Rowena, a crotchety old woman with willowy white hair and a band-aid across her forehead glared at the gentleman staring at her behind the bar. He had been standing there for at least five long minutes now, just staring. Rowena knew that he was looking at her forehead. Well, that was her intention in the first place when she placed the bright red and blue Spiderman band-aid neatly over the gash in her head. This way she wouldn’t have to look anyone in the eye. People would just avert their attention to her forehead. If anyone asked what happened, her plan was to just tell them Algernon scratched her-but then again, no. Alg was a very sweet overweight longhaired cat that lived and patrolled the grand ski lodge atop of Mt. Hood, Oregon. No one would ask anyway. No one ever really talked to Rowena. The staff would talk about her behind her back for sure. They’d say she was crazy. Some even suspected that she was involved in the gruesome murder that took place here at Timberline Lodge back in 1952. Either way, she wouldn’t tell anyone what really put the gash in her forehead. Luckily it wasn’t bleeding much but Rowena was certain it would leave a scar.

Minott, a 57-year-old middle management white-collar worker here on vacation with his wife, Joan, was staring at the specials board behind the bar. He couldn’t decide what he wanted. Joan always made all the decisions. They had been high school sweethearts unhappily married for 37 long years. Joan wasn’t very bright. She was false and cloying, always pushing Minott to make more money to feed her consumerist impulses.
Minott just kept on staring, dreaming of escaping to Hawaii to live in a tree house with the cockroaches and pineapples.
“What’ll ya have?” Rowena asked in a cheerless raspy voice. She was not amused by Minott’s lack of engagement with the routine act of ordering a drink. She certainly wasn’t going to ask what he was staring at. She knew it was the band-aid of course. Her little trick worked. Just don’t look him in the eye, she said to herself. Don’t let him in Rowena.

Minott was stiff. He was standing there still wearing most of his ski gear. Sweat was dripping down his face and his hands were at his side, paralyzed by thick gloves.
“So are you just going to stand there or are you going to have a drink, mister?”
This time Rowena’s voice was louder and irritated.
Minott did not hear her. He was still thinking of his fleeting dreams while at this very moment his wife was probably charging up the credit card with useless souvenirs
and the $30 earmuffs she just had to have.

“Well”, continued Rowena back in her usual monotonous tone, “if you can’t decide, then I’ll decide for you. A scotch on the rocks it’ll be.”

Plain and boring but with a sudden sweetness then soon watered down. Just like you mister, she thought.
Rowena could read anyone like a book. It was all in the eyes.
Suddenly she remembered to avert eye contact so she quickly looked down, pretending to concentrate on making the drink. Ha! Not like she couldn’t run this bar with her eyes closed she thought. Hmm, now there’s an idea. Yeah, she could feign blindness and then nobody could look her in the eye. No one would notice the small but piercing and ultimately deadly light in her eye. All that have seen it have died at one time or another. Always right here on the mountain. The bodies lost forever in the snow capped glacier. Some of them eaten by that monster. Rowena was almost a victim once but she got away and boy did that piss him off. She would find him lurking out there at night when she brought out the garbage, just waiting for the opportune moment to tear her to pieces.
Well, he can’t get her now. “But you can still kill, Rowena” a distant voice whispered in her head.
She had managed to annihilate the gigantic grizzly bear that had haunted this cold mountain for 53 years. Shot him right between the eyes with her Remington 12 gauge shot gun. Yep, got him right between those deadly eyes. The ones she looked deep into all those years ago when the young couple was slashed to death half way down the mountainside. The blood so bright and immense it could be seen from the lookout tower.
Minott finally sat down with scotch in hand and looked down over the balcony at the large fireplace situated right in the middle of the hotel’s lobby. A large black cat was curled up and cozy on an old buffalo rug. Minott thought he almost heard the cat purr from up here on the second level, or was that a growl he wondered. Surely a cat, despite its large size, couldn’t make a sound that loud. It seemed the old bag behind the bar heard it too because she suddenly dropped the full pints she was serving and ran to the railing.
Algernon was still sleeping peacefully on the shaggy brown and musty old rug but there certainly was a strange sound coming from somewhere. It didn’t seem like anyone besides Rowena and Minott really noticed the grumbling.
“Oh dear” Rowena said out loud to herself.
Minott overheard and asked, “Something wrong with that cat lady?”
“It’s not the cat you dumb ass”, Rowena unintentionally replied.
“It’s the grizzly. He’s waking up. He’s angry with me.”
Rowena had panicked the day the hotel manager threatened to throw his hide in the fire. Brought back too many bad memories he had said. So she hid big bear under that old buffalo rug.
As Rowena stood wide-eyed and gazing into the fire she continued to talk out loud at no one in particular. Minott was listening intently.
“When I tried to move old griz he whacked me across the head. That’s why I have this ridiculous band-aid. Look at the scar.”
Rowena tore the Spiderman band-aid from her forehead and pointed to the faint line that looked a lot like a mere cat scratch.
“I have to move him.” Rowena said with urgency. She was looking directly at Minott. “Will you help me?” she asked.
Minott, seeming a little perplexed was instantly caught by Rowena’s intense gaze and stood up swiftly.
Rowena was already halfway down the staircase as Minott mechanically moved from behind his table. Then suddenly a large hand gripped Minott’s shoulder and the weight of it, like a ton of bricks, forced him to sit back down.
“She’s crazy man,” the husky young bartender said while he nonchalantly dried out a glass with a filthy looking bar rag.
Minot looked up at him, stunned.
“Let me tell you.” the bartender, Jack, started.
But Minott felt a strange sensation in his gut and sternly got up again.
“Hey, where you going?” Jack innocently asked as Minott composed himself.
Minott took the lat swig of his scotch and set the glass down carefully.
“I don’t want to die without fulfilling my dreams,” he said as if rehearsed. “I’m getting old. Hawaii here I come.”
And with that Minott strode off oblivious to the drama unfolding on the first floor as Rowena frantically struggled with the bear rug.
Jack shook his head and turned around to see a short, pushy woman with shopping bags in hand looking up at him.
“What is going on here?” she demanded. “That’s my husband you were talking to. What did you say to him? He just up and left me here like he didn’t even see me standing in front of him. Furthermore what is all the commotion downstairs? If that woman is getting rid of that bear rug, I’d really like to have it. Oh it would look great in the den.” Minott’s wife continued babbling as Jack continued with his tedious work. Jack just shook his head and said, “Old people are crazy. Never look one in the eye or you’ll get crazy too.” That’s one lesson Rowena had taught him. He was starting to believe it to be true.