Nuns at the Bar

Robert stood on the bar, placed his two fingers in his mouth and whistled aggressively. The young men and women turned toward him in anticipation and his jovial mood was like a contagion that swept through the bar. 

“Guys," Robert called, swaying slightly in his spot, “I just want to thank Mr. Shepard for his ridiculous generosity!" A few cheers went up but Robert waved them off, and took a swig of whiskey. 

“Chances are, if you're imbibing something right now, it was Mr. Shephard who paid for it, and for that we are all grateful! A big RAH-RAH for Mr. Shepard!" 

The entire bar erupted in cheers, and then a rhythmic chant went up:

 “Rah-Rah-Rah-Rah-Rah Hadley! 

Along the lakes she ever thrives! 

 In the summer when she calls your name, 

you'll be there, yes, by and by

Oohhhh: 

Hadley's for my father's father , Hadley's in my spleen

 Do or die I shall rely on the Hadley way supreme!"

And with that,  the place  crested another level of drunken mirth.

Robert got down from the bar, and high-fived Bryan Nelian, his best friend whom he had attended Camp Hadley with 13 years ago when they were 9.  He saw John, Ryan, and Craig Stephens, who were part of a huge Hadley family that had sent generations to the sleep away camp. He raised his glass, and they howled at him in typical white boy appreciation.  As Robert snaked his way to the back of the bar, he ran across Cindy McAllister. She had been a female staff member he had fucked in his last summer as a counselor, and she looked ripe for the kill tonight. 

She screamed a little when he grabbed her by the waist, and physically pushed him back when he gave her an opened mouth kiss.

"What the fuck is your problem," she demanded angrily as Robert moved to kiss her again.

"Raise your hand if you wanna be a fucking prude tonight! Let's do bible study with the nuns at the bar!"  Robert jeered, pointing at Cindy and drawing laughter from the crowd. He had no tolerance for girls who acted stupid.

He was almost at his destination, the restroom in the back of the bar, when Chip Lyons stopped him with an outstretched hand. 

"Robert,"  Chip said in his usual quiet tone. 

"CHIP! Wow, I can't believe you made it out this year! It's awesome to see you!"

Chip smiled, but his dark eyes were very cold.  He wore a dark cashmere sweater, and had his afro immaculately picked out.

"You say that every year, " Chip said, "How is it that you never notice the darkies?"    

An awkward moment passed between the two men. Then, Chip started laughing, and he clapped Robert on the back. "I'm just playin' man! Damn, you look like you seen a ghost!"

Robert began laughing too and politely moved to the lavatory. He was shaken, though, and as he peed his mind wandered.  Why did Chip insist on coming to the annual Hadley holiday party in New York City? He never seemed like he was having a good time, and always had something racial to say.

Chip had been in the same cabin as he and Bryan Nelian all those years ago when they were 9 years old. Then, Chip had been a popular figure at camp. He was gregarious, a solid singer, and a great basketball player. Furthermore, his  accent and "black sensibilities" had been hilarious to the Westchester and Fairfield county kids, and he was seen as something of a comedian.  

As time went on, however, Chip got a lot quieter. He was reticent to sing, and could never be caught playing basketball on the courts. He seemed to tell fewer jokes, and regarded life with a brooding seriousness.   While he seemed friendly with everybody, there was a noticeable gap between he and the rest of the boys they had grown up with.  

Robert shook his dick in the urinal, zipped up, and washed his hands. He realized that he clearly hadn't had enough to drink, as his thoughts were verging on sentimental. 

As he left the the bathroom and walked toward the bar, Chip approached him again, this time his arm outstretched with a beer. 

"Thanks man!" Robert said. The two men said "cheers," clinked glasses, and took long sips.

"That was a real nice speech," Chip remarked evenly.

Robert screwed up his eyes and looked at Chip searchingly. 

"Speech?"

Chip laughed, but there was no mirth in it.

"Yea, you know, singing Mr. Shephard's praises and all." 

"Oh! " Robert replied, "Yea, man, isn't he fucking awesome? I mean he totally didn't have buy us all drinks"

Chip shook his head and answered very slowly. 

"No, I suppose he didn't. It's his money so he can spend it the way he pleases."

Robert took another swig of his beer and saw that Cindy was beginning to flirt with another of the camp counselors. 

"And he certainly doesn't have to spend it on the whole Hadley community, now does he?" Chip continued, looking hard into Robert's face. 

Robert stared back, blankly.

"What's up Chip? Something wrong?"

At this, Chip laughed genuinely for the first time. Tears ran out of his eyes. 

"Cheers Robert," he said when he could finally speak again.  He clinked glasses with Robert, and walked to the bar. 

As Robert chugged the rest of his beer, he told himself that he wasn't sure what that cryptic exchange had been about. Deep down though, he knew.