Update

     “I’m trying to figure out,” said Marrianne, “why you aren’t going to call this woman again.”

     “What?”  I asked, leaning against the counter, wine glass in hand.

     “Why would you not want to call her back to hang out again?  She sounds like a perfect candidate for your cell phone check mark thing.”  She dismissively waved the spatula in the air.

     “It’s not me.  I would love to hang out with her again.  She’s age appropriate. She’s in fact 3 years OLDER.  I think her profile said she’s 50 or 51.  She’s a doctor, or she was when she lived in France.  Her kids are grown and out of the house and she’s hot as hell.  Do you know who Helen Mirren is?  She looks like her 20 years ago but French.”

     Marrianne shrugged her shoulders.  She and Kyle had started the divorce process.  Financially she was much better off than he was. The question was, does she pay him alimony?  This was not a question she was happy with answering so she was ignoring it, for now.

     I would stop by every two weeks to make sure she was ok.  Her world had become work, kids, and this house.  No time for dating.  Sometimes I would bring food.  Sometimes she would cook.

     “Here I’ll show you.”

     As I pulled out my phone to show her the pictures of how much my French Connection looked like Helen Mirren the phone went from 50% to 5% then immediately shut off.

     “Motherf....”

     “You installed the new update, didn’t you?” she asked tasting the sauce for the chicken fettuccine.  “You installed the new update on that old ass phone and it isn’t working, is it?”

     I saw her charger on the side of the kitchen island.

     “Well at least they didn’t change the chargers yet.  Do you mind?” I asked plugging in my phone.  A moment later and it was back on but only up to 10%.  I showed her the photos.

     “So what do you think?”  I asked Marrianne.

     “She’s really pretty.  And yes she does look like a taller, younger Helen Mirren.  I just don’t understand why you won’t call her.”

     “It’s not me.  She has a checklist that she’s working through.  There’s shit she never did before she got married that she is 100% going to do before she settles down again.  If she’s still interested in the future she might call me.

     “Hook up with a younger, black guy?  Check.”  I clicked a check mark off in the air. 

     She raised an eyebrow.

     “At least the update you gave her actually worked!” she looked at my phone, then poured the pasta and chicken into the Alfredo sauce.

Shorts

     “Dear God no I don’t wear shorts!” I said looking at her reflection while I critiqued myself in the mirror.  “I look like I have little brown toothpicks jammed between my ass cheeks and my shoes.  I’m like the guy who skipped leg day, ankle day, knee day, calf day, all that shit.”

     “So what do you wear to the beach?” she asked.

     “I really don’t go to the beach.  If anything I’ll go to the bar near the beach but mainly I avoid the beach.”

     “What about when you go running?” she said, rolling the blankets back.

     “That doesn’t count.”

     “What do you mean that doesn’t count?”

     “I see running as torture.  If I have to suffer through running everyone else also suffers by seeing my scrawny little chicken legs.

     “People on vacation, on the beach, or just out for a leisurely walk should not need to suffer these tiny calves.”

     “Well what are you going to do for your birthday?  Weren’t you going to go to the beach or something?

     “No,” I said shaking my head.  “I said I was going to drink shots of sex on the beach.  Completely different.

     “I may have even said I’m going to try to have sex on the beach but, trust me, like my tiny calves, nobody wants to see that.”

     There was a moment of first time hook up silence.

     “So next time, if there is a next time,” she said, with a coy smile.

     “I certainly hope there is a next time,” I said enthusiastically. 

     “This was fun.  I usually hate dating apps but this was worth it.”

     “Thank you,” I replied, realizing at the moment there wasn’t going to be a next time.

     “So, as I was saying, if there is a next time, it’s sex on the beach.  You can walk over to me with those scrawny calves and stir my drink with your toothpick.”  She slapped my ass as she headed for the bathroom.

     “By the way those calves aren’t as bad as you think,” she said turning on the shower.

     It was a good feeling to know these tiny calves hadn’t caused any suffering this evening.

Fracture

      “What I mean is,” I said over a sketchy at best video call, “once you hit a certain age you just don’t really make new friends.  Everybody steps away to do the life thing and the world fractures a bit.

     “I mean Stotler has two kids now.  I’ve seen him for a total of 20 minutes over the past eight years.  I still haven’t talked to Derich.  Riley is almost 6 months old.  Never met her.”

     “I know what you mean.” Said Karen with her second glass of wine smile.    “It could be worse.  I mean Tony and I had an amicable divorce.  We still talk and still do breakfast on Sundays when the kids are in town but I’ll be god damned.  People we’ve known our entire married lives were taking sides.”

     “Well, you two were like the poster kids for the perfect marriage for those who didn’t know what was going on.  The main reason most of them are so angry is probably because they’re miserable and want to get the fuck out but they don’t.  They just stay and smile for the public.  Bleh.  Fuck that.”

     “I know.  I know.  I thought my younger sister would be all about it.  I was hoping this would open the door for her.  She’s in HELL but she stays.  For god’s sake she sleeps in the kid’s room.” Karen rolled her eyes then took another sip of wine.

     “Why does she stay?”  I asked.  The sugarless herbal tea had a nice bite to it.  I didn’t mention anything about Marianne.  She hadn’t made her situation public yet and it wasn’t my place.

     “I. Don’t. Know.  Neither does she.  She doesn’t want to talk about it.  She just hopes everything will get better.”

     “Damn.  Maybe I’m not the only one who needs new friends,” I said finishing my tea.

     “From what Tony tells me you don’t need any new friends,” she said finishing her wine. “Maybe you can find some new friends in that phone of yours.  Five hundred contacts!  Dear God!”  She laughed a little to herself.

     “Seriously?  Ok how many contacts do you have in your phone?”  

     “38 and most of it is family and work.”

     “In my defense I’m not on twit/face/insta/space to keep up with people.”

     “I want another glass of wine but I don’t want to open another bottle.”

     “The struggle is real, Karen.  I know that pain.”

     “And don’t get me started on twit/face/insta.  When some people heard about the divorce a few of Tony’s friends, who will remain nameless reached out to make sure I was O.K.” She said making air quotes.  “That’s what I meant about taking sides.”  The video froze for a second then came back.

     “Really?”

     “Yeah, really. ‘If you need some company let me know.’ Assholes.  Hell, maybe I should be looking for new friends.”

     “I’ve asked if people need company.”

     “Yes but you didn’t immediately follow it up with a dick pic.”

     “Ah, ok.  Makes sense.”

     “You know if you’re really serious about new friends I hear Amber’s friend Tessa is really interested in hanging out.”  I could feel her laugh through the screen.  Her nose crinkled up and she actually snorted.

     “Tessa is so young,” I said shaking my head

     “Oh trust me I know,” she said laughing.  “I know.  And on that note I have to go.  I have zoom meetings all morning and if we keep talking I WILL open that bottle.”

     “Sleep well, buddy.”

     It was nice to see that you could step away to do life things and not have the world fracture.

Contacts

    “How many contacts do you have in your phone.” I asked, chilling out on the couch.

     “What?” Tony half asked putting the food on the coffee table.

     “I was just looking at all the people I have in my phone. I realized half the numbers or emails are wrong.”

     “Damn.  I don’t know.  I don’t even think about it.  I text Karen, Amber, you, and the kids.  That’s about it.  Everything else is work related and the work stuff is emails and extensions.  If I really had to guess I’d say about fifty.”

     “Oh,” I half said to myself.

     “Why?  How many do you have?”

     “Five or six ... hundred”

     “Really?  Why do you need five or six hundred contacts?” He asked almost choking on his nachos.

     “I’m trying to figure that out myself.  In my defense I asked one of the girls in my office how many contacts she had and it was somewhere near a thousand.”

     “One thousand contacts? Is she a drug dealer or something?” Tony asked, laughing.

     “I know, right?”

     “But five hundred,” he said finally sitting in his chair, “that’s a hell of a lot, too.”

     “Some of it’s old music contacts.  Some of it’s old hook ups.  I have to agree: five hundred is too many contacts.  I tried to narrow it down a few years ago.  Sent out a text that said: ‘Hi you might remember me from (wherever).  Cleaning up numbers in my phone.  Is this the phone of insert-name-here?  If not let me know and I will remove it.  Thank you.’ ”

     “How’d that work out?” he asked.

     “I think I sent out about 65 texts ...”

     “Jesus, 65?” he interrupted.

     “Remember the woman in my office said over thousand” I said, attempting to justify.  “I got about 35 replies.  Not horrible.”

     “Did you delete the others?”

     He could tell by my silence and cringe expression that the answer was no.

     “How about the old hook ups?  Did you delete them?”

     “You know, they were interested at one point.  I figured I would keep them just in case they ... ”  I realized my delusion as the words left my mouth.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

    “How do you know the hook ups?” He asked, pulling a long chain of cheese and chicken nachos off of the pile.

     “I put little check marks next to their names.”

     “A ranking system?”

     “No.”  My nacho chain was nothing to brag about.  “Just a fond reminder of who to remember.”

     “As long as that list isn’t five hundred people long you should be ok.”

     “You know, Tony, I’ve been single for a long time but I have to agree: the thought of five hundred hookups is too many for me.”

Dry Run

     “You ok?” I asked following Marrianne down the the hall to the living room.  “I mean as ok as you can be?”

     ”Yes,” she said sitting on the couch, “Mom had been sick for a while.  We tried to get her to move in with us but she said no.  Charlie asked if she wanted to move in with him and she said she was happy here.”

     I thought back to our phone calls and the edge in her voice.  She was worried about her mom.

     “She was managing all right until a couple months ago then things just cratered.”

     “Oh, Mare, I’m so sorry.  What do you need?  Is there anything I can help you with?”

     “No,” she smiled and looked around the house.  “It’s just...” her voice trailed off.

     “You’ve got Kyle and the kids.”

     “Don’t get me started,” she said rolling her eyes.

     “Oh really?!?  I thought everything was...”

     “He’s a great dad and when he works he makes really good money but the consulting hasn’t been good the last two years.”

     “Sorry.”  I could feel the small bottle of Jager in my pocket.

     “And ...  he’s a shit husband,” she confessed.  I hung my head and exhaled.  “That’s the other reason I’ve been going back and forth.  I’ve been here since Mom had her heart attack.  I don’t know when or if I’m going back.
     “90% of my job is work from home.  If I really need to go into the office they have a location in Hartford.  The kids already have their own rooms.”  This was a well thought out plan that was finally being vocalized.  It felt like a dry run for a conversation she would be having very soon.  “I’m re-evaluating things.”
     “How are the kids taking it?”
     “They’re little.  They know something’s going on but they don’t really know.”

     “Damn!”

     “I know.  It’s a lot.  Between that and Mom it’s been a shit show.”

     “I had no idea.”

     “Oh that’s right.  You’re not on twit/face/insta/space.”

     “Naw.  I just couldn’t do it any more.  The politics were just too ugly.  I just kept being disappointed by people.  Rather than fire friends I just took myself out of the equation.”

     “Makes sense,” she said, taking a deep breath and leaning her head back.  “You really didn’t know I was here?”

     “I didn’t.  I was just coming to do a shot of Jager on the porch to pay tribute to Trudy.  I had no idea you were here.”

     Her nose pinched up and she furrowed her brow.

     “Mom didn’t drink Jager-Blah,” she seemed disgusted by the thought of it.

     “Neither do you.  But I remember a conversation we had years ago when we were kids.  I joked about coming to Boston, drinking Jager like it was my job, then stumbling back to your apartment.  You let me know I would end up hog-tied in the living room, or locked in a closet, or some crazy shit like that.”

     She laughed a well needed laugh.

     “It would have been for your own good,” she smiled and her baby blues twinkled for the first time.

     “Probably.  Hey, kid,” I said, standing up, “It sounds like you have a lot on your plate.  What do you need?  Is there anything I can help you with?”

     “No, but you know what?  I will do that shot with you.”

     The night air had chilled.  It had been a while since I had done shots of Jager.  The body heated booze warmed it’s way to my belly.

     “Blah! I don’t remember it tasting this much like cough syrup,” I said choking a little.

     “I do,” said Marrianne, covering her mouth while she coughed.  “Like I said, Jager-blah.”

     I looked into the dark sky and tried to peer beyond the stars.

     “Are you ok?”

     I took a deep breath and gave her a quick synopsis of my recent interactions with Derich.

     “Wow.”  She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and started typing furiously.  “He’s married to Karen, right?”

     “Yeah,” I said confused.

     “Is this him?” She showed me a picture of a seemingly happy couple on their twit/face/insta/space.

     “Holy shit!”  The third picture showed an obviously pregnant Karen.  This explained everything.  He was going to have three little kids under the age of ten.  If things were financially tight before they were about to be down right constricting now.  The short temper and the doctor rants made complete sense.

     “How do you know Karen?” I asked as the depths of Derich’s dilemma hit me.

     “We used to life guard together in high school.  Our youngest are the same age.”

     Just then the video app on her phone started to ring.  The word Home popped up on the screen.

     “The kids always want to see me before they go to sleep,” she explained as I handed the phone back to her.

     “Happy I got a chance to see you.”  I whispered like they could hear me.  “Let me know how things work out with this dry run you’re trying.”  

     “I will she,” she said headed back inside.

     “Mommy!!!” I heard the two little voices say in unison just before she closed the door. 

     I slipped into the drivers seat of the car and once again thought about the the last few years.  I had been on my own dry run.  Now was the time to decide what direction I wanted to take.  There were so many options.  There was so much to fear.

     The grid was laid out.  I knew what responsibilities needed to be met and how to meet them.  I knew the way.  I had everything I needed to get there without getting derailed.  I just needed to grip the steering wheel and breathe.

House Call

     I just wanted to go home.  Kyle’s words stuck in my head.  ‘If she wants to call you back she will’.  Talos was gone.  Trudy was gone.  Derich was lost in his own pain.  V was half way across the country in her management orientation.

    I would just stop at the liquor store on the way home, get a bottle of brown sugar bourbon, and wash the night away.  In three hours I would be wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket on the couch hoping the spins stop so I could wake up the next day without a care in the world.

     The house that Trudy built was just a five minute detour off my hour drive home.  I had driven by the main road many times because of accidents or detours on 84 but I hadn’t stopped by in years.  

     The new plan was to hit the liquor store, get a bottle, stop by the house, pay my respects to the memory of Marrianne’s parents, and THEN wash the night away on my couch.  It was like something was calling me to the house and I had to be there.

     I looked up obituaries on my phone.  The funeral had been exactly one week earlier.  It seemed like Trudy lingered after the heart attack.  The site said Trudy was surrounded by Marrianne, her brother Charlie, and their respective families when she passed.  No wonder Marrianne had been reaching out but not picking up.  

     The GPS app said the trip should take 45 minutes, that included the stop at the store.  

     The highway was empty except for the memories and reflections.  I thought back to times spent on Marrianne’s porch before she headed off to college.  I  laughed about showing up a week late for her wedding and not realizing I was at the wrong wedding until they mentioned the name of the bride and the groom.

     I thought about the last three years.  Job loss, cash flow problems, and the fear that had woken me up nights.  These things all seemed so small and temporary.  I remembered Karen’s idea of steps rather than goals and tried to will away the worry.

     The two bottles I picked up at the store clinked together as I turned off the main road on to the side street.  I held on to them so they wouldn’t slide from the passenger’s seat to the floor.  The brown sugar bourbon was for later.  The small bottle of Jaegermeister was for the memory of Trudy. 

     I was caught off guard when I saw downstairs lights on and the small Subaru parked in the semicircular driveway.  My heart jumped when the Vermont license plate came into view.

      I parked next to the Subaru and slid the small bottle of Jager into my inner coat pocket.

     It took two rounds of knocking before she finally came to the door.  For a moment I thought she was going to, understandably, leave me out in the cold.  Though there had been a lot of sporadic texting and the occasional phone call, it had actually been years since I had seen her in person.

     “Hey,” she said quietly standing in the doorway.  Her eyes were red from crying.  Her silver lined curls were pulled back into a loose ponytail.

     “I’m so sor..” I heard the catch in my voice and felt the tears welling.  “I’m so sorry,” I finished, hanging my head.  “I didn’t know.  I was stopping by to pay my respects.  I didn’t know anyone was here.  I was going to do a shot of Jager on the porch then head to my house.”

     I felt empty and small.  I just wanted to go home.

     “Both of my parents are gone,” she said as she hugged me and let herself cry into my shoulder.  As much as I wanted to go home, something had called me to the house and I had to be there.

Sketches of Pain

    I looked at the sky and took a deep breath.  What was left of the grey day was fading into the early darkness of fall.  I could barely see my reflection in the driver’s side window of my car.  It was there, but it was a light sketch with no distinct details.

     “What’s up, Kyle?”  I said, my energy waning like the day itself.  “Marrianne’s been trying to reach out but we keep missing each other.”

     “I know.”  He said.  “She was trying to find out why you weren’t at the funeral.”

     “Funeral?!?”  I asked, completely perplexed.

     “We thought you were in hibernation.”

     “No. January.”  I slumped in the front seat and pushed deep into the headrest.  “What funeral?”

     “Trudy had a heart attack three weeks ago.”

     Everything stopped.  Talos had passed away years ago.  It had been a long messy battle with cancer.  As much as Marrianne loved Kyle, they had rushed the wedding in hopes they’d be married before he died.  Where I was a week late for the marriage, he passed away a month before.  He and Trudy had been married for 35 years.

     Talos never met Marrianne’s kids.  He never met her brother’s kids.  Her brother’s wife was four months pregnant when the world fell apart.  Since they had nothing Trudy gave them everything they needed to get started.

     She outlived Talos by eleven years.  She never remarried.  Her time was taken up by volunteering, light travel, an occasional ‘friend’, but mainly her grandkids.  She maintained the house so her kids could always come back to their roots when they needed to reset their lives.

     “Shit, man.  I’m sorry.  How are you guys?  How are the kids?”

     Silence.  A small voice in the background asked when Mommy was coming back.

     “I’ll tell her you called.”

     “Kyle.”  I heard the little voice in the background ask for Mommy again.

     “If she wants to call you back she will.”

     “Kyle?!?”

     “I’ve gotta feed my kids dinner.  If she wants to talk, she’ll call.”

     “Kyle, she did call that’s why I’m...”. The phone beeped off.

     I looked up through the sunroof.  Darkness had fallen.  There was no reflection, no details, not even a light sketch.