Page 13 of Scoring Chance

"Your high school ID."

"That's something old."

"Oh good Lord," I scream out.

Next, he hands me one of his credit cards.

"Your Visa card?"

"That's a brand new card I just got. You can see the expiration date. Something new. Get it?"

"Nothing says romance like a credit card."

"That's what my ex-wife used to say—well, before she wrecked our credit rating," Hank says. Back into the bag his hand goes. "Then, here's this. It's kind of a two-for-one."

He pulls out a CD case with a blue blob artwork on the front. Third Eye Blind’s album Blue. I've instantly been transported to the year 2000.

I flash back to memories of putting CDs into my car stereo and flipping through my big book of CDs while driving—something that was probably ten times more dangerous than texting and driving.

"That's my Third Eye Blind CD," says Hank.

“Why do you still have this?”

"I believe in keeping physical media.” He takes the CD, then makes a big gesture of handing it back to me. “I’m letting you borrow it. And, could you tell me the name of the album?”

"Blue," I say flatly.

“Yes! Something borrowed and blue! Take that, wedding traditions!” His voice echoes off the bathroom walls. "Maybe there's a song in there that we can play…for your first dance with Tanner." Hank chokes up, and I shoot him all the daggers in the world.

"There's no first dance, no last dance, no dancing at all," I remind him, "because this is not a real wedding."

I want to give back these things, but Hank's eyes are so wide and so hopeful. And what's the big deal if I hold onto this crap for the few minutes of legal proceedings?

“Yes! I knew you were a quasi-romantic,” Hank proclaims. The CD case barely manages to fit into the front of my jacket pocket.

I wave his credit card. "I guess lunch is on you."

I turn and give Hank a final check. I lick my thumb and smooth out his eyebrows. He’s a good-looking guy, one man-size puppy dog. I straighten the collar on his shirt.

“Hank…” I notice him looking up, trying to hold tears.

"I know, I know. Just let me have this moment, since you're not gonna let me make a best man speech."

"You're not my best man. Hank, you're a witness."

"But if you were having a wedding, I would be your best man.”

“If I were getting married, Tanner would be my best man."

"Well, you can't have your groom be your best man."

I decide not to go down this rabbit hole. I let Hank have the victory. "Yes, Hank. You would be my best man."

He pulls an empty, plastic champagne flute from his backpack and fills it with sink water. He clears his throat to ensure none of the other bathroom users interrupt him.

"Des, I've known you for more than half your life. None of us ever thought that you'd get married. You were so scared, you thought it was like a venereal disease. But Tanner has always been the one to get through to you. He's been able to open you up and make you this warmer, gentler person. I don’t know the twists and turns of the universe that brings two people together, but I’m so glad you two found each other. I think you make a really wonderful couple. You're gonna make an excellent father."

I shudder at him calling me a father.