The Council of Ares and Mars in the Delta Slough

The Council of Ares and Mars in the Delta Slough

The twangy steel guitar weaves perfectly within the blue acrid lofting through the stale air of the No Tell Lounge. “You’ll cry and cry, And try to sleep, But sleep won’t come, The whole night through, Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you….” It’s a roadside respite, a tin roof ruddy striped and curled at the eaves; a San Joaquin wayside on the 99 between Manteca and Modesto right out of a Steinbeck novel. The  regulars take their stations on the oak bar; the interlopers the small tables and dark booths around. There’s Al McCreedy, the second generation almond grower on the far right who takes offense if you don’t pronounce it “amund.” And Kyle Solvang to his left, a heavy equipment operator on the Delta-Mendota canal who wobbles side to side since a Japanese grenade shortened his left leg by about an inch. The No Tell only has one bartender, ol’ Harvey Miller, when his battered Ford is out front the bar’s open and you can get anything you want as long as it’s Coors, Bud or Jack Daniels.

        The dark-featured traveler is barely visible in the shadowed recesses of the corner booth. The neon light of the jukebox lights him in silhouette, shining off the deep patch of skin of his exaggerated receding hairline. He ordered a bottle an hour ago to save Harvey the many trips across the hardwood floor to keep his glass full. Lighting one Camel off the last then crushing them out in the overfilled ashtray, peering out the filthy window with a thousand-yard stare.

        The low rumble of the Harley-Davidsons made their way up the sunbaked asphalt of the frontage road. Harvey rushed to the front door screen cussing the coming noise and confusion sure to come. “God-dammed roughnecks!” he said as he counted the swarm of leather-clad bikers one by one. “What’s the matter Harv’ their money’s green ain’t it?” said Kyle with a chuckle. “Money’s got nothin’ to do with it, last time those bastards rode through here I had to close for a day just to fix everything they broke” Harvey muttered through gritted teeth. The leader entered first and adjusted his eyes to the dim light. He turned back to the rest who were awaiting his approval. “Come on in boys……the water’s fine!” The screen door squeaked over and over again as the gang filled the tavern to capacity. Johnny shouted over the bar to the reluctant host, “Eight pitchers of finest suds daddy-o and some dimes for the box.” He headed for the Wurlitzer and frantically pushed the button to flip the selection cards. “Geeze-Loise pops, don’t you hayseeds got anything with a groove in this thing? Can’t be-bop my boys to no square jive man, you dig.” What we got is what we got said Harvey as he carried three pitchers in each hand to the tables filled with denim, dust, and unbridled rebellion.

Johnny’s attention moved from the juke-box to the stranger in the booth beside. “What’s your deal man? You look like you lost your best friend or something” The dark-haired traveler turned his head from the window and took a large sip before speaking. “What’s it to you?” “Whoa, Whoa, daddy-yo, just making conversation that’s all. Don’t get your feathers in a ruff. Hey barkeep. Get this cat a drink on me, I kind of like this pole-cat; fearless…..stupid, but fearless takin’ to me that way.”

“What’s your name stranger?” Johnny said as he grabbed the drinks from the barkeep and placed one in front of the traveler.

“Sal, Sal Paradise.”

“You mind if I sit down? I wanna know what’s got your grape.”

“It’s a free country.” Sal said before taking the whisky in one deep gulp.

“Damn Sal, you know you got a way with the snake venom, you must have something you’re trying to forget.”

“Forget, maybe…..remember…probably…..what’s the difference?”

Johnny pointed to the ceiling in a twirling motion signaling Harvey for another round. “Well I don’t know man, I just don’t know. I get my kicks unwrapping cats like you, you know seeing what makes them tick, what gets ‘em up in the morning, what they think of when closing their eyes at night.”

“How much time ya got?”

“Well I got all do Sally-boy, I got all day for deep divers like you.”

“You do- do ya? Do have all day to look for trouble? Do you have all day to bark orders at subservient lackeys that polish your chrome, fight your battles and feed your ego with undeserved praise? Do you ever find what your'e lookin’ for on that dusty road?”

“Holy shit boys! We got a live one here. He knows me better than I know myself. He’s bottle-brave and knit real close-like. But I like him”

“You like me? How can you say that? You don’t know me from Adam, you don’t know shit.”

“Oh I don’t huh? I know your type, I see your satchel full of pinko-books and colored jazz. You wouldn’t see me wandering around on foot. You wouldn’t see me sittin’ by myself….no way no how.”

“Ya, well your'e more alone than me; more alone in a large crowd; more alone in a herd of miscreants, foul mouthed, foul soulless sheep, mindless and muddled in collective misery.”

“You hear that boys. We’re miscreets. I don’t know what that means but ol’ Sally-boy here thinks we’re miscreets. He might be right we miscreents here, miscreet there, hell I might be miscreentin’ right now.”

“How ‘bout I rearrange your teeth so you won’t be able to pronounce those big square five-dollar words no more.”

Sal rose from the booth and slung his satchel over his shoulder. The bar was silent as those in attendance expected a fight.

He walked past Johnny and grasped his shoulders through his leather jacket, pulled him into himself and planted a kiss on his cheek”

“Whoa, whoa you crazy tom-cat, you better head further West to the Castro if you wanna’ try that crazy jive. Your batshit, screw-loosed and wet brained man. I outa beat the snot out ya right here talking to me that way”

Sal smiled and headed outside. The wood frame of the screen slammed twice against the frame as the spring drew it closed. Sal wasn’t fearless. He was full of fear; the apathetic fear of not ever finding peace. Not the temporal fear one feels from a black eye or swollen cheek.

Johnny and Sal were both rebels. Johnny rebellious against anything daring to criticize him. Sal rebellious against himself.

And in that moment, Johnny turned to address his boys, attempting to save face. “Let him go fellows. You can’t make war against a man at war with himself. He’s got nothing to lose……….he’s got nothing to lose. Barkeep……..fill ‘em up!”