack of anything that even resembles danger. It is all too familiar to me. The door flies open revealing the man behind the face. Before I could even comprehend who was there I had a warm and a little over bearing pair of arms around my body, squeezing every last breath out of my lungs, whilst Becca stood beside me, bewildered. 4

“Evie! Sweet heart! Babes!” I hear muffled through the arms that enveloped me. I manage to break free, compose myself and say back very dryly “Good evening Austin, had one too many already?” 5

He smiles, turns to walk away back to his hiding hole on the couch in the corner in a self determined strut, “Never!”6

The Purple Door is unique to say the least. That’s perhaps why I tend to find myself so at home here. It is essentially a bar. Well that is its core purpose anyways however it often offers to be much more than that for those who have found it, a home for the night, a place to let others watch your heart break or a place where you may be able to share the happiest and most special moments of your life. Regardless it is much more than your generic alcohol serving image obsessed bar. 7

Inside you will find a place which seems overly familiar to everyone who enters. There are old mismatched couches scattered around the surprisingly large space. Not a single one looks like it was ever brand new, some are even torn around the edges. Actually I don’t think anything has ever been bought for this place. Its all been picked up from street corners during rubbish collection weeks or from donations from customers who have been evicted or have been forced to move back in with their parents. The tables are also of an equally unimpressive state. Between two of the couches there is what is essentially a graffiti covered piece of ply wood nailed to two pallet boxes which doubles as a coffee table. Other than the bar this is one of the few places to actually leave your drinks. The bar itself is something to behold. It is made from what seems to be an old sheet of corrugated iron, which has had the shit beaten about of it. The top is equally as wonderful, and quite personally my favorite idea for recycling I have ever seen in my life. The top, being the only one in the world I hope, is entirely made out of the sides of old eskies. Proof that you can take the drink out of the eski but you can never take the eski out of drinking.8

This bar is the first sign of The Purple Door’s clientele. It, like most of the items in there were either made, designed or lovingly defaced by the many self proclaimed artists that fills its walls. And boy does the Door love to cater for them. In the corner of the room there is a makeshift stage. Lovingly surrounded by fairy and patio lights is a mic stand, an amp and a chair. I don’t think there has been a single night of the week when there hasn’t been someone up there at some point. The door never pays for any musicians, it doesn’t need to. When you have a room full of hippies and artists someone is bound to have a guitar to play, a song to sing, a self indulgent poem to read or a fight to pick with someone. Generally I try to avoid the stage as I have no detainable talent in any of those areas, however apparently one night I did get up there and say something but I can’t remember what I said and there is a silent rule at the door that anything said up on the mic that can’t be remember by the person who said it then they are not to be reminded. It stills worries me with what I said, but it couldn’t have been too bad cause I was allowed back in two days later. 9

As usual I head towards the bar, completely oblivious for a second that I have Becca behind me, looking slightly dazed and ever so slightly scared. Although we had worked together for quite a while I’d never brought her here. To me it was somewhere special and I guess I only really wanted to properly introduce a person to my world until I knew I can trust them. Admittedly Bec and I had been out together a couple of times but that was just to the glorious tacky themed pubs and badly thought out on my part an Irish themed pub. Not wise to take a genuine Irishman into those places. Just ends in tears, a pint of Guinness over some overly zealous mans lap and a one way ticket out the door. Then again it was at that point that I realized that maybe she would fit in quite well at The Door. 10

“Come on Becca,” I said grabbing her wrist, “we won’t bite, unless you ask us to of course. Then you’ll be in for a good night.” I gave her a comforting smile and I saw that her bravado had kicked in and she held her head high and swaggered over to the bar with me. “Well Evie I wouldn’t mind being bitten by your mate.” I can’t help but laugh a little at this prospect, considering he was biting me last night.11

“Hey Stevie!!!” I bellow across the bar, until a rather unassuming yet somewhat disturbingly attractive face pops out from the door leading to the back, which breaks into a wry smile when he see’s who is calling him, “Stop watching the fucking TV you lazy prick and get me a damn drink!” He storms out of the back room with a face of thunder and head over to where Becs and I are standing. I sure know how to push his buttons and I can tell he means business. So can Becca who has taken a step back from the incoming bartender. Stevie gets to the bar, right in my face and slams his hands down in front of me. I don’t move but just stare straight back at him… and wink. 12

“Evie!!!” he says as he vaults over the counter and crashes back down on me, nearly knocking me to the ground. Becca is horrified. Stevie wobbles on one leg trying to keep his footing. He grabs my sides with both his hands pinning my arms to the curves of my waist, pulls me in and just stares into my face. His eyes tell me one of two things are about to happen, either of which can’t be overly bad. He raises his hand to my face and grabs me tightly around the jaw. I can feel his warm liquor tainted breath on my cheek, and I stand still and defiant. He knows he won’t beat me at this game, he knows whatever the next move is I am going to win this battle. He knows he has to make his move now or never and all I can do is wait for it. He smiles, and pushes me back against the bar. I can feel everyone’s eyes on us. Not that this is an unusual scene to them but it is still one that can prove to be entertaining. Stevie smirks down at me with an air of menace. “Your move” I whisper in his face, licking my lips with my tongue as I speak. His dark brown eyes seem as though they are turning black as they flick back and forth following mine. “Sure,” he says under his breath as he pulls me in to him tight and kisses me, long and hard. 13

God I love this bar.14

I bite his lip as I push his away, “So can I please get my drink now? I think I need it after that poor effort.” He smiles and jumps back over the bar. The faint noise of controlled sniggers is coming from the rest of the room, which are quickly dampened by the ice cold stare Stevie radiates out from behind the bar. Generally speaking it is not a good idea to piss off the person who supplies you with your escape in a bottle. His eyes move away from them and focus back on me, “Ok fine you win, what are you getting yourself comatose on tonight?”But before I had a chance to answer him or even give him a sarcastic look, he is already cracking a red bull open in one hand and pouring the vodka in tall glass with the other. He is always very very generous when it comes to the vodka. “Thanks,” I say as I pour the red bull into the empty half of the glass, “You know me way too well.” 15

“A little too well,” He mutters as he rests against the bar, propping himself up on his elbow, “And what’s your friend drinking?” 16

Shit! I had completely forgotten about Becca. And my god she must be freaking out right now, considering the behavior she’s seen since she walked through the door. “Oh I’m so sorry, this gorgeous creature is Rebecca. I work with her.” I sheepishly say trying to seem flattering to hopefully hide the fact that for the last five minutes I had completely forgotten about her entire existence. Stevie wipes his hands clean with his trademark velvet bar cloth he keeps tucked away in his even more trademark waistcoat pocket. I watch him as he does it. I’ve always been a fan of his unusual style. Stevie, tends to dress in a very unique yet oddly attractive manner. That’s the best way to describe Stevie, he’s oddly attractive. His hair is always a mess of almost black curls which tend to spring out sideways which get more and more disheveled as they grow, but on the other hand he is always dressed impeccably in various colored and patterned waist coast which always come with an equally varying colored piece of velvet tucked carefully in the pocket. Tonight it was black. As he tucked it back into his pocket he reached out his hand and took Becca’s, “And my name is Steven,” he says as he raises it smoothly to his mouth to kiss like a French romantic in the movies, “But you my dear can call me Stevie.” I can see Becca loves it, despite her Irish charm she is a sucker for a sweet guy. And that is the reason why she is penniless and still here. 17

“Hi. I prefer Becca. I’d say Evie’s told me all about you but unfortunately she hasn’t” She says sweetly with her sarcastic Irish tongue knowing full well she has caught me in a rather unforgivable friendship faux pa. Stevie slowly lets go of her hand and without bending up turn his head even slower to look at me with both indigence and disappointment. Damn Becca! I knew she would get me back for ignoring her, I just was hoping she wouldn’t. I suppose I better explain before Stevie attempts to, “Um.. Stevie and I.. are… um.. old friends.” 18

“Oh bullshit Evie!” he harps up as he jumps and sits on the bar, “Now Becca, me and Evie use to, well, “date”. Ok maybe date isn’t the right word. We had a relationship” Oh god I can feel my nervousness filling up inside me, I hate it when the story of ex boyfriends comes up. Men simple do not understand there is some things you don’t tell bring up at the first meeting. But undeterred by my nervous stirring he continues, “But here’s the catch, your friend here dumped me! And that was the end of that.” 19

I couldn’t let that one go, “Well actually we just decided to call it a day. WE both agreed it was the right thing to do.” 20

This was the truth. Stevie was the nicest guy I had even known and to be honest I think I was really in love with him at some point. He looked after me and we had so much fun together. And boy did he care about me a lot. He was the first guy I had ever met that seemed to like me for me, never tried to change me, never expected anything from me and most importantly didn’t treat me like something that can be used to scratch an itch then run into the ground. We actually met here of all places, when I first started following Austin to The Door about two years ago. And the more time I spent here (and naturally it did become more and more regular) the more time I spent with Stevie. Most nights I used to hang around after the bar was closed and help him clean up and it gave us a chance to get to know each other on a level beyond barman and customer. And eventually we fell into this relationship. It was romantic and wonderful and he did everything that a loving boyfriend was supposed to do. He gave me space when I needed it and he was there when I needed him but despite all that something was never quite right. I still don’t know what that was but to both of us it was obvious that there wasn’t something quite right going on. After about six months, of what appeared to be a perfectly functional and stable relationship we both just sat down one day, look at each other and both realized that it wasn’t going to work and that we should stop kidding ourselves and move on. And that we did. We both went down our separate paths despite the fact they we’re intertwined. That being said there is no animosity between us, in fact I think as friends we are closer than we ever were as a couple and I think that’s going to work much better. Sometimes I do wonder however what would have happened if we had worked out. In every way he was perfect, and to be honest with myself a part of what he told Becca was true. I did dump him, because I know deep down that my self-destructive streak was what pushed him away in the end. If I could have allowed myself to let go and let him be perfect for me maybe it would have worked, but I wasn’t prepared to go that extra mile just then.21

“Well isn’t someone a little defensive,” Becca smiled, she knows she found the right button the push. Stevie looks at me with almost a pity in his eyes and smiles at me, a smile that still warms me because it’s the same caring smile he used to give me. “Nah, she’s right. It was joint decision.” I smile back at him with my eyes to thank him, and his eyes tell me that he knows. 22

Again he swings back over to his side of the bar. He’s very overly bouncy today. “So what is she drinking?” he asks me with a smile. Ah this should be interesting seeing as Becca’s a virgin Door girl. “Um excuse me I’m right here,” Becca chirps up indignantly, “ And I would like a rather large gin and tonic, if that’s not too much trouble?” I just love her sarcasm, it sounds so much better with her Irish broad behind her. Sounds like she is about to start a fight or make the whole congregation of the bar join her in the closing number of “River Dance.” You have to love Irish stereotyping, especially when the one your stereotyping lives up to one of them. “Well, actually, it is” Stevie replies not missing a beat. And that is when I see something that I generally don’t see, I see Becca get verbally knocked on her arse. “You see Becca, this bar is a little different to most,” he continues before she can get a bewildered word in, “In this bar we technically only serve three kinds of drinks; beer, red wine or white wine.”23

“But you just gave Evie a red bull and vodka?”24

“Ahh you see I did say technically,” he continues , after saying this speech so many times to “Door” virgins he must know it off by heart. It still remains, none the less, entertaining to sit back and watch. “If you haven’t noticed our clientele here is rather, well, exclusive. Or to put it better, limited. So how can we justify purchasing rather expensive top shelf alcohol if no one intends to drink it? I’m not paying $300 a bottle for some touch notch whisky, only to have to charge $30 dollars a glass for anyone to drink it, which looking around no one here can clearly afford to pay.”25

“Ok, that makes an odd kind of sense.” Becca replies as she thirstily eyes my red bull, “ But that still doesn’t explain where Evie’s drink came from.”26

He smiles and leans over the bar to talk quiter, “Ahh this is the real clever part. We at the Purple Door like to cater to our loyal customers which are few and far between. Evie is one of those gracious few and therefore we cater for her. Her poison of choice is and always has been vodka with any mixer, more recently being energy drinks, so therefore we buy a bottle of vodka and the mixers exclusively for her and charge her a minimum mark up to drink them.”27

“Minimum my ass!” I quip up. He snap his head at me, raises his finger to his lips, makes a short shhing noise and snaps his head back to Becca, “ As I was saying, we charged the minimum mark up.”28

“Yeah but you have a bottle of gin over there on the shelf behind you”29

“Ahh you see but that’s not yours. That’s Mad Marks, whose nick name by the way is completely justified if he is off his meds, and therefore I can only serve it to him. Unless that is of course he is prepared to share with you, which is very unlikely to happen.”30

“And why do you suppose that?” Becca is clearly getting frustrated now, and quite frankly I don’t blame her considering she’s been in a bar nearly half an hour, talking to the bar men who is refusing to pour her a drink from an almost full bottle sitting on a shelf behind him.31

“Because my little Irish sweet heart, he is mad and asking Mad Mark, who is currently off his meds, for a shot of his own personnel gin is well… mad. So until I deem you fit to have your own bottle of something on my shelf, I would simply suggest that you either choose between our tempting house wines, or a beer.” He says smugly as he pulls two wine bottles and a beer can from under the bar. He loves that speech so very much, you can just tell by the ways his eyes twinkle with satisfaction when its over. He doesn’t get many new customers so an opportunity is few and far between. And I swear the power is like sex to him. A sarcastic orgasm.32

Becca snatches the beer from him, slams five bucks on the bar and spots Austin sitting on one of the beat up couches against the side wall with a group of guy who seem familiar but not familiar enough for me to know their names. “Well now I have a drink, I’m off to get better acquainted with your flat mate.” She says as she struts away from both Stevie and I in the direction of Austin. It appears that Becca has got over the initially shock of the place and is making herself at home. “But I haven’t even introduced you yet?” All she does is shrug her shoulders without even turning back. This is the Becca I know, ridiculously arrogant; a trait which can both be a positive in a place where you’re completely alone and you need to make new friends at the drop of a hate and negative because you can easily push arrogance into complacency and that’s when bad things happen to you. Everyone here, despite being a little fucked up are generally good people who seem to take care of their own and I hope that by being here with people who aren’t looking to take advantage of her she won’t get herself in anymore trouble. Everyone needs someone to look out for them even if they don’t know it, especially when you have no one. I can understand that. 33

“Have fun!” I bellow back but she’s already half way across the room and too focused on her goal to hear me. 34

“She reminds me of you.” 35

“What?” I ask as I reach into my hand bag. My pills are overdue and I’m starting to feel it. Just trying to keep myself standing is getting difficult and I am forced to lean against the bar36

“She reminds me of you,” Stevie starts as he walks around the bar and offers me a bar stool before taking one himself, “ You were like her when you first came in here with Austin. Starting out like a lost puppy but within minutes you were walking around like you owned the place.”37

Got them! “I was so not a lost puppy!” I laugh as I pull my pills out of my bag and crack three out onto the bar. Stevie doesn’t say anything but shakes his head, he doesn’t like me taking them in his bar but he understands that I don’t have much of choice and knows that nothing but banishment is going to stop me. So he doesn’t even bother trying anymore. I put my purse down on the bar, pick up the pills and my drink and down them. Over the top of the glass I can see Becca laughing with Austin and the other guys on the couch. I’m so glad her and Austin are getting on. Makes life a lot easier if they were friends. Steve takes the glass from my hand and takes a sip himself, “I think you may have been replaced.” 38

“Come on Stevie, “I say snatching my glass back, “You know I’m irreplaceable.”39