The drinkery at the Ambassador in Washington, D.C., was typical of most motel watering holes. A flat screen TV hung over the bar and the lounge itself – which blended into the lobby – had five tables with a small candle situated in the middle of each one.
There was no one at the bar, so Mallory decided to grab a stool and watch the last couple of innings of the Baltimore-Boston baseball game.
“What’s your pleasure?” asked the bartender, a 60ish man with tightly curled white hair and a deeply lined face.
“Vodka and orange juice,” Mallory said. “Well brand is fine.”
Mallory’s bar routine back in Asheville, North Carolina, involved getting to Will O’ The Wisp early in the evening, where her drinking buddy Arlie would usually already be there – and be well on the way to getting lubricated.
Mallory would throw back some drinks, make the last call around 11, and spend the walk back to her apartment daydreaming about how much better her boyfriend’s life would be if she wasn’t in it.
Well, this getaway to the nation’s capital was her chance, and it was nearing its conclusion. Amidst all the planning that went into her solo trip, Mallory hadn’t really taken stock of the real reason for the “vacation.”
Yes, she had visited the Entertainment and Sports Arena to watch the Washington Mystics play the Atlanta Dream, but that was all just window dressing, really. In actuality, she was running away from what had become her home and running toward her original home.
At some point later that night, she’d go back to her hotel, send her boyfriend, Mike, a “Dear John” text, and then disappear from his life forever.
It was like entering the Federal Witness Protection Program, only she wasn’t the target of criminals – at least not in the traditional sense.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love Mike – she absolutely did. But the situation was untenable, and there was no way she could explain why; he simply wouldn’t believe her.
That was a sobering thought, and Mallory didn’t want to be sober yet.
So, one drink became two and two became six, and as the buzz kicked in, she noticed the bartender seemed to be keeping a close eye on her.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Mallory said. “I’m not driving anywhere. In fact, I’m just a couple of doors down.”
The bartender laughed.
“Good to know,” he said. “I send for a lot of cabs and I needed to make sure you were riding and not driving anywhere. My name’s Carl, by the way.”
Other than ordering drinks, Mallory had stayed quiet most of the night, but as patrons ducked in and ducked out for a quick snort, Mallory decided it might be nice to have someone to talk to.
“Nice to meet you, Carl,” Mallory said. “I’m staying here for a couple of days and got to watch a WNBA game live. I’ve grown to love basketball over the past several years, and it was nice to be at the arena to see it live.”
“Are you here by yourself?” Carl asked.
“I am,” Mallory said. “I’m from North Carolina and I’m kinda running away from home. I, uh … I just need to get away from my boyfriend. It’s for his own good.”
“Trust me … it makes sense – perfect sense,” said Carl, wiping down the counter. “I took a solo road trip myself a couple of years ago. Drove all the way to the West Coast and back, just to see the sights.”
“Cool,” Mallory said. “That had to be a lot of fun.”
Carl managed a weak smile and paused before answering.
“It was more therapeutic than anything,” Carl said. “I had just lost my wife. We had planned a cross country trip together but she died suddenly. Not unexpectedly, but suddenly.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Mallory said. “I’m sure that would’ve meant a lot to her – you know, being able to travel the country with you.”
“Well, we still got to go,” Carl said. “She was cremated, so I took her with me. At every stop we’d talked about – places in Oklahoma, New Mexico, Nevada – I’d scatter some of her ashes. Thing is, she didn’t have to die … if only I’d done what you’re doing, things would’ve been different for her. ”
Mallory ordered one more drink, downed it, and laid down a 100-dollar bill.
“Thanks for your hospitality, Carl,” Mallory said. “And advice. Just keep the change.”
Carl crumpled the bill, stuffed it into his pocket and gently grabbed Mallory’s right shoulder.
“You’re doing the right thing, Mallory, even though it hurts.” he said. “Be safe … and know he’ll be well.”
Mallory nodded, and gave him a knowing wink. She then scurried out of the bar, walked out of the main door of the Ambassador, punched in coordinates on her phone, and eyed the night sky.
If things were different, she would head back to Mike immediately, give him a big, lingering hug, and tell him she loved him more than anything on earth.
And it was true – she did.
But mating with a human was the ultimate taboo on her planet, and she knew if she didn’t leave earth, the bounty hunters from Luyten b would find Mike and kill him.
Sadly, Carl – and his wife – had already been given an object lesson in how cruel interplanetary justice can be.