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GRAHAM
Usually, when I get together with one of my friends—ifI have time to get together with a friend—it’s business that distracts me. There’s never a moment there isn’t something to do. Someone is always waiting, the emails never stop. There are fires and problems everywhere and every day.
I know I shouldn’t let my work life get in the way of relationships, but if I don’t do it, no one else will. And more importantly, everything I’ve spent years working my ass off for could unravel.
My friend Brian, with short brownish red hair and a five o'clock shadow, sits across from me at a sports bar that rides the line between upscale and pretentious. The TVs boast the football game and I know Brian has a couple hundred riding on it.
On the next run, when Brian settles into our booth with his hand curled around his beer and his eyes focused on the play, I take out my phone. I tap the screen and scroll through the emails that have come through. But I’m also checking for something else.
Any messages from Maddie.
She hasn’t sent one, but I have half a message typed out.
No pressure, but I was thinking…
It’s a ridiculous way to start a text. I delete it and try again.
The apartment building is nice, but there are other places we could go, if you were interested in…
That’s a smooth way to ask a woman out. By reminding her that other places exist. I delete it all again with frustration that Brian picks up on. His gaze drops to my phone and then back to the flat screen TV. I’m sure he assumes it’s just business. Heat scorches the back of my neck. In a way, that’s what it is.But I want more.
I clear my throat and take a swig of my beer.
I want to ask her out. That’s the whole point of writing and rewriting the text. I just don’t know how, given the way things started between us.
I’m willing to accept responsibility for that. I just don’t know how to fucking fix it.
“Always the emails, right?” Brian smiles at me, his eyes crinkling. He’s the same way. We keep tabs on our money at all hours of the day. “They never stop.”
I swipe into my email app just so I’m not a total liar. “Yeah. That’s how it goes.” He must sense something off because his eyes narrow, and even though the next play starts, he doesn’t give the TV his attention.
“What’s new with you?”
“More acquisitions,” I tell him, that burning feeling at the back of my neck comes back at the thought of my most recentacquisition. “Getting into stocks and hedge funds as well.”
“Sounds boring,” he states and then takes a large gulp of beer.
I laugh at that—can’t help it. Brian works on Wall Street, like he always planned to. He came from money, but not the kind the two of us are making now. He always wanted to get to that nextlevel, and Brian’s done it without leaving a single thing behind, unlike me.
I guess I haven’t left Brian behind, which is saying something. We’ve been friends since grade school. His parents are proud of him. They’ve said they’re proud of me, too, and they’ve always been kind, but I don’t see them as family.
Brian and I watch the game until a commercial break comes on. He orders chips and salsa, then looks at me across the table.
“You should come to the Berkshires with us this winter,” he suggests.
I’ve been there before. They have a nice place, but it’s a little too family-oriented for my liking. It makes sense for Brian to want to go, though. He’s married, and before too long, they’ll only want places that are family-oriented.
I tend to my drink and ignore how that makes me feel cold.
Not the Berkshires in the winter, but Brian and his wife—all my friends and their wives—becomingfamilies, with me on the outside.
I’ve never wanted a family or areplacementfamily. Not since my parents died. Families are a limited-time thing. They always fall apart and it fucking hurts when they do.
The waitress comes back and puts the chips and salsa between us. Brian dips a chip into the salsa and looks at me, eyebrows raised.
“We’ll see,” I hedge.
Brian scoffs. “What else are you going to do? Sit in your fancy penthouse alone?”