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minty-splitends · 10 days ago

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2: Rum Is Thinner Than Water

Possible content warnings: alcohol, drinking, implied violence, light cursing, empty threats, possible near death/severe injury

Word count: 2,375

The room had gone completely silent by the time my left foot had landed on the cracked tile floor inside. Even the music blaring out of the radio had been turned off. Thousands of eyes laid on me from the dozens of customers sitting at their tables, and my hand gulped.

I ignored their stares and instead fixed my body parts together tightly as I walked towards the bar in large strides, towards the waterfall tending it.

“We don't do desserts here,” it said, hunched over and not looking up from the glass it was cleaning. I stifled a sigh.

“Well, I, um… I was looking for a job, actually.”

Slowly, it craned its head to look at me, contemplating for a long while, before going back to cleaning the cup, “I guess we could use your leaves for the drinks. Sit down, we'll chat in a little bit.”

With that, the elevator music started back up and the room was filled with chatter once more. I tried to stop myself from shaking as I climbed up onto one of the stools. The fabric was freezing cold and slightly spiky.

I let my eyes wander around the space. It almost looked like an office, with pure white walls and uniform cubicles. Each cubicle had a round table with way too many chairs, the customers often pressed right up to each other.

“It's a lot cleaner on the inside,” I thought out loud.

“Of course it is,” said the waterfall with a light scoff, “this may be a hostelry, but I settle for nothing less than immaculate.”

I nodded, “I'm guessing you're the owner then?”

The waves moved in something close to a smirk, “yes, Mr Water-Works himself. Started this pub with a handful of coins at age 14, I did.”

I almost wanted to point out the lack of an apostrophe and dash on the glowing sign outside, but I bit back the comment. I would have preferred to get out of this without being turned into a smoothie.

“Wow, that's impressive. So, I-”

“Kid,” he sighed, “if we're going to talk business then at least take the hat off.”

“Huh? Oh!” I pulled off the beanie, scrunching it like a bag in my lap to hide what I had stuffed inside, “I’m sorry.”

He snorted, “no worries. Now, I'm assuming you're of age.”

I nodded.

“Okay. I don't really care, it's more of a legal thing.”

“Even though you started it when you were…,” I had to physically restrain myself from counting on my fingers, “7 years younger than I am now?”

Mr Water-Works sighed, “I know, it's absurd. Anyway, I wouldn't usually accept just anyone who waltzes in, but nearly all of my employees were… let go, recently.”

“Oh- I'm, um, sorry to hear that.”

“Don't be, they deserved it,” his voice grew gravelly. I stayed perfectly stiff, clenching my right hand to hide my ragged breathing. Despite being a creature made of water, his white eyes were aflame.

“So,” Mr Water-Works’ voice returned to only a slight roughness, and I let myself deflate a little, “it'd be from 4 to 11, pm obviously, with Sunday and Monday off. Usually there's more days off but as I said we're… severely understaffed,” the waves leaned towards me, “is that okay with you?”

I fiddled with the beanie and nodded, “yeah, I- that's perfect, actually.”

“Good,” he reached down to pull out a thin stack of paper, “now, all I need is your name and address.”

“Right… My name is Minty and I live in, um… the forest?”

He stared at me.

“Sorry, did I-”

“I need your last name too, you know.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. It's, um, my full name is Minty…” I fiddled with my hair for a moment and stared at the ends of the optic nerves. They were slightly frayed. Schizotrichia, my brain supplied from one of the articles I had read, also known as…

“Splitends,” I decided.

The owner stood up straight, and he reached his full height of… 7 feet? After recovering from that, I then realised that his body was also not fully made of water. His beard and hair were constantly flowing, yes, but the rest of him was more human than I would ever be.

Something in my missing stomach twisted a little.

He reached his hand out towards me. It was a medium brown, and huge, “well, Minty Splitends, welcome to Water-Works’-” his voice lowered and he leaned over to softly whisper in my ear, “-you can call me Seiche. Don't tell them that though,” he nodded towards the customers.

My arm immediately jerked up, but I hesitated for a second and whispered back, “you're not planning to actually put me in the drinks, right?”

Seiche chuckled and straightened his posture, “nah, I just wanted to see if you'd bolt.”

With that, I smiled and took his hand into an enthusiastic and strong shake, the feeling in my missing abdomen dissipating as quick as it arrived.

Mixology was the best thing ever, I had decided.

I had walked into Water-Works’ not even knowing how to make a Dry Martini, but Seiche had been patient and desperate enough for assistance to teach me each and every drink on the menu. Not even a couple of weeks later, he was showing me his extra secret recipes.

The pay at Water-Works’ was just enough to keep me going, and, whilst Seiche wasn't particularly good at conversation, he did listen as I chattered away about my studies.

There was a downside to it, though, and that was tasting what I had created. A good chef always tastes his food, and apparently that’s the same for a bartender and her drinks. But alcohol always made me feel like my limbs were going to split apart even further, like my brain was melting again.

I was allowed one drink per shift for my hard work, Seiche had mentioned it on my first day as I was mopping up a mess of goo and glass shards.

“-and two on Saturdays,” he had added with a wink, “to cope.”

Thankfully, he didn't seem too upset a few months afterwards when he asked why I hadn't had any of the free drinks, and I sheepishly told him I'd prefer something non-alcoholic.

“They're not standard here,” he had said as he looked up at me from where I sat on top of his desk in the breakroom. I couldn't help it, I wanted to be tall like him, “but I understand. Not many bartenders are drinkers, and the smell is…” we both shuddered.

That day, I had my first virgin mojito. While I knew that Seiche had been joking, out of curiosity I plucked a few leaves from one of my antennae and chucked them in. Whether it was my skills or the autocannibalism I'm not sure, but it was the best thing I ever tasted.

I already knew that the leaves would pop right back up again after I yanked them out.

It was only after working at Water-Works’ for half a year that I realised that I had absolutely no idea who Seiche was. Sure, we talked every day, but it was always either about me or the job or this tragically boring city we are trapped in.

It was another Friday, and I wasn't able to resist asking to hang out this time around. He perked up slightly at my passing comment, apparently already having something in mind.

“The Sinking Maze? Why there?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

“It's fun,” he shrugged, “and I want to see how you handle it. I've been there a couple times before, and each time I've lived and died in a different way.”

“How could you tell I've never been?”

His eyes sparkled a little.

Twisting twigs and tendrils twirling up into the void more than ready to take you with them was the definition of fun, and it's always been one of my favourite words, ever since the trees taught it to me. It perfectly described my childhood, after all. I couldn't help but staple it into my candied left temporal lobe.

On the same Friday evening, after work, we jumped down into the bay from the normal landscape of the field that brought me to this place, and the maze began when it caught us, dug out deep below the surface. It was so dark, surrounding us in all directions, with a slightly darker, blinding void outlining the walls.

The floors were iridescent pink-purple tiles, some smeared with a chunky blue paste.

“It's different again,” Seiche remarked, curiosity slightly lighting his voice to be shriller than its usual gruff monotony, “last time it was an endless farm of monkeys that collected their own spit to make car fuel.”

The Sinking Maze was certainly fun.

I had heard once, long ago, from someone who may as well be deeper in the ground than this, that the secret to escaping a maze was to start screaming profanities at the walls until they were so upset they had no choice but to show you the exit. Apparently, though, I had been lied to.

Or maybe my voice was too cute for the mazes to be offended.

Instead the walls became closer, closer, until I almost lost my third dimension. It only returned to me when the sweet tears left my hair and apologies rang from my flat right hand. Then, in a blink, I was tangible again.

Seiche intervened right before my mind had the chance to leave the delicate cold flesh of my brain and float up into the pink stars. Right when the walls were about to start their second attack, his hair and beard let loose their water and flooded the burning corridors in a blink.

“It'll be better to float than be tied to that unmopped floor,” he grimaced. I nodded stiffly at that as I tried to pretend that it was easy for me to keep myself together, to prevent my arms and legs from being swept away from the rest of me. I could never let that happen. What use would I be then?

The water was so much colder than me that it immediately made my still healing form numb from the inside out, and I had to force myself to keep my body parts in place. Seiche’s hand on my shoulder was warm, and I grasped it with a deep breath. It kept me there.

“Once we reach the end,” he squeezed my shoulder a little as the water rose more, “we can jump off the edge back to the top, then we can have tacos.”

“Does the maze change every time?” I tried to ignore his soft tone.

“No, I think it evolves when it feels like it. I managed to become quite well acquainted with those monkeys.”

I nodded and waited for the waters to carry us upwards until we were level with the tops of the maze walls, and I could see everything. It was just as endless as the monkey killing machine.

Though there was an end, at the same time. Far in the distance the pink floors gave way to an infinite void that the water was quickly filling up. I stuck my right hand up as far as I could and took in deep breaths.

The floor opened up and we fell back out of the maze, the adventure being over before it had even fully begun. Though my head was fuzzy and I combed my hair with my fingers until my vision unblurred, when I looked up at Seiche his eyes told me that it was the worst and best thing he had seen in awhile.

“So…” I ran my fingers through my optic nerves, my foot dragging across the floor, “about those tacos you mentioned…”

Seiche just patted my head before ushering me along.

Due to scheduling and our overall exhaustion, we ended up having our little treat during working hours. The food and mojitos were just enough to keep me smiling at the screaming maniacs in the booths.

I had been cleaning some shot glasses when someone plopped down on one of the bar stools, accompanied by a light, infrequent popping sound.

“Hi!” I called over my shoulder just as I was finishing up, “what can I-”

“Skip any chit-chat and give me the strongest shit you've got.”

My head immediately whipped around at the interruption, and the mushy brain inside of it quickly demanded the limbs to follow suit. Professionalism is important, after all.

The woman opposite of me was slouched over, hand propping up her bubbly head. Her white dress shirt was wrinkled and creased, and the light blue tie glared up at me.

“Yes, of course!” I sputtered and got to work, but I couldn't help myself from twisting my eyes to get another peek as I poured the vodka. With each passing second the bubbles floating up seemed to increase until she resembled a pot of water that was ready for a generous helping of pasta.

I was barely able to put down the glass before she snatched it up and tipped it upside down, dumping the contents onto her bubbles. I couldn't help but watch as the liquid got soaked up by the large blobs.

“Hey, Choppy, my eye’s down here.”

“Sorry!” I laughed a little, fixing my gaze on the eye of the tie, “so, how has your day been so far?”

“What do you think?” she grumbled, tossing over the glass that would have shattered against the wall if I hadn't already adapted to catching them.

“Well,” I leaned over to rest my elbows on the marble of the countertop, “I personally think you need a nice bath and a friend to talk to, but I know that's not for everyone so-”

“Yeah, the second one definitely isn't,” she turned away, staring at one of the pieces of wall decor I had made and tuning out anything I tried to bring up.

Groaning internally, I glanced at the clock and couldn't squash the relief at seeing the hands reach 10pm.

A big bowl of spaghetti was only a few hours away.

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