Made Up Friends

Walking down a forest of tall growing pines made me calm and relaxed. The country road beneath my feet seemed to lead nowhere, but a small lake. And at that lake...

Hay hair.

Low pitched girly laughter.

The laughter...

Where are her eyes?

Where, for the love of god, are her sparkling, blue eyes?

Killeaney, or, Cill Oileán if you prefer, had 9000 people living in it. For an Irish town, it sure had a lot of pubs, with averagely three to five present at every major street.

In one of them, one of the quietest and smallest, that made everyone feel like the 60s never passed, I sat on top of a high chair. Only repetitive nudges from an alien hand brought me back to reality.

"Oi, quit it ya cheeky wanker." Said the bartender with a surprisingly strong Dublin accent, rare in those parts. "Or at least stop yer feckin snorin'. For the third bloody time!"

From all tables I heard laughter of old and middle aged men, that was quickly lost in the live music, provided by no one else than a fella simply named John, and his pop covers sung in Irish. That's right, I fell asleep on top of the counter in a backtown pub.

I decided to take a detour during my glorious, rainy walk home, and come in for a pint or two, to celebrate my birthday alone. I was eighteen after all, and what did I do not to deserve a few sips of alcohol. It was nothing compared to what we were gonna down at Kian's.

I was halfway through my second pint. I knew that was my limit if I wanted to return home in a straight line. All I really cared about was the taste of cold, barelled Guiness, and the bitter flavour of its foam. Even though not drunk, I felt somehow relaxed and indifferent, even after having another dream about her.

"What's the matter, boy." The bartender leaned in. He had colourful tattoos on his arms, and many piercings going through his ears, his brown eyes looked into mine with quirkiness. "Didn't get much sleep?"

"Too much, apperently." I responded, too quiet for him to hear, recalling my music class, and took a sip of the black coloured beverage.

"Hey, don'tcha worry. Life only gets worse later on." He smiled, and slapped my arm with an open palm, in a common gesture of sympathy. I looked him in the eyes again, at nothing else but emptiness I made myself see.

"Hey aren't ya too young for alcohol, kid?" He whispered, and winked at me. I smirked and took out my wallet from the inside pocket of my jacket and placed it beside my drink. The look on his face said that he would have let me drink at his place anyway, but he took the wallet and opened it, his eyes straight away locking themselves on my ID, visible through a transparent pocket. He smiled at me shortly, before shouting:

"Oi John! OI! Do you 'ave anythin' birthday themed?" I raised my head and turned it towards the locale, to see all heads pointed at me once more. If at that moment, someone started singling 'Happy Birthday', everyone would follow. Maybe it would have even made me feel better. But John only laughed.

"Haha, nah, don't think so. But I'll take yer request!"

Everyone cheered. I felt like the only one having trouble understanding John's thick, Kerry accent. I waited until the cheering stopped before responding to him.

"I'd gladly request something, if you could play something else than Ed Sheeran!" I shouted across the room, earning a lot of laughs and knee slaps, from the guests, as well as the old and bearded John.

"Anything within my repertoire. Go on!" Everyone looked at me with anticipation.

"Aight. Play "Whiskey in a Jar" again. I loved that one." I said. My last sentence was silenced by the applauding crowd of twenty people.

"As I was going over..."

John started, a basic chord progression followed his singy words.

"...the Cork and Kerry mountains..."

Everyone else drunkenly joined in, along with the bartender and the few bored housewives that found new loads of energy within themselves. They all had too much fun, considering it was only Thursday. Too much fun to notice the door open, and too much to see an unexpected guest sit at the bar table with me, his large, overweight posture causing the chair to creek.

"Hello mayor." I said, unaphased, and watched him get a pint of Guiness poured in by the bartender. "What brings you here?"

"I thought that for once people would understand." He spoke in a quiet, reserved tone. He had a stylish coat thrown over a white collared shirt, with an expensive, red neck tie.

I continued my drink, downing the entire quarter of the pint that was left. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. Especially not Padraig Ó Riagáin.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this, but..." He grabbed his head, lowering it, flashing his receding hairline and short grayish hair. "I love her." He turned his round face towards me. "It doesn't matter if she's a pony. I'd feel the same way if she was a field mouse. I just don't know why everyone finds it so hard to understand."

"Did you tell her how you feel?" I asked him, not believing I was actually going into a conversation with that guy.

He nodded simply.

"Did she return your feelings?"

A shake.

"Then how about you maybe NOT try to pass a law to change the way our society works? To maybe not become a laughing stock of town, and not make our town the laughing stock of Ireland?" He only opened his mouth in response. That same mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he sighed and took the first sip of his drink.

"Can I pay by card?" I asked the bartender.

"It's on the house. Happy birthday." I smiled at him, and hopped off my chair, turning towards the exit, only to be stopped by the mayor's voice.

"I'm not in control of my choices anymore. I don't know where to put my hands. I've been trying to lay my head down, but I can't seem to find a clear path without her at my side."

I opened the door to the outside world. His words stung me in the heart - I was going through very similar feelings. It all felt very real to hear.

"Oh and..." He said, as I was halfway out the door, making me look back at him. "Happy birthday to you. Citizen."