4. MAX

Chapter four

MAX

A s I cruised down the long suburban streets on my motorbike, the warm breeze fluttered in my face. But I felt happy. Eddie had always made me feel happy all those years ago.

He had looked good and seemed in a good place, despite everything that was going on for him and his family. Despite my admiration for him, or perhaps because of it, I had felt a twinge of doubt that he wouldn't want to see the likes of me again. But he hadn't turned me away. He had seemed pleased to see me.

Now, as I rode through the quiet streets, I was feeling happy that we might have a chance for us to reconnect, to try to capture that happiness and friendship that had existed between us back then.

I didn't really have that with a lot of people: not with buddies in bars, not with guys I talk motorbikes with, and sadly, not with the many, many women I have dated. Nothing ever really stuck with me.

My parole officer, after I left prison, once told me that my problem was that I didn't know how to trust anyone. "Was there ever anyone you trusted?" she had asked. There was always one answer: "Eddie."

So I guessed that that was why it was important to me that Eddie was back. He had been the person I had let myself trust. That was why it mattered that he was back, but of course, he was not back for good.

That thought lingered in my head for a moment, and I found it unsettling. I didn't expect anything from him, not at all, but it would be nice to be in touch again, to have that connection again to that one person you didn't question, that one person upon whom you had been able to rely.

I felt like I had withdrawn from much of life in the last years, that I was existing pleasantly enough, but that was all I was doing, like some prehistoric insect caught in a piece of ancient amber.

Did I want the amber to crack and the insect to flutter back into life? Maybe I did.

And as I turned onto my street, I could feel the heat of the day reaching its peak, now that summer was properly here, that sticky, heavy feeling just before the light starts to recede. I wondered if I had enough time to do a bit more work on the motorbike, without having to set up any additional lights before evening fell.

As I pulled into my driveway and parked my bike, I got a text from an old friend named Jake.

Hey man, how u doing

Me and Tony are in the bar at the end of your street

Free for a beer or 5???? Lol

Actually, I was feeling a bit buzzed already from the adrenaline of that day, and I thought it would be nice to head off and low-key party.

Sure man

Actually getting home now

Will be down in 10

Jake texted me back.

Bit late for the walk of shame dude!!!

But you never change lol

I smiled.

I wish, man, nothing like that

***

As I entered the dimly lit bar, the stale scent of the place hit me, and strains of that generic kind of rock that plays in these places filled the air. But it was bustling, with patrons hanging around the bar or huddled together at tables, voices and music blending into a low hum of noise.

I spotted my two buddies, Jake and Tony, seated at a table near the back of the bar. Jake was a beefy guy with a bushy beard and tattoos on his arms, his rugged appearance either at odds or augmented by his friendly and easygoing nature, depending on how you saw it.

Tony, on the other hand, was a wiry guy with a mop of unruly hair and a perpetual grin plastered over his face, somewhere between good-time banter and step-too-far sarcasm. Tony was always that guy who you half liked to see, half felt on edge around.

I wasn't sure when I had seen them last: Jake a few months maybe, but Tony much longer, years probably. He was a local character, but one you kind of tried to avoid.

As I approached their table, they both looked up and yelled my name. " Maxxy !"

Jake got to his feet and bear-hugged me.

"Max, buddy, you made it!" he exclaimed, clapping me on the back as he held me to him. We broke free, and I extended a handshake to Tony.

"Hey, Max, long time no see!" he chimed in, flashing me a toothy grin as I sat down. "How you doing, man?"

I shrugged and grinned.

"Oh, you know, I'm doing ."

He laughed.

"Cruising along."

"Kinda."

He pointed to his own beer.

"You ready to knock back a few?"

I grinned in response and held my hand up to attract the waitress. I knew Kathleen well, and she winked at me the minute I lifted my fingers, understanding that I would have the same as my friends.

A game blared from the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and faces around the bar watched it, either closely or idly. Tonight was the New England Patriots and the Dallas Cowboys. Neither were local teams, so there would be no metaphorical blood on the floor tonight, but it was big enough to draw people's attention.

Kathleen came over with my beer.

"How ya doing, Max?"

She had this great twinkling smile.

"Good, Kath. Good."

She lay down the beer. Seated together at a table near the center of the bar, Jake, Tony, and I leaned in, our eyes glancing up at the screen.

As the game unfolded, we lost ourselves half in the rhythm of what was going on on the screen and half in our catch-up conversation, our voices mingling with the noise of the crowd.

Jake was telling me how his kids were doing. He had three by three different women but seemed to be a good dad nonetheless, keeping four households, including his own, going through his successful contracting business. Tony did some kind of accountancy, which you would never know by looking at or hearing him.

I told them about the Yamaha I had acquired and was working on, and we talked a bit about motorbikes we'd had or would like to have. Jake asked me how much I wanted for the Yamaha, and when I told him, he drew breath in sharply through his teeth.

"Hey, guys, did you hear about Megan Smith?" I asked when the conversation ran dry a little.

Jake nodded.

"Yeah, heard she passed away. Such a shame. She was a cute girl back in the day."

I shrugged because there wasn't much else to say.

"I went over to the house to pay my respects. Met her brother, Eddie."

Tony looked confused.

"Which brother? I didn't know she had a brother."

"Eddie," I said. "I went to high school with him. He's a big lawyer in New York."

Each of them struggled to remember.

"Oh, the gay one?" Tony exclaimed.

I took a sip of my beer.

"I don't think he's gay. At least he never said he was."

Tony snickered. He was one of those guys who liked an insinuation, especially a malicious one. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "I went over there to offer my condolences."

"Sure, sure," Tony drawled. "You were always close in school, right? Go over there… and get a BJ, maybe."

"Come on," Jake said, "cut it out. Eddie's just his friend. They were tight back in the day, that's all. Who even cares if the guy is gay?"

Tony raised his hands.

"I ain't homophobic, man. Those gay guys, they're supposed to give the best BJs, so sign me up. I could do with having my cock sucked right about now."

Jake blew through his teeth.

"Don't look at me, Tony."

I brushed it off with a laugh, knowing that guys like Tony were watching you, waiting for you to say the wrong thing.

"Man, his sister died" was all I said. "Ease it up a bit."

I couldn't care less anyway. I loved my old friend and would be happy for him if he was happy. Eddie could be as gay as Christmas in San Francisco for all I cared. Eddie was Eddie, my best friend from my past, and nothing would alter that.

I was a straight guy, but a straight guy who had been to jail. Men like me, we know what goes on. During my two years behind bars, I faced the harsh realities of prison life. It was a rough and brutal environment.

But prison is also all about sex. Sometimes, it's darker than that. Things happen. But people want connection too. Nowhere is as lonely as prison.

Tony wasn't giving up too easily on his game, though.

"Maxxy, did you charm him like you do with all the ladies?" I shook my head and lifted my bottle of beer to my lips. "Does Eddie know you're the king of one-night stands?"

"Fuck you, man," I said, but still acting like we were playing around.

Now Jake was warming up to the game.

"Yeah, you gonna get his number and then ghost him like you do all those girls you've dated?"

My good humor was being stretched thin.

"Fuck you, man," I said, less jokily this time. "I'm a changed man now!"

They both laughed and then said at the same time: "Sure you are!"

The Cowboys scored, and half the bar erupted into cheers, and half sucked the air in mild disappointment. I glanced at the screen but found myself indifferent to the game.

A lot of what they said was actually true. I have never really made relationships with work. I have dated hundreds of women, met them on apps, picked them up in bars, brief relationships that went nowhere. Even my marriage was really clearly a mistake from almost the first moment.

I didn't even remember the last time I went up to a woman in a bar and asked for her number, let alone asked to take her home.

Like in those prison days, everyone on Tinder is acting tough, but really, they're looking for a connection, but I at least never seemed to find it. But then I always let things go with them, and now I was thirty-two. How much longer did I go on, running from something deeper?

I sat there with Jake and Tony, who most people would call good guys. I heard their summations of me and their crude jokes about Eddie. I thought of their lack of respect for what he had achieved in New York, and then a strange little thought appeared in my head. It popped like a bubble.

I didn't want this anymore.

This life, this city, these people, these conversations: I didn't want them anymore.