“Bar’s pretty busy these days,” says Michael as he slides me a glass a little too emphatically. I catch it but some milk sloshes over the edge onto the bar. “It’s good that the bar’s got business. Business is good for milk and milk is good for people. Milk’s got power, ya know.”
I glance up at him from my glass with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.
“Heh. I see that look in your eye. No. Not that kind of power. You’ve been talking to Lewis, haven’t you?” Michael smirks and wipes up the spill as he continues. “Milk does the heart good. Goes well with just about anything. You ever had milk right after a warm donut? Look me in the eye and tell me that ain’t magic.”
I try to remember the last time I had a donut. What do donuts taste like? It’s a vague memory. Like something out of a sugar-induced dream. Michael’s voice yanks me back to reality.
“You know what, I’m getting ahead of myself,” the barkeep says as he throws his rag over his shoulder and leans on the counter. “You weren’t in here earlier, but you missed a pretty touching moment. There’s nothing like a cold glass o’ milk to bring friends together.”
I don’t think I could get out of hearing this story if I wanted to. Good thing I don’t want to. I finish my glass of hazelnut milk and hand it to Mike. He turns to start refilling it. He knows me too well.
“You remember Bernard, right? Small fellow. Real smart. Kinda scruffy.”
I nod. Of course I know Bernard. He’s always been a good bar mate. I think he’s a doctor.
“He’s a funny one,” says Michael as he slides me a replenished glass. It sloshes over again and he tosses the rag in my direction. “Not a fan of birthdays. But he also is. Something about not wanting to be older but liking celebrating. Doesn’t make sense to me, but I don’t judge.”
I shrug and toss the rag back to Michael.
“Well, Bernard came in earlier. It’s his birthday tomorrow so he was just taking some time for himself, you know,” Michael explains.
I smile slightly in response as I start to unwrap a straw for my fresh drink. Michael shoots me a glare. Right. Forgot he doesn’t like straws. Something about “tainting the milk flavor.” I put the straw down and take a swig straight from the glass.
Michael nods approvingly and continues, “Bernard ordered his usual. A strawberry milk with a little umbrella. Like the good barkeep I am, I made the drink and slid it to him along with a nondescript brown package. Bernard asked what the package was. I honestly didn’t know, but I sure wasn’t gonna say that!” Michael laughed jovially.
His belly laugh is something to behold. Brightens my day every time.
“It ain’t nothin’. Just a drink upgrade, I said to Bernard,” explained Michael. “Bernard wanted to know who it was from. That I DID know so I pointed down the bar to where Gregory and Melissa were sitting. They raised their glasses to Bernard. Ah. Friendship.” Michael said with a contented sigh.
The barkeep seemed to be lost in thought. I took a long sip of my drink and cleared my throat.
“Oh! Sorry, ‘bout that. Right! The brown package!” said Michael. “I was dying to see what was inside so I watched little Bernard open it. Under the wrapping was a brand new pair of jeans. Crisp, blue-gray denim with a small needlework of Bernard’s name. Right there on the left butt cheek.”
With a mouth full of milk, I nodded approvingly.
“Bernard liked it. Really liked it. I might have seen a happy tear slide down his cheek, but maybe I just imagined it. Either way, milk made it happen,” Michael said with pleased finality. He shouldered his rag and started walking toward the back. “Watch the place for a minute, will ya? Got somethin’ I need to do.”
I waved him off and happily finished my drink.