This is the story of Jack Burroughs. It might be Borrows, I don't know. I've never seen his name in writing. Come to think of it, there's no guarantee that it is his real name either.
Everything I tell you is what I've seen, heard and been told. Other than what I've personally watched, there is no guarantee any of it is true. However, there was no reason for anyone to lie. Nobody gained anything from it.
I met Jack about 7 years ago. One day, he just walked into our little expat bar, in the middle of nowhere of the Philippines. He was young by comparison. Mid to late 40s then, but he stood out because he was the nicest and happiest guy in the place.
Jack was a drinker. He went at it like there was a prize to be won. If anything, he got even happier when he drank. Always courteous and generous to the bar tender and waitresses. Eventually the corner stool became his reserved seat.
He would hold court from his corner. Entertaining everyone with witty stories, humorous jokes and bar tricks. Anyone having problems found a sympathetic ear and a willing hand. I lost count of how many people he helped out of a jam. One call, and Jack rode in like superman.
Everyone loved Jack. Of course, everyone in the bar knew one of the waitresses fancied him. Apparently everyone but Jack. No matter how hard Eden tried, she just couldn't catch his eye. It's not like he wasn't nice to her, he just never showed any romantic attraction whatsoever. When he was drunk, he would call her "Jasmine" sometimes and look at her like she had hung the moon. He would deny it the next day when he was sober, but he never took any action whatsoever.
I would describe Jack as a somewhat gentle giant / big ol teddy bear type. Not the biggest guy, but 6 feet and 2 inches of work hardened muscle. However despite his size, I only saw him get mad once. An enormous Aussie refused to let go of Jack's favorite 90 pound waitress. I literally watched Jack's ears perk up like a lion when it had spotted it's prey as she was trying to get him to let go of her. Then, after she screamed at the Aussie that he was hurting her, Jack turned into a beast.
The Aussie easily had 4 inches and at least 80 pounds on Jack, but he never even saw him coming. It was the fastest and most brutal beating I'd ever witnessed in person. So much so that the Aussie had to ask who had whooped him when he regained consciousness.
That's just how Jack was. You could say and do anything to him, and he just shrugged it off. But if you laid a finger on one of his friends, you met the beast.
It wasn't all give for Jack. I never stayed until closing time, but I understand the waitresses took turns walking Jack's drunk ass back to his closet sized apartment every night after he passed out. Everyone watched out for each other. The waitresses called him "kuya" which means older brother.
This brings me to the events of this past week. On Saturday, I walked to our favorite little beach side bar and asked our devoted bartender where Jack was. It wasn't like him to miss a night. She pointed to the beach.
I found Jack sitting at the edge of the water, drinking and watching the sunset. He seemed down, so I asked him what was wrong.
"I'm tired Billy." He replied. He never called me Bill. Just Billy.
"I'm tired of pretending it never happened. Pretending everything is ok. Pretending I'm not hurting." He slowly rolled out in his southern accent.
"But you're always happy." I argued with him. "You're the nicest guy at the bar."
