Pub House (Story)

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The Pub House

‘Where’s the bathroom ?’ I asked her.

‘Umm I don’t think there really is one, do you wanna go next door ?’

‘Next door where ?’

‘There’s an old abandoned house.’

‘Okay c’mon.’

In case you were ever wondering, because I have heard people wonder aloud to me quite frequently; there is a reason why girls go to the bathroom in pairs or groups of three or four: They want to take a break from the ongoing activity and retreat to a quite place, a sanctuary, where they can discuss various events that have taken place that evening, are taking place at that moment, or have a chance of taking place in the near future and whether or not they should. They want to check up on themselves in the mirror, ask the opinion of other females about their lipstick color, or what they think of their date. It is a place of reliving their physical as well as their moral needs. A place where they can peacefully try to convince their reflection, that she is not drunk.

We were at a place called ‘Pub House’ it was an actual two-story house, with a backyard and everything. The ‘Pub House’ belonged to someone’s grandfather, but since he was abroad, his grandchild, an acquaintance of mine, had the keys. It was open to his friends and anyone else he knew. There wasn’t a lot of furniture, and no one lived there permanently but it still had the aura of a home. The basement level was very creepy though, a wooden staircase led down to a low ceilinged dark room, which didn’t have any floorboards. The windows had a thick layer of dirt on them, making them opaque. It looked like how I’d imagine the inside of a witch’s shack. The room had a fireplace however and a wooden table. The first time exploring the house, a couple of guys had found a photograph of a man on top of the fireplace; that would be the beginning of the of the end.

We went outside into the crowded backyard. There were people drinking, laughing, making out, vomiting, rinsing their mouths with the water hose, and a bunch of guys crowded around this biker, who looked like he was in his thirties. The actual reason for hosting this party was that they were making some kind of business deal with him. Later that evening he would offer me tobacco, I would accept and extend my hand, he would pour some onto it and I would snuff, causing an explosion of twenty-something consecutive sneezes. My boyfriend at the time would ‘bless’ me after each one, laughing.

Eva was making her way to the fence and I was following her, we greeted people as we walked by. This girl, Dana, whom everyone despised for different, mysterious reasons that they didn’t share, was embracing the ground on her hands and knees, liquids gushing from her mouth, dripping down her hair before they reached the grass. We’d go over and try to help afterwards, seeing that people were already with her at the moment. Eva looked around for someone with a lighter after gently placing a cigarette between her pink lips. An extended hand holding out a flame instantly came her way. The fire twinkled off her eyes as she smiled. A couple of guys struck up a conversation with her, she laughed wholeheartedly at something they said, leaning her tiny body forwards, laughing with her mouth open, her perfect white teeth on display. It’s difficult to describe her completely: She was the type of person who loved being the leader in a ‘friendship’ she acted polite and charming, while at the same time stressing how much more mature she was than you. Saying phrases like: ‘Oh yes it’s horrible, I went through that years ago, do you know what you should do ?’ or adopting a parental tone: ‘You look so pretty, don’t ever put make-up on, you have a natural beauty to you. I started wearing makeup when I was twelve and it ruined my skin.’ she was the type of person who enjoyed dragging people into her drama, making them see that she’d been through a lot, telling them about herself and acting mysterious at the same time.

We finally made our way to the street and went into the yard next door. It was swallowed up by darkness, which came from the house and spread out into the yard. The ongoing party at the Pub House was still audible. We went into the basement; I don’t remember exactly how though. I think we climbed through a window. It was filthy; it smelled like urine and garbage. There were needles on the ground, mud, decaying leaves and other disgusting items and substances. It was not a real bathroom, and it was not pleasant, so after satisfying our physical needs, we took the conversation outside.

We could feel the chilly evening on our skin as we stood by the edge of the fence. Eva started to fix her hair, tucking in tiny strands with her small fingers. She was one of the most beautiful people I had ever met. Something was illuminating her green, cat eyes, either the moon, or a streetlight. Her eyeliner framed them perfectly. She had this wavy, long, hay-colored hair and perfect white skin. A tiny gem in her tiny nose and an ankh dangling from her neck. She was telling me how she was almost raped a couple of years ago at a summer camp: ‘I was going to the bathroom at night when someone grabbed me and started dragging me. I dug my nails into the ground and started clutching at it. I was screaming but no one could hear.’ I remember how her voice betrayed no hint of emotion, if there was any to betray at all. Eva told the story calmly and casually. She truly was beautiful, tiny hands and a tiny figure- a miniature woman.

A month or so after this day, the house’s owner’s grandchild and his old friends would be down in the cellar, eating beans and potato’s in candlelight. Not having any money to pay for electricity. The candles would be on the mantle around the old photograph. They’d start joking around as if they were hosting a séance. Then they’d go outside, light a bonfire and start dancing around it, the liquor seeping into their minds. ‘I’m Jesus, I’m Jesus!!!!!!’ Nate would start screaming. And in a couple of days, they would loose all power over the Pub House, because of complaining, religious neighbors.

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