Blake repositions and takes his shot, sinking the ball. “Get ready to lose your Benjamin Franklin then.”
“Dream on, buddy,” I say with false optimism.
Shit, I fear he may be right with the way he is playing tonight. But I’m not about to let him have the psychological advantage this early on.
The games continue, and sure enough, Blake ends up beating me convincingly. Scotty takes on Blake next while I play against Parker. Blake quickly wipes out Scotty’s bravado before finally cleaning up all the bets as he beats Tim too.
Walking back to the bar, I complain loudly, “We need to find a new game as this is getting old real fast with Blake taking our money again.”
Blake puts his arm around my shoulders as he says, “Come on, man, no need to cry in your beer. You can take my money, but first, you need to practice and learn to play pool better.”
“You’re such a gracious fucking winner, aren’t you,” Parker moans.
Blake roars with laughter. “And you guys are poor losers. I’ll buy the next round just so I don’t have to put up with anymore whining.”
Scotty steps up to the bar to order before Blake can open his mouth. “Five double scotches on the rocks, and my generous friend here will pay,” he tells the bartender. We're all laughing now.
We move to stand around a nearby bar table with our fresh round of drinks, compliments of Blake, and raise our glasses to our missing friends. The mood turns serious when we toast our lost friends. These nights are important to each of us in different ways and for different reasons. However, we all agree on one thing, the most important reason for us to get together is to remember our fallen friends.
For me, these nights with my friends keep me sane and grounded. They have been in the past and continue to be an important part of my recovery.
Restless after returning home from the bar, I stand at the large windows in the living room of my ninth floor apartment, staring out at the city lights.
It turned out to be a good thing seeing the guys tonight, as in a weird way, it straightened my head out.
I know I’m kind of broken inside and spending time with the guys makes me feel whole again. Normal.
As I continue to stare out the window, I contemplate my next move with Cassie. I think about the choices and decisions I’ve made. Some good, some bad. I need to be looking at how to move forward and improve rather than beating myself up over the bad decisions. No more regrets is my new mantra. I guess I did take something away from all those years of therapy.
I’ve been wanting to contact Cassie all day to make sure she’s okay after last night. But I’ve been too fucking scared to put my thoughts into action and take a second chance.
Fuck it, I pick up my cell and fire off a text without any further delays.
Luke:Hey, Cass, I’ve been thinking about you all day. I wanted to give you time and space, but I need to know if you are okay.
Still looking down at my cell after hitting send, my screen within seconds displays the three bouncing dots of a reply coming through. This is promising.
Cassie:I’m okay, and thanks for asking. Sorry I rushed off last night. I should have stayed. It was all a bit much.
Luke:Yep, I get it. I did dump a lot on you. I’m not so good with words, but I’m trying to be better. I’m glad you gave me the chance to say I was sorry for how I treated you. Thank you for listening.
Cassie: It helped to know why.
A few minutes pass, and I don’t want to leave it like this.
Luke: Hey, I feel like we dived straight into the heavy stuff last night and I didn’t cover any of the basics with you.
Cassie:Should we have talked about the weather?
Luke:Lol. No, things like how long have you been in Manhattan, what are you doing, where are you living, are you seeing anyone? Those kinds of basics.
Guess I’m not fooling her by throwing in my last question, but I need to know if she is single.
Cassie:10 weeks, project manager at a financial investment company, The Village, no.
Luke: Whoa, that’s a lot to take in. All up to date now.
And pretty fucking happy too, knowing there is no other guy on the scene.
