Ding.

“Here to check in. Last name is Williams.”

The Jefferson Davis Hotel was a familiar haunt to him, but the air hung a little different tonight. The moon sat full, like an all-seeing eye peering over the old hotel.

“Yessir. I see here you have a reservation for tomorrow. I’m afraid that we’re overbooked at the moment, but if you’d like to wait in the lounge, I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I’d sure appreciate that…” Hank glanced down at the clerk’s nametag. “Thank you much, Peter.”

He’d felt chewed up and spit out a thousand times but this time the hangover was nowhere to be found. He felt rested. He was ready to take on the world all over again and give just as much as he got. A drink was exactly what he needed.

The lounge was nearly empty and dark. A man in an old hat sat slumped over in a corner booth drowning in a sea of bottles and a woman in a short, silky dress sat at the far end of the bar. Finally, a little peace and quiet.

The bartender popped out of a door with piercing light pouring from behind him. “Be right with you, sir.”

“Don’t lie to the boy now, dear. The service here is atrocious,” she said sipping her cocktail. “And the gin rickey you concocted isn’t much better.”

Hank removed his hat and extended his hand. “Well, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure ma’am. Hank Williams. Known to play a little guitar around here.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Hank. My friends call me Zelda. I’m known to drink a lot of booze around here. I think I’ve heard a few of your songs.”

He pulled out a stool. “May I?”

“Of course, dear. It has been so dreadfully boring here tonight. I suppose that’s every night. This ain’t The Laicos.”

The bartender reemerged from the back and sat down a case of champagne. “Now sir, what will you have tonight?”

“Beer and two shots of the cheapest whiskey you got,” Hank said without hesitation.

“Now that’s a man who knows what he wants. What brings you to this dump so late?” Zelda finished her cocktail and motioned to the bartender for another.

“I’m not real sure to be honest. Was on the road getting ready to do a show. Last thing I remember was gettin’ food in Bristol and then I woke up here in Montgomery. First thing I did was come here. Not sure why.” He nervously stroked his cowboy hat.

“Well, settle in partner. It could be a long wait. Luckily, they got booze. You get this round and I’ll get the next?”

The bartender sat the beer and two shots in front of Hank. “Anything else?”

“Another for the lady, much obliged.”

Hank took the shot in his hand and noticed there was no trembling. He couldn’t remember the last time his hands didn’t shake and his mind was clear. Gulp. Gulp. Ahh.

He took a sip of the beer to chase the whiskey, soothing the heat. “What about you? Why you all dressed up with nowhere to go?”

The bartender sat another glass in front of Zelda. “I’m waiting for one of my oldest friends, Tallulah. She should be here before too long. A fashionably late entrance, no doubt. I should’ve known. Cheers to being left in limbo.”

They both drank.

“So, Hank. Do you have a wife?”

“Had two of ‘em. God knows they’re both saints to have put up with me.”

“Children?”

“Boy & a girl.”

“I have a little girl myself. I’d give anything to see my precious Scottie right now. She was kept from me for so long.”

The heaviness of the conversation made the room still. For the first time in a long time, seeing home was all Hank thought of. Not pills. Not drinking. Not fame. Only the faces he had ran away from over and over. It was all he wanted.

“You know, Hank, I’ve had a long time to think sitting here and one thing I wish I had done was spent more time with my Scottie. My marriage wasn’t worth a damn, but she was my miracle. Maybe that was the whole point of it all, who knows?”

Hank took a sip from his bottle and nodded. “I don’t even know mine. They’re young though. I’ve been on the road so much but I’m going to start making time. Try to be better about that starting tomorrow.”

Zelda snickered, “Tomorrow, ha! Oh dear, you’ve got a lot to learn. Don’t you know that time is the only thing they don’t make any more of. If you figure that one out let me know! I’ll bet ‘ol Jefferson himself piled up in the corner over there wouldn’t mind another crack at it all either. Poor guy’s been there waiting since before I came in.”

“Huh?” Hank looked over at the old man and couldn’t help but think of how much the old man resembled the statue of the failed leader unveiled on the lawn of the state capitol a few years back. “Miss, I don’t think I follow.”

Ding.

A voice from the entrance announced, “Mrs. Fitzgerald, your room is ready.”

Zelda turned her drink up, finishing the last few sips. “Time marches on, Hank. Some of us have to stay behind though to pay the price of admission. Bartender, I must be going but one more for my lonesome friend here. Hold the tears.”