Though old people reminiscing about the past was common enough, it was rare for Old John to talk about his wartime experiences. He only brought them up occasionally when he was in a particularly good mood.
When he talked about those things, he did not expect any response.
Perhaps it had something to do with having spent most of his life alone, becoming accustomed to entertaining himself.
He spoke of the heroes he had met during the war, how many fascists they had killed, and whom they had saved. He also spoke of how, during those hardest days, he had met his wife and married her after the war.
He spoke of that woman's virtues and every little detail of their life together.
At times like that, Henry only needed to be a patient listener.
He did not even need to offer the sort of responses listeners were supposed to give, like "And then?" He just had to keep his mouth shut and lend an ear.
Of course, Henry was busy eating that night. Once he finished, he made more food, then kept eating.
Old John kept talking under the influence of alcohol, as if he were dreaming, with everything that had once happened unfolding again before his eyes.
By the time the old man finally collapsed asleep, it was past seven in the morning. But in wintertime Alaska, it was still dark outside, and the house still needed electric lights.
After carrying him into the bedroom and putting him on the bed, Henry cleaned up the kitchen and started tidying the bar.
Old John did clean once after closing every day, but dust was the kind of thing that accumulated all the time.
Henry dusted away those little nuisances, then repaired a few things that were on the verge of breaking. By Old John's habits, he would wait until something was completely unusable before dealing with it.
Henry was not used to doing things that way. Limited repairs were also a form of maintenance and could extend an item's lifespan.
The reason Old John waited until repairs were unavoidable before getting to work was, in part, because his physical strength was no match for a younger man's. He could not keep up with everything.
Once the preparations for opening were finished, Henry flipped the sign outside the bar to "OPEN" and officially welcomed customers.
But that gesture was really just for show. Anyone bold enough to come drink at the bar in broad daylight would receive Old John's enthusiastic mockery, such as:
"Only punks and useless trash come drinking in the daytime. Even maggots know they need to make money during the day, or go have some fun. You're such a loser that you come drink in daylight. I'm fucking ashamed for your father."
"The only people I'd sell daytime drinks to are those whose wives ran off with someone else, or whose wives slept with someone else. As long as you're that pitiful, I'll let you get drunk here. Otherwise, move your fat ass and go find yourself an honest job."
"What kind of idiot wants to get drunk in the daytime? Oh, it's you. You can only do jobs even a dog could do, so don't blame anyone when your job gets taken. I hope you've got enough money to keep drinking until they put you in a coffin. I don't let people run tabs."
In short, Old John had trained all the living people in town not to come to the bar during the day unless they had a reason.
So after getting the place in order, Henry comfortably turned on the classic movie channel and sat by the window where he could catch the sun, watching a film while basking in the sunlight.
So nice~
Before long, the bar's front door opened. Winter air poured into the room, and the sudden drop in temperature made him shiver.
Henry wondered which fearless bastard dared enter a bar in broad daylight, only to see a middle-aged dad type built like a bear, with a huge beer belly.
Henry recognized the man in a police uniform as the town sheriff.
Fine. There were some things Old John could say that Henry would need to be prepared to get shot for saying. Especially to a sheriff.
"Morning, Sheriff." Henry stepped behind the bar and asked, "What can I get you?"
"Just water, Henry." The sheriff wandered around, looking the place over, before coming to the bar.
"Right away, Sheriff." The bar served lemonade, usually free for customers to rinse their mouths with. Henry poured a glass and set it in front of the lawman.
"Henry, I heard you went out to sea. When did you get back?"
"I don't know how long I slept, but I docked on the sixteenth and came back that same day."
"Today's the eighteenth. You slept for more than a day."
"Luckily, it was only a little over a day. Didn't waste too much time." Henry poked fun at himself.
"Where's Old John? He should be up by now. Why haven't I seen him?"
"When I woke up at dawn, I woke him too. He kept me company and chatted with me for a while. He's catching up on sleep in the back now. Want me to wake him?"
"No." The sheriff got up and headed toward the rooms behind the bar. "You don't mind if I take a look, do you?"
Henry waved a hand in a gesture of invitation. In truth, even if he had not, the sheriff would still have cautiously pushed open the door and peered inside.
As luck would have it, Old John rolled over just then and let out a loud fart toward the doorway.
The sheriff promptly shut the door and cursed, "Fuck, that old bastard."
Henry gave a helpless shrug. The old man had farted; it was not like Henry could rush over and plug him up.
Back at the bar, the sheriff pointed at the Cadillac visible through the window and asked, "Is that your car?"
"I bought it from Tom. He let me drive it first while the paperwork's still being handled."
"Tom? Which Tom?"
"Tom from Old Tom Employment Agency and Consulting Company in the town south of here."
"Ah, him. I was wondering why that car looked so familiar." Whether he truly did not know or was playing dumb, the sheriff put on an act and said, "I remember you got on... hmm, whose boat?"
"Old George's boat, the Annie 21. Polack introduced me to him."
"Ah, right, Old George's boat. Crab fishing isn't easy, is it? I went to the Bering Sea once in winter when I was young. It left quite an impression on me."
Speaking of the trip, Henry complained, "Yeah, it never stopped rocking for a moment. Before going out to sea, I kept wondering why they didn't schedule more rest time so we could stay alert while working.
"Later, I found out it was impossible to get proper sleep on the boat. Everyone just wanted to finish up fast and get back to port. Calling it dangerous or hard work still feels like putting it too mildly."
"Right, right, that's exactly how I felt." The sheriff smiled, then asked, "I heard you want to go to Hollywood? You know, when I was young, I dreamed of seeing Hollywood's red couches for myself, with every actress at my beck and call."
Henry's eyes lit up. "Oh, did you make it?"
"Even doing odd jobs in that dump meant competing with people. Forget red couches—I could barely scrounge up a couch to sleep on myself. So I came back."
"Fair enough. I've decided that making a few more trips out during this crab season is a very wise choice. I don't expect to make it big in Hollywood anyway. I'll treat it like sightseeing."
"Ha, then you'd better work hard." The sheriff finished his water and got up to leave. "Time to patrol. If anything comes up in town, you know my number."
"Got it, Sheriff." Henry stood and saw him out.
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