Rick’s

Written for Like the Prose 2021

“Do you know what depression is, kid?”

Rick sat back on his haunches, picked up his whiskey glass and shot its contents down his throat. A look somehow of both pain and the relief of pain flashed across his eyes as he picked up the whiskey bottle and refilled his glass. He turned back to the boy who was standing near his table and staring into space.

“Hey kid!”

The boy turned to face Rick and realised he was being talked to. “Pardon me?”

“I said, do you know what depression is?”

The boy glanced left and right and sat opposite Rick. Anyone walking into the saloon of this fine Sunday evening might be wondering why a shy, respectable looking young boy might be sharing a booth with the uncouth drunk with the beard so thick and ungainly that it could be mistaken for a small bird’s nest.

“Sorry sir, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sir? Ptah!” spat Rick, “don’t give me none o’ that ‘sir’ bullcrap. Just call me Rick.”

“Sorry. Rick.” corrected the boy, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rick prepared his words. “Well then Imma tell you. Now, when I saw a bright young thing like yo’self walking into my bar just a few moments ago, I thought to myself, ‘now that looks like an upstanding young man’, he’s got his whole life ahead o’ him. What’s a clean upstanding young man like that doing in this dinky saloon? Ain’t no good decision that’ll lead you down here, that’s for sure. I figure a man like you must be here meeting people, but I done watched you and you was just standing there; didn’t look like you was waiting for somebody. So then I thought, maybe this kid’s life ain’t as good as he looks; maybe he figures he’s depressed and has come down here to drink his sorrows, so I thought I’d ask you if you knew what depression was.

The boy stared at Rick silently, unmoving, but not avoiding eye contact. He gave a light nod.

“I see,” said Rick, “so your life’s gone wrong recently or gone always wrong, sounds like it hasn’t led you to drink yet? Why start now?”

The boy seemed to look a bit embarrassed for a moment and Rick figured it out.

“You just turned old enough to drink, didn’t you?” said Rick, the boy gave another nod. “Well kid, I don’t know what to tell you but you ain’t depressed.”

The boy looked confused and angry.

“Well alright, maybe you are a little. I don’t know much about you”. This was the closest Rick came to admitting defeat. “But I tell you, there’s a difference between feeling sad and being depressed. When I wake up in the morning, I can’t hardly tell what day it is, I struggle to get up in the morning, in fact the only thing that keeps me going is the thought of a first drink. That’ll be the case with most people in here. But that ain’t depression, kid. As I said, this here is basically the bad choices bar. Depression ain’t waking up and knowing that what you want is a drink. Depression is waking up and despite knowing what you want to do and how to do it, not doing anything about it. Do you see what I’m saying here kid?”

The kid stood up again and thanked Rick for the perspective before leaving forever.