Birthday

Both hands of the clock on the back wall pointed up and just to the right. Unpainted fingernails waved in a gentle, restrained motion as the last patron exited the bar, ringing the cast iron bell above the door. Finally, Hannah could relax her smiling lips. She flipped her case of earbuds open and stretched.

Her phone read October 12th, 5 past midnight. A night just like any other, but she hoped that this night would’ve been even a bit different. Instead, she found herself wringing out the same gray towel as yesterday, and the day before. Pools of condensation dotted the bar top, like notes on a musical score, running along the lines of the polished wood. As much of a shame it was that she never learned to read sheet music, it was still satisfying to see the water patterns melt away under the towel.

Now that the bar was closed, Hannah no longer had to worry about the bell’s chime, signaling another customer to deal with. She preferred the controlled rhythm of cleaning she made with the after hours stage. The creaking ceiling fan that you won’t hear during business hours; the chairs that patrons half-assedly pushed in as they left; the dull blue diamonds on the wallpaper, turned invisible from the various out of place paintings of nature–a point in her nightly routine to look forward to, when all others were too loud.

While wiping a spill from the wood, she spotted something sitting on the corner of the counter. A small makeup mirror. The silver floral design on the back looked familiar. Granted, it wasn’t the first time a patron left something behind, of course. And, needless to say, it could’ve been something much more than a mirror.

She unlatched the lock and opened the mirror. A pair of dark blue eyes stared back at hers, a profile noted by straight blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail. Despite the mirror’s intended purpose, not even eyeliner could be found on her lashes.

It was just a familiar face within the thin silver boundary. A stray glimmer of light reflected through the glass.

She closed the mirror and slid it into her pocket.

The bell rang as the door swung open. A stout gentleman crowned with a checkered beret entered the bar.

“You’re late,” Hannah sighed, taking out one earbud.

“Do you know about the bar next to the movie theater?” Harry asked.

“Mhm. Never been, though.”

“I’ve been going there recently.”

“I know.”

Harry folded his coat in his arms and sat on a stool across from Hannah. “There’s a new bartender. A kid, maybe your age.” Hannah tossed the towel to the side. Harry continued, “He makes it look like he knows what he’s doing, but he was unsure on a lot of things. Tonight, he went overboard on the bitters in my Old Fashioned. He doesn’t use nearly enough bourbon, either. I think he’s new. He must be new.”

“Oh, no.”

“Am I getting too hung up about how people serve their drinks?”

Hannah adjusted her blonde bangs. “Maybe.”

“It’s just such an easy drink to mix,” he gestured with his hands in something vaguely resembling a mixing motion. “So iconic, too. You’d hope that it’d be the first one bartenders are taught. Honestly, you’re the only one who knows how to make a proper one in this town.”

“You did always drilled me on how you liked it when I first started.”

“You’re a Lee! Of course you gotta know how it’s done. We have a tradition to uphold.”

A couple of wine glasses clinked sharply as the bartender hung them along a rack under the counter.

Harry scratched his graying beard. “How was tonight? Anyone new come in?”

“The usual suspects. Pretty slow, otherwise.”

“No trouble?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Mom already went upstairs. Did you tell her you were going out tonight?”

“Did she need something?”

“Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Something about a check.”

“Damn it. I’m sorry.”

Hannah double checked her shakers and straws. “It’s fine, we handled it.”

“Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No, it’s fine. I just have some dishes left. You should probably check on Mom, if she’s still awake.”

“Right then.”

Just as he reached the end of the bar, Harry stopped, gazing upon the newly reorganized shelves against the wall with a proud grin. “Okay. G’night, Hannah.”

“Night, Dad.”

She waited for the sound of footsteps to reach the second floor before putting her earbud back in.

Upon reaching the end of the bar top, she remembered what was left behind. Something about the way light reflected through the mirror caught her attention. Did the glass have a slight tint? Or is it just that this is the first thing someone’s forgotten that actually looks taken care of? It easily could’ve been an old pocket knife, or a used vape, or worse. Much worse. Maybe it reminded her of when she would pass around her friends’ makeup mirrors in high school, like sharing photographs? Or maybe it reminded her of when her mother taught her how to use lipstick for the first time, only to decide never to wear it again? Maybe it was refreshing to see things from a new perspective, however small. Regardless of the reason, it was a nice surprise at the end of her night.

Hannah’s phone vibrated.

Did I leave a mirror at the bar? the text read. A friend–just an acquaintance, perhaps–who was at the bar about an hour before closing.

Yes. I have it. Hannah absentmindedly pressed send.

I won’t be able to come and get it for a few nights, so can I swing by and pick it up tonight?

Hannah read the text over again. “So you’re Olivia’s, then,” she said to herself, pulling the mirror from her pocket. Now, it made sense. The glass was clear, the lock was firm, the exterior was smooth. Olivia was someone who’d take care of her things, but she wasn’t usually one to forget things.

The mirror closed with a hollow click. Technically, no one should be allowed in after the doors close for the night, but it’s not like the rule’s been enforced so far. It was a pretty mirror, too. Of course you’d want it back. It’s the right thing to do. Bartenders aren’t supposed to keep their patrons’ things.

Sure. Hannah replied and slipped her phone back into her pocket.

The echo of laughter from the floor above. She resumed wiping the tables with a thin chuckle to no one.

A while later–not like she would bother keeping track, being busy with cleanup duty–Hannah heard four knocks at the door. A familiar face peered in through the glass, pale brown hair silhouetted by a distant streetlight. With one final guest to greet for the night–hopefully, at least–she walked to the door and reached into her pocket. The cool ridges of the round metal felt pleasant to her tired fingers.

Hannah opened the door slowly, to not ring the bell too loud, and showed the mirror. “This it?”

“Yes! Sorry for bothering you this late,” the girl graciously replied.

“No worries. It’s not the first time I’ve had someone leave something behind.”

“I bet.” The girl glanced behind Hannah.

“What is it?” Hannah asked, turning around.

“Sorry. I’ve never seen the bar with the ceiling lights turned off, is all.”

“Huh.”

“Are you cleaning? Do you need help?” Olivia leaned in, as though she was eager to join.

Hannah took a half step back. “No, no, that’s fine. I’m almost done.”

“Okay then. Well, good night, Hannah.”

“Thanks.” At least Olivia was one familiar face that was understanding. “Night. Take care.”

Now, really, no one should be ringing that bell.

Once again, she could drift into her personal melody. Swirling the towel around on the tabletops, sweeping the black wood tiles, tucking chairs in opposite each other—that familiar, cold flow matched to the slow beat that echoed in her earbuds. Moonlight peered through the glass patterns on the front door, embracing her in a pale gray glow. She watched as dust flickered into view, only to fade back into the shadow of the wooden door frame. One wayward speck captured her attention long enough to draw her gaze back to the bar counter, freshly cleaned but still a touch damp. She considered making a drink for herself, even just a small glass to wind down from the uneventful night. It wouldn’t be worth the effort. Another quiet, unassuming end to her night, like always.

Just like always.

Hannah closed the shutters, locking, unlocking, and locking each one in place. She turned off the lights behind the counter, hung her apron, and untied the blue band holding her ponytail.

“Hey, Hannah,” Harry said, standing at the top of the stairs.

She took out her earbuds. “What?”

“Happy 27th birthday.”

Hannah stopped on the stairwell. Her blue eyes widened.

“Sorry. I got a bit distracted and didn’t mention it. If there’s something you wanna do, let me know.”

Her lips curled into a smile and she laughed. “Dad, it’s already past midnight.”