~ Aaron ~
Mid February ā Boston
āNext!ā
The booming voice of the harried Starbucks employee shakes me out of my zombie-like stupor. My body is protesting being awake this early, but I have a shift at the animal shelter in thirty minutes. Weāre beginning our six-week puppy obedience training workshop, and I oversee all of the shelterās training programs.Ā
All I really want to do is collapse in a warm bed with something soft and cuddlyāpreferably a woman and not Russell, my three-year old chocolate brown English Labrador.
God, I hate Mondays.
Sadly, the reason Iām dead on my feet has nothing to do with being up all night enjoying myself. I wasnāt exhausting myself hitting some hot piece, or getting into any other kind of trouble. I donāt even want to think about how long itās been since Iāve gotten laid, itās just too fucking depressing. My sex lifeāmy social lifeāhas been pretty pathetic lately. As in, I donāt have much of either.
I havenāt sought out any sort of relationship for nine months. Nine long months of self-imposed abstinence. Iād grown bored of meaningless relationships with woman who I only mildly tolerated. The truth is, I probably donāt deserve any woman who I would want to form a long-term and meaningful relationship with.
The real reason Iām a Walking Dead extra this morning is because I covered someone else's shift last night at The Pint, where I bartend. It has a pretty rough clientele. Pimps, drug dealers, and local bosses are all frequent patrons.
Why am I working there? I have a degree in Business Management from BC, for fuckās sake!
In this economy, a man with a past as rough as mine canāt be too proud when looking for a job. Iām lucky enough to be able to do what I love and work with the animals at the shelter. I usually spend my mornings there, and then I bring Russell back home to our studio apartment above The Pint for his afternoon nap.
Dealing with the more rowdy, disgusting animals at the bar in the afternoon and evening seems like a fair tradeoff. Not to mention, I make pretty decent tipsāmainly because the patrons know I keep my fucking trap shut. They reward me in a roundabout way for my discretion.
I was hired by Troy, the manager, under the barās legitimate business heading, and every two weeks, Iām given a paycheck, where I see my taxes and social security have eaten up all my hard work. I do my best to ignore the disreputable clientele, though. I keep my head down and do my job. Pouring drinks, filling bowls with pretzels, wiping down the bar, and decontaminating the johns.
Fuck, I hate my job!
Life never seems to go the way you imagine it will.
āHi, how are you today?ā asks the sweetest voice in front of me, pulling me from my depressing thoughts and waking me to my surroundings.
Iām standing in line at a small-overcrowded Starbucks with a dozen other Bostonians, waiting for my morning fix of caffeine. I usually go to the Dunkin Donuts across the street from my apartment, but this morning, for some reason, I felt like trying one of those ridiculously expensive, specially brewed coffees that my younger sister, Sarah, is always going on about.
āWhatās yaā ordaā?ā is the curt response from the haggard and clearly overworked employee.
āCould I please have a grande, no-whip mocha, with an extra pump of mocha? Thank you,ā the voice says pleasantly, undeterred by the cashierās borderline rudeness.
I smile. I love a woman who knows what she wants and isnāt afraid to ask for it. Flighty, air-headed, and indecisive woman drive me bat-shit crazy. I may like controlāmostly during sexābut itās sexy as hell when a woman knows what she wants, and that Iām the only one that can give it to her.
Especially, when it comes in such a sweet, polite package as the woman standing in front of me seemingly is. Sheās young, probably early twenties, and has a mass of light brown ringlets falling haphazardly down her back. My hand itches to reach out and touch one of her glossy curls. To see if they are as soft and springy as they look.
Quickly scanning her body from the back, I canāt make out much of her figure. Most of it is hiding underneath a long, black down jacket, and the wildly bright purple bag hanging off her shoulder. The sight of her black, slightly heeled boots peeking out from the bottom of her coat make me grin.
Sexy. Classy. Fucking hot.
The boots give her a little more height. My guess is that in bare feet, sheād come up slightly above my chin. Sheād fit perfectly in my arms. I shake my head, attempting to clear my daydream.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Hereās hoping this mystery woman has a double-bagger face, or else Iām fucked. Which would honestly make for a nice change.
āName?ā
āNina,ā answers the sweet, friendly voice.
āThatāll be three sixty-nine.ā
After Nina pays, by scanning the app on her phone, she says cheerfully, āHave a great day.ā
āNext!ā The barista says loudly, ignoring her friendliness once again.
As she moves off, I step forward and go through the motions of ordering. My thoughts, however, are on the woman standing by the counter across the room, currently waiting for her drink.
What is it about her?
After spending a small fortune for a grande specially brewed Clover coffee, I make my way through the crowd toward the counter to wait for my order. I soon find myself standing next to the mystery woman, Nina.
āGood morninā,ā she says, turning and flashing me the brightest, most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
Fuck! There goes the hope of her being fugly.
Itās not that her perfectly shaped mouth turns up, showing just the right amount of teeth, or that her green eyes sparkle and crinkle warmly. Itās the fact that her whole being seems to shine, like Iām staring at the sun, and itās momentarily stunning me. Itās like Iāve suddenly come out of some bizarre sexual hibernation. I can breathe again.
Fu-uck!
āHello,ā I answer brightly, maybe a little bit too brightly. Iāve probably come off sounding like an overeager puppy.
Midway through what Iāve been told is a nervous habit of mine, I realize Iām tucking my long hair behind my ears. I know Iām staring. Grinning like a manic, and probably frightening her, Iām looking at her like Iām suddenlyāawake.
Maybe for the first time in years.
I jump, when my cellphone begins vibrating in my pocket.
āExcuse me,ā I say, pulling it out and quickly glancing at several new text messages, coming in quick, annoyed secession.
Richard: Where r u asshole?
Richard: If ur dead, Iām going to kill u!
Richard: Donāt make me call Sarah!
The persistent texter is my best friend, Richard. We met in college nearly ten years ago, and our friendship has withstood some of the best and some of the worst moments in each otherās lives.
Iāve been out of contact with Richard for several weeks now, and Iām not even sure why. Aside from Sarah, my sister, heās one person who Iāve always been able to count on. He stuck with me when my life was going ass over tits. He may be my closest friend and confidant, but over the last year, Iāve been feeing lost and adrift. When I first got out of prison everything seemed to go back to normal, but now I feel disconnected from everything. Most of all, from myself.
āDo you like dogs?ā I find myself looking up from my phone and blurting out stupidly.
āDo you like dogs?ā
What the fuck?Ā
Where did that come from?
In my defense, the last woman I datedāand I use the term looselyāLisa. She didnāt get along with Russell, and he didnāt like her much, either. At first I had thought it was mutual jealousy, but really, my dog has better taste in women than his master. Lisa wasnāt a fan of kittens, or Bao Bao, the new adorable baby panda at the National Zoo, either.
Why did I ever fuck her?
āDoesnāt everyone?ā Nina asks, smiling and looking at me curiously.
āThey should,ā I reply, tucking my phone back into my pocket so I can give the woman in front of me my full attention. The annoyed messages donāt warrant an immediate response. Iād much rather soak up the sunshine in front of me.
āDo you have a dog?ā Nina asks curiously, no doubt wondering why I blurted out such an inane question to a complete stranger.
āYes.ā I reply simply, and she looks at me expectantly, as if sheās waiting for more. āRussell. Heās a chocolate English Lab.ā
āHow old is he?ā
āHeās three,ā I reply. Then, since she seems interested, I ask tentatively, āWould you like to see a picture?ā
āOf course,ā she says, smiling enthusiastically.
I dig out my phone and find several of the pictures Sarah had uploaded onto it. Picking the one where heās standing by Harry whoās in his playpen, laughing and patting Russell while being licked, I hand her the phone.
āIs that your son?ā she asks softly.
āMy nephew. Harry,ā I reply quickly. For some reason, I donāt want her thinking that Iām married, or have children.
āTheyāre both adorable. Totally photogenic. Iād love to shoot them,ā she smiles again. Then, realizing how what she said must have sounded, adds quickly, āIām a photographer.ā
After handing me back my phone, she lifts the camera up from where itās hanging around her neck, as if to prove her point.
I hadnāt noticed before that along with a purple knitted scarf, Nina also has an expensive-looking camera strapped around her neck. I briefly wonder if sheās one of the millions of tourists who visit the city each year.
āYou a tourist?ā I ask, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
āNope. You?ā
āNo, Sunshine,ā I say, grinning down at her. Iām staring again, unable to tear my eyes off of her face.
āA grande no-whip mocha with an extra pump of mocha, for Nina,ā comes a voice, breaking through our grinning-like-idiots-and-staring contest.
āThatās me. It was nice meeting you. Have a great day,ā she says sweetly.
āYeah, you too.ā I reply, as she turns to move through the crowd and collect her coffee, taking a bit of sunshine with her.
I canāt seem to keep my eyes off of her as she moves towards the counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a ferret-like little man approaching at the same time. He goes to reach for the only drink sitting on the counter.
āHey! What are you doing?ā I can hear her ask loudly, grabbing her cup.
āPicking up my order,ā he says slowly, acting like sheās an idiot.
āWell, I recommend you get in line, order something, and pay first. Thatās how it works. This one is mine,ā I hear her say tartly, standing her ground.
āExcuse me?ā he sputters, puffing his chest up indignantly.
āIs your name Nina?ā she asks angrily, pointing to the cup. āBecause thatās what it says right here!ā
āThe idiot cashier must have made a mistake,ā the asshole argues back.
An innate need to protect her comes over me, and I find myself making my way towards the two. Everyone else is oblivious to the interaction. They are all buried in their cellphones or staring at their shoes. This never happens at Dunkinās!
āI saw you walk in the door, and head right over to the counter,ā Nina replies.
āOh really?ā The asshole asks, stepping forward and getting into Ninaās face.
āYes,ā she says, attempting to step away from him.
Stepping between the two, I growl, āLeave.ā
The would-be coffee thief looks up at me, takes a step back, and then quickly scurries away. I watch him leave and then turn to stare down at Ninaās beautiful, stunned face.
āThank you for being a gentleman,ā she says, quickly recovering. Smiling brightly up at me, her eyes are soft withācomplete and utter trust. Shaking my head, I ignore how appealing she looks and forcibly push out the lustful thoughts that start creeping into my mind.
Laughing, I reply, āTrust me, Iām no gentleman. Far from it.ā
āOh, but I think you are,ā she says as a slight blush graces her cheeks. āI hadn't realized the stories Iāve read about people coming in and stealing drinks from customers that have paid were true.ā
āThe world is full of assholes, Sunshine,ā I reply sagely.
Wait, āSunshine?ā What the fuck? When did I suddenly start calling her that? It fits her perfectly though. She is sunshine incarnate.
āSomeday, heāll learn that karmaās a real witch.ā Nina says smiling, before adding sweetly, āThank you for proving that there are still some nice people in the world. As my Mom always says, āKind people are the best kind of people.āā Without giving me a chance to reply, she turns and quickly walks towards the exit, back out into the blowing cold and snow.
Iām suddenly warm all over.
It's time I start living again. I may never deserve sunshine the likes of Nina, but I donāt need to keep punishing myself, either. I need to follow through with my New Yearās resolution of āgetting my head out of my ass.ā
Iāve punished myself long enough.
I need to make some serious fucking changes in my life. Iām done putting my life on hold and living in limbo. If I'm being honest, for whatever reason, I haven't been motivated enough to make a change. That changed this morning. Sunshine came back in my life, if only for a moment, and I saw things clearly for the first time in months.
My parents, God rest them, are probably rolling over in their graves. I have a degree Iām not using, and a life Iām not living. Iām stuck in a rut that I need to crawl my way out of. I donāt want to be working for and cleaning up shit for people I donāt like or respect. What Iām lacking is a sense of direction, purpose.
God, whatās happened to me? Iām standing in the middle of a Starbucks having a mid-life crisis. Maybe not a crisis exactly, but a fucking epiphany.
Grabbing my surprisingly delicious coffee, I reach into my pocket again and dig out my phone. I suddenly know what I have to do.
I need to formulate a plan, but first I need to seek advice from the one person Iāve always been able to count on. Even if itās something I donāt want to hear. With his texts this morning, I know Richard isnāt holding my radio silence against me. I havenāt pushed him away, like I know Iāve done with people in the past. With a few taps on the screen, the phone is ringing in my ear.
āHey. No need to call my sister, Iām alive. Call me,ā I say, leaving a message.
I walk out into the cold feeling more alive, and warmer, than I had earlier.
* * *
I enter into a nearly-deserted Champions and quickly find Richard sitting at a far table, nursing a beer and picking at a pile of wings. Yesterday, we made arrangements to meet up tonight at his favorite sports bar.
āHey, Dicky!ā I call out loudly as I approach, knowing he hates that nickname.
āLong time no see, asshole.ā Richard says, laughing and standing up from his chair. He gives me a rough slap on my back, which I return heartily.
āIām surprised your wife let you out on a school night,ā I tease, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite him.
āBecca knows whoās in charge,ā he replies firmly, biting into a wing aggressively.
āYou may think that, but I know who really wears the pants,ā I laugh, reaching across and stealing one of his wings.
āHey! Get your own,ā he says, grabbing the plate and moving it out of my reach.
I grin as I swallow and then ask, āWhat are we drinking?ā
āNo idea, whatever was on tap,ā he says, looking at his glass with sudden interest.
āYou have no taste.ā
āAnd yet Iām friends with you,ā he quips back.
I breathe a sigh of relief and exhale the breath I didnāt know I was holding in. Just like that, I know our friendship hasnāt suffered during the weeks Iāve been ignoring him. It had nothing to do with him.
āIām sorry I've been out of touch, man,ā I say honestly. I never meant to shut out my closest friend. He is the one person, aside from Sarah, whoās never turned their back on me.
āDonāt worry about it. I knew you were just a phone call away.ā Richard isnāt the type of man who holds someoneās nature against them. He knows I wasnāt shutting him out personally. Rather, I was closeting myself from, well, myself.
āAlways,ā I say sincerely, just as the waitress comes over to take our order.
I ask for a cheeseburger sans the pickles, fries, and a Harpoon IPA to drink. Richard orders the same, except with the disgusting pickle, and mustard instead of ketchup.Ā
āWhatās going on, Aaron?ā Richard asks giving me a hard look, breaking the silence weād lapsed into.
āI need your advice. What do you think I should do?ā
āAbout what?ā Richard asks, clearly confused.
Before I can answer, the waitress delivers our beers and promises to return shortly with our burgers.
Taking a long sip of the cold beer, I collect myself before finally saying, āAbout life.ā And then I admit, for the first time out loud, āWhat do you think I should do? Iām fuckinā lost.ā
āHonestly?ā
āNo, I want you to lie to me.ā I say sarcastically.
āFirst of all, you need to distance yourself from The Pint,ā he states, his tone resolute. āIād start by moving out of that shit apartment, and quittinā your fuckinā job there.ā
āI wouldnāt be able to afford a decent place on my salary from just the shelter. Itās pretty much nonexistent,ā I reply coolly. Not all of us make bank managing the exclusive nightclub, St. Andrewās. They make a ton of money on the cover charge alone, not to mention the food and beverage sales. The club is only open Thursday through Saturday nights, and the rest of the time the restored church is used as a venue for other events, such as weddings. My sister and brother-in-law, Bennett, had their reception there when they got married, over three years ago.
āYou asked for my opinion, so Iām going to tell you. If I were you, Iād get as far away from that element as possible. Do you want to end up back inside?ā he asks harshly.
āOf course not,ā I snap.
āThen Iād move in with Sarah while I looked for something permanent. You know your sister would take you in,ā Richard says rationally.
āI donāt know. I donāt want to impose on her family again. It was fine when I lived there after getting out, before Harry came along, but itās her home now, not mine.ā
āWhat do you think you should do?ā he asks, turning it back to me.
āI donāt know. Thatās why I asked you,ā I say exasperatedly, as the food is delivered to our table.
Just as Iām about to pick up and take a bite of the delicious-looking burger, my phone buzzes. I quickly dig it out of my pocket and glance down at the screen.
Fuck!
Itās a message from The Pintās manager, Troy, proving Richard correct. I need to distance myself from anything to do with the bar and its patrons.
Troy: A package will be delivered 2morrow night, put it in the safe.
Ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I shove the phone back into my pocket and focus on my meal. Thereās silence as we both enjoy our burgers.
āIām sure I could find you some hours at the club, until you find something else. Weāre always looking for decent bartenders who donāt take any bullshit,ā Richard offers in between bites.
āThanks, Iāll think about it,ā I say, and then seeing his hardened look I add seriously, āI promise, I will. Youāre right.ā
In the past, Iāve been hesitant to accept a bartending job at the club for two reasons. One being, they are only open three nights a week, and I need more hours than that, and the second reason is my own foolish pride. It could easily be me running the place, not Richard. Watching him manage the place would be a slap in the face, showing me all my mistakes.
After swallowing his bite Richard says, āYouāve been out four years. Itās time you leave it behind you. Stop punishing yourself, man.ā
āI know.ā I take a sip of my beer, swallowing the lump in my throat. I turn back to my burger, and after taking another bite, ask, āSo, whatās been going on? Howās Rebecca?ā
Rebecca, Becca, is the woman he married three years ago. Richard and I met her at the club back in the day. Iāve always liked her, and itās an unspoken rule that we never mention that she and I briefly hooked up before they got together. The sex was fine, but we never really connected on a deeper level. Iād just been released at the time too, and was in no place to begin a long-term relationshipāsomething I know she was looking for.
Afterwards, I could tell Richard was interested in her, and I told him he should go for it, and he did. Not one to mess around, he claimed her as his woman right away. I was thrilled for my friends. They are perfect for one another, and have exactly what they need in each other. By all accounts it was a whirlwind relationship, and it didnāt take long for them to get engaged.
I was the lucky bastard who got to be Richardās best man, which meant I planned the bachelor party. It wasnāt up to The Hangover standards, though. We didnāt hit Vegas, and luckily, no one got arrested. But it was an epic sendoff into matrimony in its own right. I was the designated brain, meaning I was stone cold sober the entire time. That doesnāt mean I didnāt have a great time, taking photos and laughing at my friendsā expenses. I was on parole, so being sober was the best option at the time. I steered them away from any real trouble, but not before a lap dance or two. I still have several blackmail photos safely tucked away.
Itās funny how you donāt realize how much youāve missed someoneās company until you see them again. Richard is a great friend. I shouldāve never shut him out like I did. Luckily for me, heās a forgiving bastard.
āWeāve actually been trying to get pregnant,ā he answers me, smiling brightly.
āThatās great, man.ā I know how much he wants to have a family. In a lot of ways, Richard and I are no different in what we want out of life. Heās just more on target to achieve it. Youād think I would be jealous, but I can honestly say that Iām not. I am truly fucking happy for him. At least one of us is getting our heartās dream.
Your heartās dream is that thing you wonāt ever allow yourself to admit to truly wanting. You donāt believe youāll ever get it, and admitting that itās your deepest desire only makes the loss of your dream hurt more. So you pretend that itās nothing you wanted to begin with. That way, you never have to feel the pain of not being granted your heartās dream.
Finding an amazing woman, getting married and starting a family is my heartās dream.Ā
āIām exhausted. Every time I turn around, she wants to have sex,ā he complains before biting into his burger ravenously. Clearly, heās been working up quite the appetite.
āDude, youāre living the dream! We could all be so lucky.ā I grin at him.
āJust wait ātil you meet some nice little woman, and the next thing you know, youāre married and exhausted from having to perform,ā he says, waving a fry in my face.
āI donāt think Iām that lucky. Iām not settling for just anyone,ā I reply firmly. After meeting Sunshine yesterday, whether I deserve a woman like that or not, thereās no way Iād settle for anything less.
āI didnāt. And neither should you,ā he says seriously.
āAt least when it comes to women, I now know what I want. So thatās something,ā I say, smiling.
āWhat do you mean?ā Richard asks curiously, picking at his fries.
Leaning across the table, I say softly, āI need a woman who trusts me completely, one I can give myself entirely to. Someone I can be myself with, and who wants the same things out of life. A family.ā
Iām not sure whyāthe pub is nearly deserted this earlyābut I feel the need to keep the conversation private. Probably because Iām exposing what's been hidden in my heart for a long while, but would never even allow myself to acknowledge.
āI sound like a fuckinā woman. I think I need another drink.ā I say, leaning back in my chair, rubbing my face and then tucking my hair behind my ears.
Richard simply gives me a knowing smile, and doesn't say anything. What else is there left for him to say?
āI donāt want to hookup anymore. Well, I doāyou know what I mean.ā I laugh as Richard chuckles along with me.
āIf you want to meet women, then you should come to the Valentineās Day Date auction at the club,ā he says casually.
āI donāt know if Iām readyāāĀ
āItād be good chance for you to catch up with everyone, and meet some single women, maybe go on a date with one,ā he interrupts enthusiastically.
I canāt help but laugh at his enthusiasm for my potential sex life. āI donāt know.ā
āItās for a good cause,ā he reminds me, draining the last of his beer.
āIāll think about it,ā I say honestly.
āGood, Iāll make sure youāre on the approved bidders list,ā he says excitedly.
āI didnāt say Iād buy a date. Iāll just go and catch up with everyone,ā I caution him. Iām ready to start my life again, but Iām not sure Iām quite ready to step back into the dating world. Or that I even have the energy to find the right woman. Someone who is sweet, kind, knows what she wants, and gorgeous. Sunshine.
āFine. But just in case, Iāll make sure youāre on the list,ā he replies, not put off in the least by my answer. I have a feeling heās stuck on the idea of me dating again.
āWeāll see,ā I reply.
āGreat. I almost forgot to tell youāBecca has this new friend you should meet, man. I think youād really hit it off, and sheās the sweetest little thing,ā he says animatedly, smiling at me encouragingly. Richard has found his happilyāeverāafter, and is determined that everyone else should as well.
āWeāll see,ā I say again, noncommittally.Ā
āAt least come and hang out. You havenāt been out in ages,ā he encourages.
āFine. I can do that, but youāre paying my cover charge,ā I reply, and his laughter tells me that I wonāt have to break the bank just to attend the auction.
Not that I blame him, but I really donāt want him trying to set me up. Even if I know itās done out of the goodness of that fucking romantic heart of his.Ā
Itās why he started the Valentineās Day Date auctionāas a chance for singles to meet and raise money for charity. Maybe I should go to that auction on Thursday night. Who knows, I might just find a woman Iām interested in. Itās for a good cause, after all.
Food, drinks and women.
Really, what more could a single guy ask for on Valentineās Day?