Ben and Jerry’s Dolly
Prompt by The Lily Ink Index:
“Pick a job that may be more personal that it seems (i.e. jobs that require you to hear people’s stories like bartenders, cab drivers, Hallmark Card authors, antique collectors, therapists, etc) and write about the a day-in-the-life of that person and their profession. What do they hear and how do they deal with it?”
I had seen bar fights before, but nothing like this. This was different and more intense and, strangely, civilized. The two men sat talking about a woman. The woman was in the bar, somewhere across the way, sounding blonde and desirable. The two men were afraid of the same thing, which is probably why they acted sober enough about it after their fifth shot. The woman had some disease and was nearing the end of her life, completely aware of it just as both of them were. The two men, Ben and Jerry (for anonymity’s sake), looked after her with a gaze that could never be drowned, even by heavy liquor. They spoke quietly in the sense that their fight was private. They fought over who would stay and who would go. Truth is, they were fighting within themselves and it was a matter of what battles were won in the midst of that—the fight wasn’t really between Ben and Jerry. In a way the fight was between the woman who barely looked in their direction, because she didn’t care so she was the easiest target, the weakest. Of course, this is what drew them towards her but was also, inevitably, what would take them away.