Dominick
The low murmur of the bar on a Tuesday night droned on relentlessly. The sound blurred and blended in with all the other noise in my head, further isolating me from my surroundings. All around me people were talking, but I could no more listen to them than I could focus on the pool table in front of me. I closed my eyes and propped my forehead on my cue, trying my best to think straight. I felt cut off from everything around me, my eyes refusing to focus on anything for more than a fraction of a second.
Distraction.
It had been plaguing me all evening, the very reason I'd gone to the bar in the first place. It started as a feeling of listlessness, a need to occupy myself that persisted no matter how occupied I was. From watching a movie to reorganizing my sock drawer, I had been left with a vague feeling that I needed to be somewhere else. Eventually, it had gotten to a point where I was unable to do anything at all.
When the phone finally rang, it had taken me only a fraction of a second to answer. Alton's familiar voice, normally a welcome one, had been a disappointment. Still, his suggestion to hit the bars had seemed like my best bet for getting rid of this damn feeling of unease, and I'd readily agreed.
Good, old-fashioned fun. That's what this trip should've been, but I'd quickly discovered that there was no fun to be had here—at least by me. Everyone else seemed content with the noise and the heat, the cacophony of prerecorded industrial music that was playing in lieu of the classic rock 'n' roll band that performed on weekends.
"Come on, you gonna shoot or what?" Alton's voice called, jolting me out of my reverie. I shook my head briskly and looked down at the pool table again as if seeing it for the first time. I was losing, badly. Studying the balls, I circled around to line up my next shot—two and six combo, corner pocket.
I was halfway through making my shot before I saw the similarity, making me choke and miss completely. Swearing like a sailor, I threw the cue down in frustration. I shook my head and forced myself to stare at table until finally the two balls, one green and one blue, stopped looking like my daughter's eyes staring up at me.
Alton gave me a confused look, but didn't ask what was going on. I was grateful for that, because there was no way I could've explained it without sounding like I'd gone crazy.
I wasn't even completely sure that I wasn't crazy. They were just two colored balls of heavy plastic, after all. Aside from the color, they looked nothing like her eyes.
Alton's lead on me increased to the point where there was no way I could win anymore, and mercifully he suggested we stop playing early. With a nod from me, Alton grabbed both our beers and carried them to a nearby table.
He'd picked a spot with a clear view of the two attractive students that had been waiting for the table behind us. As one of the young women bent over to reset the game, the other shamelessly locked eyes with us and Alton smiled hungrily.
"She's not wasting any time, is she," Alton said quietly, not breaking his eye contact with the woman. "Dibs on that one. Unless you think she would help cheer you up, of course."
I chuckled, taking a sip of my beer. The crass question had been Alton's ever-so-subtle way of asking me what was wrong, of course. It wasn't very manly to ask your friend about his feelings, and we'd both learned long ago how important it was to seem tough. You needed to, growing up a place like Roxbury. We'd survived it together, and we'd always shared everything we had. Food, fights, women, it didn't matter.
But I wouldn't to be sharing this with him. Not yet, anyway. It was still too early—way too early—and I hadn't come to terms with the news yet myself. Dragging someone else into the situation would only confuse things further, which was the last thing I wanted.
It was too complicated.
And too precious.
Telling my lawyer had been difficult enough, reducing the whole host of conflicting emotions into two simple options. I could either ignore the two women who'd barged into my life today, or embrace the new relationship with them.
Or rather, the relationship with Ali, I corrected myself. I didn't want to think about Helena any more than I absolutely had to—there was too much temptation there, too much risk. The sexy, petite woman had already played far too large a role in my thoughts all day today. There was an intense allure about her, one that I needed to resist.
I'd heard of men becoming more attracted to their wives after they got pregnant, but this was just ridiculous. She was a stranger, and the pregnancy was long over. Something about her just seemed unnaturally appealing, though. She had a grace that transformed her from pretty to one of the most beautiful women I'd ever laid eyes on.
One of? I asked myself.
"Hellooooo?" Alton asked, his hand waving around inches in front of my face.
"Sorry. I'm a bit distracted tonight," I explained.
"You don't say," Alton said sarcastically. "You've hardly even touched your beer."
"Just not in the mood, I guess. Actually, I should probably head back home," I said, shrugging my shoulders apologetically before standing up.
Alton's expression made it clear that he was worried about me, but I knew that he wouldn't ask directly. That was for the best anyway—how could I explain that I'd suddenly inherited a family? He'd probably worry that it was all some elaborate scam for child support, but I knew that wasn't the case.
Even if the lawyer hadn't made it clear that I had nothing to worry about, I was convinced of Helena's sincerity. Nobody could've faked the relief she'd clearly felt when she caught up to Ali, or the shock on her face when she heard the news.
"I'm fine," I reassured my friend. "Just fighting off a headache, and some stuff on my mind."
Stuff. I almost laughed. That was certainly one way to say life altering news.
"Nothing major, I hope?" Alton asked.
"Nothing my lawyer can't handle," I said, hoping he didn't push any further. I didn't want to lie to my best friend, after all. Instead I changed the subject, nodding my head over towards the pool table. The two attractive women were still there, and the way they kept looking at us made it clear they had zero interest in their actual game.
"Oh yeah," Alton said with a renewed smile. "Now we're talking. So which do you want? The blonde or the redhead?"
"Blonde," I said automatically, a response that had nothing to do with the student and everything to do with a certain other blonde woman plaguing my thoughts.
Alton nodded, smoothing his hair out a bit and standing up. Clearly he'd fallen for the distraction, just as I would have a few short days ago.
And now I could go home in peace, without feeling bad about bailing. We approached the women together, starting the same song-and-dance that we always did in a place like this.
Both women were fans, as it turned out, and they quickly asked if we were who they thought we were. The four of us spent a few minutes talking, just to keep up appearances, a formality that normally would've been followed with a cab ride to a hotel. Sometimes there was even a proper date involved, if the woman seemed like she was worth seeing a second or even third time. No strings, just a few good nights of fun before parting ways.
Tonight, I really couldn't have cared any less. I just wanted to go home, but first I needed to play through the entire song and dance to avoid suspicion. The blonde woman handed me a scrap of paper with her number on it, which I accepted gracefully as always. After that, I promptly excused myself, apologizing for the headache before heading straight towards the exit.
I knew Alton wouldn't miss a beat. He'd be flirting with both women the moment I turned away. They would be scandalized, intrigued, and maybe they'd wake up tomorrow with one hell of a story.
It wouldn't be the first time. Certainly not the last, either.
I laughed. Stuff like that used to be my bread and butter, back in my old glory days of last week. Now, however, the entire thing just seemed kind of tedious and incredibly immature. The woman's number felt like a weight in my pocket, and I discreetly tossed it in the first trash can I found.
I was getting too old for this stuff.
Or maybe I was just finally growing up, I thought, memories of Ali flashing in my mind.