AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nothing about the way I feel is new, but where I usually stay silent and let the discomfort pass, suddenly I don’t want to, tonight. I don’t know how to say what I need to say. In many ways, I’m grieving the loss of a person who’s still alive… torturing myself in the process. Wishing that it could be different.
Grief is a familiar friend that I cling to… a bridge to connect with him.
“Do you remember Chris?” I break the silence.
Mark furrows his brow as he tips his head slightly to the side.
“From high school. Chris Givens,” I continue. “He was the equipment boy for the team.”
He lifts his empty beer bottle to take a sip. Realizing it’s empty, he puts it down again. “Oh. Yeh.Monkey Boy. Of course. How could I forget?”
The image of Chris shimmying the field goal and walking the crossbar, his arms teetering out wide like a tightrope walker, flashes through my mind. He was a tiny kid, but hecouldclimb. Nobody else on the team could get up there. So when some of the guys on the team tried and failed, instead of applauding Chris, they just turned it into another way of making fun of him.
“C’mon. Knock it off, Mark.”
“Yeah. Sorry, man.” Mark says. “I know. What made you think of him?”
I contemplate the question. Whatdidmake me think of Chris? We were never close friends, far from it… but he looked up to me in a way that no one ever did. Or has, ever since. It was like he saw through all the money. The popularity. The hype. He saw me, for me. I didn’t see it then, but it has become clearer to me over the years. There was a potential in Chris, the possibility of a genuine friendship that I never gave a chance. That I was too shallow to allow.
And now I realize why I thought of him just now. “The anniversary is this week.”
Mark blinks and I can see in his eyes he remembers. He shifts in the booth, his discomfort obvious. His phone vibrates, breaking the tension, and he snatches it so quickly he knocks over the empty bottle in front of him.
“Hey babe.” He looks away to avoid my gaze, as if he’s afraid she might see who he’s with. “Yeah, I just swung by Andrea’s for a beer with Carl… sounds good. See you soon.”
He hangs up and blushes. “Sorry about the ‘Carl’ thing.”
I lift my hands, smiling at him. “I get it. Trust me.”
“Julie just… well, she just wouldn’t understand.”
“Mark. I get it. You don’t need to apologize.”
He nods. “Well, I better get going.” He slides across the bench to the booth exit and stands up. For the first time in any of these regular meetings with Mark, I feel the deep emptiness that our friendship has become. A friendly rift between us that is growing wider. If there is such a thing.
Unlike Chris, my friendship with Mark had always been more than just potential. It was a genuine bond… and it feels like it is falling apart rapidly.
I meet his gaze. “You know I’m here for you, right?” It feels like there is nothing I can do to save us, but I need to be there for him, anyway.
He pauses halfway out of the booth. “Y-yeh,” he stutters.
“Good. Because you were there for me when I had no one. So whatever I can do… it’s theleastI can do.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. The appreciation is gone from his face, replaced with shame. “Have a good one, Jamie.”
My shoulders slump as I’m left alone in the booth. Where the hell did I go wrong? That’s a question with so many answers.
At this moment, I really appreciate the triple pour of whiskey in front of me. I raise the glass to my lips and let the rest spill effortlessly down my throat, filling my chest with its burning numbness. The sound of the crowd has become even louder than when I first sat down, and the unintelligible conversations around me remind me it’s a Saturday night and I have no one to talk to. No one to even text.
The image of my parents comes to mind. Maybe it’s time to finally go visit them. It’s a decision I keep putting off, but it’s beginning to feel more and more appealing.
From across the café, a familiar face appears. Her hair is up, and she’s wearing that same pink sweater she was wearing the first time I saw her. I have no reason to talk to her. In fact, I’m fairly certain she hates me right now. Maybe it’s the whiskey. Maybe it’s the realization that she’s different from other women. Or maybe I justwanther to be different. Either way, I’m out of my booth and headed to the bar, desperate to talk to Lara.
Chapter 10
Lara
I’mfinallybeginningtorelax. It’s only taken three vodkas and a shot of whiskey, but the numbness coursing through my veins is comforting. My mind is quiet, and it’s just what I need after the day I’ve had.
