35

      “What is with you and this 35 age cut off?”

     Tessa.  Tony and Amber had kind of talked through their respective worries and had now focused their concentration on me.  I had become wary of any interaction at anyone’s house lately except Marrianne’s.  There was a lingering fear that an intervention was somewhere around the corner.

     There were no drugs.  The drinking was under control.  It was more of a lifestyle intervention.  Next week began the 4 to 5 month hiatus.  The idea was no visits, no trips, just back and forth to work with a trip to see Mom every two weeks.  If I could’ve worked from home I would’ve.  Corporate wanted us in the office. 

     The goal is always the same: meditate, work out, clear the mind and body, get myself back on track to find out what I want and where I want to be for the next 7 months.

     “35.  How do I explain this?  Usually by age 35 you have kind of filtered through at least one or two levels of bullshit, either with your partner/spouse/live-in whatever or yourself.  You have bought something together, not something huge like a house or a car but a couch or a chair or a mattress.  Not something overtly major but something that has required a compromise and a quiet promise.

     “In your 20s you’ve argued to win.  Hopefully by 35 you are discussing to evolve, move forward, or at least learn why winning isn’t always in your best interest.”

     “You hooked up with that French doctor.”

     “She was older.  She might even be 55.”

     “There was the girl, a few years ago, from the theater…”

     “Who I did not know was 28 and didn’t believe me when I told her about hibernation.  She thought she was being humped and dumped.  I told her the truth and it didn’t fly.”

     “How about the teacher from Massachusetts?”

     “Man, that woman showed up with a whole bag of toys.  I could have used one of them to jackhammer the sidewalk in front of the ... what is that?” I asked distracted by the bottle on his kitchen table.

     “This is the new Motor Oil. High Mileage.  It was five years in the making.  Brewed in cherry bourbon barrels.  It is the strongest thing they’ve brewed.  17.1 abv.”

     I almost felt a tear welling up in my eye.

     “How did you get this?  This isn’t supposed to hit the market for a month.  Did you know that as strong as that is, if you let it mature for a year it will just get stronger?”

     “They’re one of Amber’s top clients.”

     My confused look asked the question for me.

     “She handles national and international accounts.  This is one of her national accounts.”

     “Is this … a … bribe?”

     “Think of it as an offering.”

     “You’ve got to be kidding!”

     I was tempted to call Derich.  And tell him about the…

     “No, This is not an offering.  This is mine but I will share it with you in three weeks.”

     “God damn it.  I’ll be in hibernation.”

     “Oh, really?,” he smiled a knowing smile.

     “Clarity, this time gives me clarity.  You can always come to visit me.  You know that right.”

     “Yeah I know.  Sunday afternoons between 2 and 8 pm.  Calls and texts are good during the week but it takes you a little bit longer to get back.”

     “See.  It’s not all bad.”

     “You know Tessa is the oldest one of the crew, right?

     “Is she 35, yet?” I asked picking out last year’s 12.3 abv Motor Oil out of the fridge.

     “No.”

     “The only thing under 35 I will actively be pursuing is that High Mileage Motor Oil and I might even let that mature for a year so it’s at least 18.”