A nobody walking the night

I walked into the ice-cream parlour.  It was empty, except for the waiter behind the bar and a woolly-haired man staring into a coffee cup at the back of the place.

It was three a.m. and the party was still going-on down on Bourbon Street.  The bars and clubs were pulsing and the road was packed with people passing up and down, carrying drinks. 

None of them bothered to come up the alley.

The waiter was watching the TV up in the corner.  It was showing re-runs of old baseball games.

I ordered a coffee.  Strong and black.

The waiter didn’t speak.  He made the coffee and set it on the counter.  I laid the change down and walked to the table in back.

“Mind if I join you?”  I asked.

The man looked up, bleary eyed, and glanced around all the empty tables.  Then he looked back at me. 

“Do I know you?”

“I doubt it.” I answered.  “I’m just a nobody.  A nobody walking the night.”

“So you’re a nobody.” he said, resting his gaze.   “Well I’m a nobody, too.”

He pushed a chair back with his foot and gestured for me to sit.

“We’re just two of many.” I said, sitting down.  “Ain’t no claim to fame.”

He spun the coffee cup around in his hands.  “I was somebody once.  I was the big deal.  Or I thought I was.”

He looked up and asked me if I knew him.

I told him I thought I did. 

I didn’t see any reaction.

“What are you doing in town?” I asked.

“Oh, we’re just trying to cut a record.  Not far from here – a few blocks, that’s all.” He narrowed his eyes.  “I needed some air.”

“Working late?”

“We always work late.  We go on through the night until the ideas stop.”

“Have the ideas stopped?”

He looked at me.  “They stopped a long time ago.”

“How about you?” he asked.  “Where do you fit, Mr. Nobody?”

“Oh, I don’t fit.” I smiled back.  “That’s my trouble, I guess.”

“Are you in town alone?”

I told him I’d come with my girlfriend, but we’d lost each other in a bar hours ago.

He chuckled and spun the dregs of his coffee around.

“She’s probably out on Bourbon Street somewhere.  If you wait long enough, she’ll come by.  If not, someone else will.”

We laughed.

“Ain’t you worried?” he asked.

“No.  Just tired.”

“Me, too.”

He stared up at the TV.

“I remember this game.  1974. Hank Aaron hit his big home run.  Do you follow it?”

I shook my head.  “It’s not so big in England.”

“No.  Well, I guess I ought to be getting back.”  His chair scraped on the tiled floor.

He wasn’t as tall as I’d thought. 

“Are you going to finish your record?”

“Maybe.  The boys’ll be wondering where I am anyway.  Perhaps they’ve finished it without me.”

We laughed.

He checked his pockets for something.  

“Well, I hope you find your girlfriend.” he smiled.   “Just a nobody walking the night.  I like that.  Maybe I can use it.”

He held out his hand.  “So long.”

We shook.

I hesitated a moment, then called after him “I like your music, by the way.”

He looked back. 

“Really?  Thanks, man.  Go look for your girlfriend.”