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We walked back to his truck, and I handed up the equipment which he slotted into the truck bed. He jumped off the tailgate and paused. “Fuck, I forgot.”
Hurrying around to the passenger seat, he grabbed a wrapped present off the seat. Based on the curled ribbons and the bright wrapping paper, his girlfriend helped him.
“Millie wrapped it,” he admitted. “Sorry I couldn’t make the birthday party…err, didn’t want to make the birthday party.”
“Not a big deal.” I said, taking the gift. “Millie said you weren’t feeling well.”
His lips lifted into as much of a smile as he could manage. “Liar. I love that woman.”
“Well, don’t worry about it,” I opened the gift. Inside, a tiny metal figurine glinted in the dying sun. I pulled it out. “Is this me?”
Len laughed. “Yeah. This campaign, anyway.”
The tiny miniature held a long broadsword. Under a metal helmet, the goateed ranger grinned.
“I can’t believe you built something so tiny.”
I’d only seen a couple of Len’s pieces. They were warehouse-sized, huge, sprawling sets, not thumb-sized casts.
“It was a huge pain in the ass and had I known it would take me a month to cast something so detailed, I wouldn’t have bothered,” he grumbled. “Besides, we’re going to finish Rangers of Shadow Deep soon and move onto something new.”
The admission was probably as close as I’d ever get to a “thanks for being my friend” from Len, but I appreciated it just as much. “This is amazing. Thanks.”
“Don’t get all gooey on me.” He smacked a palm over my shoulder. “Especially when we have a cyclops to deal with.”
* * *
The cyclops dispatched, Len and I lingered over the last of a six-pack.
In the early days of our friendship, we’d attempt awkward conversation. The board games helped. We played classics like Carcassonne and Settlers of Catan. Len grunted out single-word replies while I attempted to channel Thea and her natural chattiness. Neither of us had much experience making friends as an adult. I had Thea and Len never had any friends. We navigated our new and tenuous relationship by plunking a board game between us.
The weekly hangouts started with standalone games. As the months passed, we gravitated toward more complex games that stretched over months and years. Our current game delved as close to Dungeons and Dragons as we could get without bringing in a third player.
“So, how was your birthday?” Len asked. He settled back in the dining room chair, legs splayed out. In front of us sat the board we’d conquered, the cyclops dead on his back.
“Good. Thea and I drank a little too much and went to lunch at my parent’s too hungover to celebrate.” I shrugged. “Thea’s on a tear, though.”
Len lifted an eyebrow and nodded, a subtle encouragement to keep talking.
“She’s freaking out a little.”
“About turning twenty-seven?” he asked with a laugh. “Try thirty-two.”
“No. It’s not an age thing. I’m pretty sure it has more to do with her mom.”
Len stared at me blankly.
“You knew her mom died, right? When we were young?” I asked.
“Of course, I knew that. Who doesn’t know that?” Len blustered.
“Just checking.”
Despite growing up in the same town, Len and I had two vastly different childhoods, separated by only a few years. More of a recluse and with a far less stable family situation in his youth, Len had turned inward. I didn’t blame him for not keeping up with the gossip, especially when so much of it revolved around him.
“But she died, what? Twenty years ago?”
“Nearly. Her mom was twenty-seven.”
