LoakaChunk
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A Life Rewritten
🕑 Added 2019-05-31 23:30:02 +0000 UTCGarcia couldn’t figure it out. He basically had it made: graduated from a prestigious university with honors, his dream job working at a software developer in a beautiful city, and he had just moved into his brand new downtown apartment, mere steps away from the nightlife. Any other freshly-graduated 22-year-old would kill to have his luck.
But for some reason, he was unhappy. Worse than unhappy. He was downright sullen.
As Garcia began the arduous task of setting up his bed and unpacking the towers of boxes, he sighed. And then stopped. And then put on his shoes and walked out his apartment door.
It was a nice night out. The air was cool and brisk, but not so cold as to bite the skin of his bare arms. T-shirt and jeans weather, as Garcia thought of it. The perfect kind of weather to take a long, contemplative stroll around his new environment.
Garcia liked the city. It was nice being this close to people, to stores, to restaurants and bars. He’d only just started going to bars, but he enjoyed it. Usually. When it wasn’t a slammed dance club, at least. But a place buzzing with conversation and servers, with good food and good drinks, that was something he could get behind.
Maybe it was just because that’s where his brain was musing at the time, but Garcia’s eye picked up just such a place. It was called Elandro’s, spelled in cursive writing so as to appear either fanciful or downright feminine. It didn’t look like a gay bar, but Garcia wouldn’t have minded either way. He’d been to a few already, and while they often played terrible music, they usually had cheaper prices. Trying to encourage patrons, he thought.
He walked through the door before he could think otherwise. It was dark, but well furnished. Neat, with an extensive collection of bottles behind a bartender shining a glass. It was, all in all, almost stereotypical.
Strangely, it wasn’t all that busy for a Thursday night. Garcia went to the bar and ordered a drink: a Manhattan, neat. He thought it made him seem classy, but at his age, it mostly made him seem naive. The look on the bartender’s face leaned more to the latter opinion.
Garcia chuckled softly to himself. This was entirely a stereotype, he thought. Wandering alone into a bar to drink and be alone with his thoughts. How droll.
Four drinks later, and he didn’t think it was droll. He mostly thought he was drunk. Or would have, if he were still capable of introspection.
“Hey, kid, what’s your story?” A voice came from the other end of the bar. Garcia looked up and wondered how he could have possibly missed the man sitting right next to him. He was, to put it mildly, huge. Garcia wondered how he managed to perch his enormous bulk on a single stool. Then he realized he didn’t: each boulder-sized asscheek was precariously perched on its own.
He was dressed nicely enough--slacks, button-down shirt, even a nice fedora to match the big, bushy beard. It all seemed like window dressing that did nothing to dissuade Garcia from staring practically slack-jawed at the enormity of the human before him
“Eyes up here kid,” the man said in a deep, burly voice.
“Oh, uh--sorry. What did you say?”
The man chuckled. He seemed honestly amused and not at all put off by Garcia’s earlier gaffe.
“You new in town, kid?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah I am,” Garcia managed.
The man nodded, and Garcia couldn’t but help count the chins the slight tilt of the man’s head produced. “You seem new. More than that--you look a little lost. Am I right?”
Garcia blinked. “Well, uh, I guess?”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s got you down, son.”
Garcia sat for a moment. Was this also not part of the bar stereotype? Two strangers getting together to talk about their troubles? It seemed like. But Garcia still couldn’t quite put his finger on what was troubling him.
“I wish I knew, mister. I’m just… sort of feel like I’m going through the motions, y’know?”
Another nod, another set of chins appeared beneath the beard. “I certainly do, kid. It happens to a lot of us, especially those that have lost their way.”
“You think I’m lost?”
“I do, in fact,” the man said before taking another swig of a strangely large stein. Garcia hadn’t even noticed that enormous drink either on account of the elephantine belly blocking his view. “And I think you’ve been lost for some time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this isn’t quite what you wanted for yourself, is it? The man you wanted to become?” Garcia became a little put off by the intensity of the big man’s stare.
“Um, I dunno, I guess?”
“No, son,” he said. “You might recall a time when you’d had plans. Big plans. To be a bigger man than you are.”
The man held out his hand and placed it on Garcia’s shoulder, and in an instant memories came flooding back. Memories of Garcia as a child placing pillows under his shirt, of begging his mom for snacks and sweets, or asking for seconds but always being denied. And then denying himself those second meals, those sugary drinks, those extra pizza slices even after achieving his freedom in school. Not because he wanted to, but because it was expected. Because that was just what he’d always done: been denied.
Garcia had tears in his eyes as the man pulled his meaty paw away.
“I can help, y’know,” he said. “Would you like a bit of help?”
Garcia nodded. And then the whole world changed.
