Rescue

Melissa Etheridge tape adding a nice touch to the dark room and kidney-shaped bar. The bar was set a rational distance from the bandstand and separated from one eating area by a garden wall and from another by French doors like the ones at Justo Vega’s house. I sat on a high-backed rattan stool, about ten other patrons scattered on the same around the railing.
    At one end of the bar enclosure, there was a woman who looked Thai taking a Pilsner beer glass from an overhead rack and putting first ice cubes, then ice water into it. She used a swizzle stick to vigorously stir the contents like a cocktail, then poured out the ice and water before pouring a Coors into it. After she served the beer to another guy, she came over to me.
    “You like a menu?“
    “Just a drink, thanks.“
    “What kind?“
    “That depends.“
    A nice smile. “On what?“
    “On why you were doing the routine with the ice and water there.“
    “Routine?“
    “Yes. If you’re frosting the glass, why not just put it in the freezer for a while?“
    “Oh, I get you. I do that for two reason. One, the glass is too delicate for that. Two, I prepare glass like this, even if there is just a little soap from dishwasher, water wash it out so head of beer not ruin.“
    “Then a Coors, please.“
    “Right away.“
    She duplicated the routine, came back with my beer.
    I laid a twenty on the bar. “My name’s John, by the way.“
    “I am Dang. My husband and me, we own this place.“
    “Up in Boston , the Thai restaurants have a dish called pad Thai.“
    “We, too.“
    “But they spell it P-A-D.“
    “P-A-D mean the fried noodles. P-A-D-D mean the fan, like to make yourself cool?“
    “Good name for a restaurant down here.“
    Dang took the bill. “Especially in summer and now.“
    “When does the band start?“
    “About ten. They very good, you like the blues.“
    “I do.“
    She rang into the register, returning my change.
    Trying to keep the conversation going, I said, “Are you from Thailand , originally?“
    “Yes. Near Laos , northeast part of Thailand .“
    “You speak Laotian, then, too?“
    She addressed me but scanned the bar professionally, to see if anybody else needed anything. “I speak Laotian, Thai, study English in school, too, but hard to speak it.“
    “Why is that?“
    “I come to United States in 1974, I am thirteen, but my stepfather is Air Force, Homestead AFB.“
    For “Air Force Base.“ I said, “What first struck you about the States?“
    “Struck me? How... alien everything is. I cannot give direction to cabdriver, I cannot buy thing in store. I know only formal English, not idiom. I don’t understand what people say to me. They say, ‘Get out of here,’ I don’t know they I mean, ‘You’re kidding,’ I think they want me to leave them right now. Excuse me.“
    A woman across from me had raised her hand. As Dang served her a white wine, I got a nice smile from the woman.
    I smiled back but didn’t move over.
    Dang took care of another customer, then returned to me.
    “I think she maybe like you.“
    “Not in the market Actually I’m thinking of joining one of the churches around here.“
    “Doesn’t mean you cannot talk to a lady. You talking to me.“
    “But you’re married, and safe. This church—the Church of the Lord Vigilant—you know anything about it?“
    A steady look from the brown eyes. “They do not drink, so I do not see them.“
    “Heard anything about them?“
    “No. They mind their own business.“
    Dang moved away from me to the far end of the bar. drank only half the Coors, figuring to save my liver for what was looking to be a long season.

    Thinking now I might be aiming a little high, I stopped in a dive partially hidden by a grove of trees. There were as many motorcycles in the lot as pickup trucks, and only a handful of passenger cars, none of them looking touristy.
    Inside, a four-man rock-a-billy band in the corner was wail ing out a number about the virtues of killing cops. To the right was a pool table, a bunch of guys holding cues and dressed in black biker leather, sleeves cut off for the warmer weather. Most of the stools were taken, six couples dancing awkwardly to the music. There was enough cigarette smoke in the air to mask a battalion-size maneuver. All white, about half the men and a quarter of the women looked as though they’d done hard time.
    I waited for someone leaving the bar to push his money toward the keep. He was a pale man with a