Wes taps the bar, then walks to the other end of the bar toward a group of men waving him down.
Staring down at the brown carbonated drink, I tilt my head back and down it like a shot. The sugar in the Coke does little to mask the steely bite of the alcohol.
I don’t know why I ordered whiskey. I don’t even like whiskey.
Walker’s and Mama’s words play on an endless loop in my mind, poking at an insecurity that I’ve gotten good at hiding.
Problem. Inconvenience. Overlooked. Worthless.
That’s me.
Rubbing my temples, I push the thought away. I can ruminate over the nuances of my childhood some other time. Preferably, when I’m back in New York.
“Wes, another drink, please,” I request as he walks by. “But something with gin this time. Surprise me.”
He nods and quickly hands me another glass.
Turning on my seat, I scan the rest of the bar and sip on my new drink. The low light illuminates just enough for me to see, but not enough to make out specific details.
Everything is in the same place.
The dart boards, worn billiard tables, and scattered seating. The wall of pictures of famous people who have stopped in for a quick drink. Even the random sets of antlers.
It’s almost like walking into a time capsule, but the view makes me smile.
“Jelly Bean!”
My head jerks to the side in shock. Turning to the voice, a wave of confusion stirs inside. The same gray eyes from the other day are playful rather than full of unexpected malice. Then again, after the way Grant looked at me at the diner, I could claim the gaiety is unexpected.
While I’m still trying to decide how to react, Grant plops down on the stool next to mine with a half-empty beer in hand. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already, Jelly Bean.” His lop-sided smile puts me at ease.
“I could never forget you, Grant,” I finally reply as I gently shove his shoulder. “But maybe we could forget that nickname.”
“I don’t see that happening any time soon.” Grant finishes off his beer, setting the glass on the bar top. “It’s good to see you.”
Deciding I’m not going to beat around the bush, I just go for it. “You didn’t seem so happy the other day at Main Street Diner.”
Grant tips his head from side to side. “I had a migraine.” I start to say something else, but he doesn’t let me get a word in. “I’m really happy you’re back,” he declares, lowering his voice and leaning in closer as his words slightly slur together.
“I—”
Grant’s eyes slide past me and narrow. He rises to his feet and engulfs me in a hug. I feel him kiss the top of my head, then he pulls back. “I’d better get going. See you around, Jelly Bean.”
He trudges away, grabs his jacket by the door, and leaves.
I sit there for a moment, confused as hell. Grant and I always had easy conversations. I never confided anything of great importance in him, but that entire interaction was awkward. And I don’t know why.
Maybe I really am what Mama says I am, but to more than just her…
Burden.
My smile falters.
Good-for-nothing.
My vision blurs.
Worthless.
