“It’s not a lifetime.”
“It’s a long fucking time,” Easton says, lining up his next throw.
Fourth round. Theodore misses and has to explain why he’s been banned from two bars in the city—the answers involve a live aquarium at one and a deer’s head mounted on the wall at another.
Fifth round. I miss again and groan.
“Does she know you’re sitting in a bar on a Tuesday looking like someone kicked your dog, asking us for advice?” Alvin asks.
“No, asshole.”
“Why doesn’t she know?” Simon asks.
“There’s no—” I stop. They’re all looking at me. Even Easton has the decency to look slightly apologetic about the situation he’s created. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s always complicated,” Simon says. “That’s not an answer.”
“She’s aware of our history.” It feels obvious but apparently isn’t. “That’s two questions answered.”
I line up my next throw. Hit the eighteen. It’s a small mercy.
The sixth round passes without incident. Theodore wins the sub round and doesn’t have to answer why he called his coach the wrong name for an entire season—which Alvin brings up anyway just to annoy him. I welcome the distraction.
Seventh round. I miss by a margin that seems to match my play on the field lately.
Easton doesn’t even turn away from the dartboard. “How long have you been playing like you don’t want her?”
“Three years.” I give my half-truth because I’m tired, and the beer is doing its job. I’ve apparently decided tonight is the night I’m done keeping it all inside.
The room goes quiet for a second.
“Three years?” Alvin repeats.
“Give or take.” They don’t need to know about all the years before that.
“And before the three years?” Simon asks.
“A long time.”
“How long is a long time?” Theodore takes a pull from his beer.
“Her dad was my coach.” My answer is the left of the truth because I’m not telling them it’s Penelope Ripley, but they get the gist of the reason why there’s a line in the sand.
Simon sets his darts on the rail. “Her dad was your coach?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been in love with her since before that?” Something in Simon’s tone tells me he already understands the situation I’m in.
I don’t answer.
“That’s a yes,” Alvin tells Simon.
“I know it’s a yes,” Simon says and rolls his eyes.
Theodore picks his darts back up. “Okay, here’s my question. And I’m asking this as someone with zero personal investment in the outcome.” He points a dart at me. “What are you waiting for?”
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.
