2007
I took a sip of my beer as Vance sank the eight-ball into the right corner pocket. That was the third game he’d won tonight when normally I smoked his ass two out of every three times. It was no surprise though. Elise had been gone two months, and I still was as off-kilter and distracted as I’d been the day she left. I tried to call her several times, but she would never answer. Finally, she changed her number. I went to her job to try to ambush her and force her to talk to me. I only learned that she’d been terminated the week before. The very friendly receptionist was eager to tell me why as she tried to slip me her digits, but she didn’t need to. I already knew.
“Hey man,” Vance called as he racked the balls up again. “You want to play again, or shall we go have another beer?”
“Nah, Bryant and Griffin can have the table. It’s probably safer for Griffin than playing darts like they are now,” I said with a nod toward the two men. Bryant was standing at some weird angle in front of the board. He called it his “patented dart-throwing stance” which looked more like a cross between a baseball pitcher’s wind-up and the crane pose from the Karate Kid.
Vance laughed. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if he hits the target for once.”
I looked at him dubiously. “There’s no fucking way he even hits the outer rim.”
Just then, Bryant let the dart fly, nearly taking out the new waitress’ eye as she walked past with a tray of drinks. She jumped back, every drink and beer bottle crashing to the floor.
He rushed to help the woman who was so distressed, she had tears in her eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was embarrassed or if it was because it was her first night, and she was afraid of getting fired. In any case, Bryant tried to help her pick up the broken glass while alternately rubbing her back and trying to comfort her. I just shook my head. Leave it to Bryant to nearly maim someone and still try to pick up on her.
Vance nudged my shoulder. When I looked at him, he gave a brief chin nod toward the dartboard. Even after all that, or maybe because of it, the fucker had just managed to lodge the dart in the edge of the target.
“Pay up, Ashcroft,” I said with a sly smile.
Vance laughed as we put our pool cues away, and Griffin joined us. He dug into his pocket and fished out a crumpled twenty. “Beers are on you, big guy,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder.
While Bryant continued to assist the unfortunate waitress, the three of us slid into a booth, arguing over who would go to the bar to get the beers since our server was indisposed. Finally, Griffin let out a large sigh.
“Fine. I’m thirsty so I’ll go get the damned beers. Lazy asses.”
We laughed as he walked away. As our chuckles died down, Vance looked at me seriously.
“So, how you doing’, man? Any word from Elise?”
I felt what little relief I’d been feeling retreat. My shoulders sagged as I looked down at my hands and shook my head.
“Not a word. She changed her number, and as I told you before, she lost her job. I have no clue where Leah lives, so it’s like she’s a ghost now. I have no way to reach her.”
“What about her other friends? What about that girl Bryant was seeing when you two met?”
“Christina. She said she hasn’t heard from her in over a year. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know. She could just be covering for her because Elise told her she doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Fuck. I wish I knew what to say, Justin.”
“Yeah, I know. I’d like to sack up and say, ‘Fuck her, it’s her loss, but I’m about as low as a guy can get right now. I never thought we’d break up, but if you’d forced me to imagine it, I wouldn’t have come up with anything like this.”
Griffin returned with three open bottles, sliding one across the worn table to me and the other to Vance.
“The way I see it, Sever,” he began as he sat down, “you just gotta move on. Yeah, you had something great for a good run. Now, it’s time to look for the next great thing in your life.”
“Spoken like a man who has never been in love,” I said.
“You’re the only one of us who has ever been in love, Justin,” Vance pointed out.
“What are you talking about? I’ve been in love hundreds of times!” Bryant exclaimed as he slid into the booth next to Griffin.
“Shut up, Lewis,” we said in unison.
“I didn’t mean you should go out looking for another girl, Justin,” Griffin continued. “Maybe it’s time you did something with your life other than work in that shitty warehouse. You’re smart, you’re talented—I’ve never seen anyone who can draw the way that you can—why are you still wasting your time hauling boxes and driving a forklift?”
“What the hell else am I going to do?” I asked, looking down at my inked arms. “I don’t exactly look like college boy material now, do I?”
Griffin snorted. “Who gives a fuck what you look like? I don’t think you’d be joining a fraternity, anyway. Go get a damned education. The one you blew off when you lost your head over Kylie Moore.”
He was right, and I knew it. Having just had a birthday, I was twenty-four years old. Without Elise in my future, my life was going to end up being a sea of days spent toiling away at a job I really didn’t like. Yes, I would have done it for a million years if it meant keeping my girl, but I hadn’t kept her. She not only moved on, she cut me out of her life.
“You know what? You’re right. Feeling sorry for myself sucks, that’s for sure,” I said as I took a healthy swig of my beer.
A plan began to formulate in my mind. My Dad had always touted computers as being the way of the future, which used to make me laugh because it wasn’t like they were a new invention or anything. Until the day I realized that for him, they kind of were. I loved art, had always doodled my way through classes and kept a sketchbook on hand at home for the times I just felt like drawing. It only seemed right to somehow combine the two things. I let the idea simmer in the back of my brain while the guys and I moved on to other topics, namely Bryant’s new conquest, the waitress.
All day the next day, I thought about my future. Sure, I was still gutted by Elise, not to mention worried about her, but Griffin was right. I had to move forward.
I thought about graphic design. Most people didn’t know about my love of art and even those who did had no idea the number of sketch pads I had stacked in my closet and more in boxes at my parents’ house. I wouldn’t technically be drawing as a graphic designer, but I’d still be creating. My interest piqued by this possibility, I got online and started researching vocational programs where I could gain the kind of skills I needed to embark on it as a career. After copying several possibilities, I downloaded some free software I could play with. I started making up logos for fictitious companies, most of them shitty looking. Nevertheless, I found I enjoyed the challenge of using my imagination along with my rudimentary computer skills.
Before I knew it, several hours had passed, and it was late evening when my stomach started growling. Wandering into the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator to find three beers, a bottle of mustard, a full package of bologna, and a shriveled lemon. It looked like it was beer and bologna for dinner because I didn’t feel like going out.
I grabbed the lunch meat and mustard before going to the pantry and finding half a loaf of bread. I chuckled to myself thinking it was my lucky night. At least the luckiest I’d had since Elise had left.
I slathered mustard on a few slices of bread, slapped the meat between them and sat down on the sofa with my sandwiches and a beer. I turned on the TV and prepared to zone out. I did that most evenings, minus the sandwiches. I’d just turn on the television and go numb. I’d stare at the images on the screen, not comprehending or even registering what was going on. I mostly turned it on for the noise. The silence of the empty apartment where I had known such happiness before was deafening. I couldn’t take it.
The room had darkened while I ate my sandwiches and spaced out. At some point, I’d gone on auto-pilot and gone to the refrigerator for another beer. I only realized it when I went again and saw that there was one remaining. Thinking that just wouldn’t do for a Saturday night, I swiped my keys from where I’d left them on the kitchen counter with the intent to go get more and maybe even a bottle of Jack to go with it. Sure, I was already numb, had been for months now. I thought maybe I could at least feel pleasantly warm with some whisky in my system. Just as I was stepping out the door, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number but answered, anyway.
A frantic voice greeted me on the other end of the line as soon as I said hello. “Justin!” a female voice shrieked in my ear.
The voice was so loud, I grimaced and pulled the phone away from my head a bit before responding. “Speaking. Who is this?”
“Oh my God, Justin. I don’t know what to do! She’s on the bathroom floor, and she won’t wake up. I need your help.”
A bolt of panic shot through me. The voice was so distorted, I couldn’t be sure who was on the line, but it could only be about Elise. There was no other woman someone would think to call me about if they were injured or unconscious.
“Leah, is that you?” I asked on a whoosh of a breath.
“Yes, yes! I need you to come here and help Elise. She won’t wake up. I think she needs to go to the hospital.”
“For God’s sake, Leah. Call a fucking ambulance. What happened?” I spit into the phone. I didn’t have a high opinion of her in the first place, but the girl had to be an imbecile not to immediately call nine-one-one.
“Well, we were partying and….”
I immediately cut her off, knowing all I needed to for the moment.
“Tell me where you live, and I’ll be right there. In the meantime, call for the goddamned ambulance.” I dashed back into the house and scribbled down the address she gave me, hanging up on her without another word. I was out the door again and on my bike without another thought.