I met Roland on my twenty-first birthday when my best friend Heather took me out bar hopping.
We were ending the night at a biker bar called "On The Roxx" that was at the end of an otherwise abandoned strip mall.
The bar, like the rest of the buildings, had long lost its appeal to a respectable crowd. There were fights pretty much every night, and the police visited the establishment more often than patrons did.
We were sitting at a table close to the front door. Heather and I laughed every time one of us would rest our elbows or anything else on the table and made it nearly tip over.
The bar was directly behind where I was sitting at the black table. Everything was black. The tables, the chairs, and even the floor. With the lights dimmed, the abyss of celebrating my mortality stretched out before me.
I guess I can admit that I didn't enjoy being older. Or, at least, I was completely indifferent about it.
Twenty-one is an important milestone in anyone's life. To me, it didn't seem as special as it was supposed to be. I had already been married for four years and had two kids. Plus, I had been in bars before. This time just had the extra kick that I had identification to back up my whereabouts.
There were seven people in the bar that night and that was including myself, Heather, and the bartender. An older biker and his date sat at the bar with their backs to us and two younger gentlemen were playing pool at the far end of the room.
I saw one walking toward our table. I saw him coming before he had even thought about coming.
He had thinning blonde hair and a light blonde mustache. This one, like his friend, was wearing his coal mining overalls out on the town, like all the men around usually did.
"Hey" he said as he leaned an arm on the table and made the top tilt.
Heather and I immediately grabbed our drinks as he quickly realized his mistake and took his arm off.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Melinda" I answered.
"What is it?" he asked again, this time trying to focus into my eyes.
"Melinda" I laughed.
He was a little drunk, but so was I.
"She's married," Heather told him. "So am I"
Suddenly, there was his friend's hand on his shoulder and a loud voice filled the room.
"Hey, I see you met my buddy Todd," he smiled. "I'm Roland"
Roland was sort of boyishly handsome. Dark hair and a beard and mustache that maybe needed another year or two to look distinguished.
"Melinda," I introduced myself. "this is my best friend Heather"
Heather gave me a look like she couldn't believe I was entertaining them. At least I knew they would buy us a drink.
"Todd is a good guy," Roland said
Todd was already slouching a little more than he was before.
"Yep, good old Todd," Roland continued, "Gotta love the guy. Good strong worker, reliable. Just one thing though"
"What's that?" Heather interrupted.
"God damn guy doesn't believe the Holocaust actually happened," Roland answered.
"Can you believe that? Don't get him started on the government and the disinformation they give us"
I could see Heather's look of disbelief as she turned away from them and mouthed the word "wow" to me.
I was trying my best to keep a straight face, along with Roland. Todd was trying to turn away and leave, but I could see Roland's firm hand digging into his shoulder and keeping him in place. He was obviously trying to embarrass him. It was working.
"Wow, Todd," I said "the Holocaust? Really?"
His face turned bright red as he shook his head.
"I know," Roland continued, "It's all that booger sugar he does. Rotted his brain"
Now it was impossible to hide the grin on my face. It was hurting as it stretched my cheeks as I held my breath to hold back my laugh.
"You wanna dance?" Roland asked as he stretched his hand out toward me.
"There's no music," I finally let my laugh out.