And I Felt Love Again

This is a short story I just finished writing. It is based around a dream I had about a week ago.

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The lights were turned down low over the bar in the smoke filled room. Joe and I leaned back, took long steady drags of our Newports and even longer sips of our rum and cokes.
Something was on Joe's mind; I could tell by the way he gazed blankly at the bottles on the shelf behind the bar. I also knew that something troubled him because that's the only time he ever goes to the tavern, and I'm always the one with him here during these times, which are few and far between.
More than half of the times I met him there he wouldn’t say more than ten words the full three or more hours we were there. His silence never did sit well with me, I usually wouldn't ever pester him about what was on his mind but today his silence was deafening.
Taking another drag of the cigarette, the smoke wafting out as I spoke, "So, you going to tell me what's on your mind or no?" I asked, glancing over at him out of the corner of my eye.
Breaking his staring contest with the alcohol bottles to look at me briefly and then turning his attention to the drink in his hand, he sighed loudly, and began to ramble. "I don't really know dude, I mean, I do....but I can't exactly say for sure. I just have...this feeling, and it’s stronger than anything I have ever felt before. It’s like you have a dream that you’re so certain is real because of its intensity and then you wake up and your more confused by the feeling your left with than the dream its self. You know?" he said, lighting another cigarette.
I was completely baffled by the length of his answer. "Yeah, I know the feeling, but what's it got to do with this?" I asked as I took another sip, peering over the rim of the glass.
"I can't say quite yet, I don't want it to be a 'too soon kind of situation' ya know?" He said, looking around at anything but me.
"Hmmm....yeah" I said and left it at that.
We sat there for several minutes, keeping the river of intoxication flowing into our veins. Joe sat there in his silence while I made small talk about sports with the bar tender. Eventually he got up from his bar stool and staggered over to the juke box. He fed five dollars in, picked a few songs, and lazily wandered back to the stool where we continued to sit in silence.
In the back of my mind and on the tip on my tongue were unspoken prayers to an unknown god for my friend Joe. I felt like a horrible hypocrite but I didn't really care because I was so severely frightened by his state of being that I felt something needed to be said someone out there on his behalf.
Just I as I finished pleading, a group of twenty-something year old college kids walked in and the faint sound of the music coming from the jukebox was consumed by the dull roar of chatter coming from the group. Today was the last day for finals at the local community college and they we all out to celebrate the end of the semester.
As the minuets flowed steadily into hours Joe and I watched the students’ party the night away, and several times we exchanged glances, chuckled at the thought of the armatures throwing their caution to the wind and the amount of regret that they would be feeling in the morning. After about three hours the group left for another bar and we were once again the only patrons in the bar.
The bartender, Anthony, and high school friend of ours began to wipe down tables and turn off the neon signs hanging in the windows that indicated the bar was still open. At this late hour neither Joe, Anthony, nor myself expected any one to walk into this out of the way bar that was being shut down for the night so we all whipped out heads around when we heard the door creaking open. Joe and I, being well past the point of intoxication, had to take a moment to focus our eyes to see who was walking in and if we knew them. Anthony on the other hand, sober as a bird, recognized her right away.
“Hello Elise, long time no see.” Anthony said as he smiled and went back to cleaning the tables off.
“Hey.” She said, half heartedly.
Elise, Joe’s girlfriend of four years and my younger sister, never came to the bar. Ever. With her arrival my suspicions that something was wrong were confirmed and my anxiety grew exponentially. As she walked over to us and she swam into better focus I could clearly see was distraught, eyes puffy and mascara running from crying. When Joe realized her emotional state as well, he stood up and reached out to hold her hand although in his face and eyes there wasn’t so much as a flinch or any change from how he had been all night long. When their eyes met, they held each other’s gaze for several long moments. No one said a word. Even the jukebox seemed to take the hint and quietly fade out.
Eventually her eyes broke away from his; she looked down at the floor and moved her foot around an invisible circle. His stare remained unchanged. A few seconds later she began to speak. Joe, I have something I need to tell...” but she was quickly interrupted by Joe.
“I already know.” He said softly, pulling her closer.
“What? How could you possibly…” again, she was interrupted.
“I just do. And its okay I’m not worried about it.”
“But how?”
Finally he blinked, a glossiness in his eyes was reflected by what lighting there was, and I could tell he was holding back tears. Sixteen years I have known Joe and never once have I ever seen or heard of him crying. Their eyes met once again and she began to weep, not out of sadness but of joy for the understanding that Joe seemed to have. Joe smiled at Elise, she smiled back. He pulled her in closer to him and wrapped his arms around her.
Then, leaning back and kissing her on the cheek he said “The Lord showed me dreams of my daughter, she was crying inside your stomach.” She smiled even bigger and cried even harder.