It was dark and overly warm inside, giving it a cozy feel. Christmas lights were strung along its walls and ceiling. Above the liquor shelves stockings were taped to the mirror with the names of the employees glued in silver glitter. “Cecilia” played from the jukebox. A couple had just left and we snagged their seats at the L-shaped bar. The place was full, a mix of people ranging in age from twenty-one to sixty-one, though Gene was far from being the only baby boomer. The two bartenders danced to the music while they mixed and poured.

“Mean Gene! Where have you been?” the man behind the bar asked. He was fortyish with a cleanly shaven head that reflected the light around him.

“Goddamn, that’s the third time I’ve been asked that today. You guys need to quit hanging from my nuts,” Gene said with a smile, then shook the man’s hand. “Sam, this is my new tenant, Stratton. Sam here is an asshole.”

Sam shook my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” He dropped a few ice cubes into a glass, filled it with Maker’s Mark, handed it to Gene. He looked at me. “Whatcha havin’?”

“Grand Marnier, neat,” I said. Sam poured it and Gene and I toasted. “Good bar.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad. Been coming here for years. Sam owns it. He closes it at eight on Christmas Eve and all the people inside drink for free till ten,” he said, and gave me a wink to go with it. “I’ll be here.”

“Count me in.”

I was in a good mood, feeling truly happy for the first time since arriving in Chicago. It was Friday night and I was in a bar with a friend who came in the form of a sixty-one-year-old Vietnam vet. I had received my first full paycheck the week before and all my bills were paid. I comfortably had enough to last until I’d be paid again the following Friday. Relief washed over me. Or maybe it was contentment. Whatever one chooses to call it, I took it in, let it run through me. I inhaled deeply, fingers tingling, feeling light and airy.

“You’re aware that that’s when you know you’ve lost, right?”

“What?” I asked.

“When you stare into the mirror like that, that’s when you know you’ve lost. Especially with that god-awful grin you’re wearing.”

I turned to him, placed my hand on his shoulder, and gave it a good squeeze. “Gene, my man, I conceded defeat years ago.”

“Ha!” he said, lifting his drink and toasting the air. “Ditto to that.”