8. MAX

Chapter eight

MAX

A s I prepared for the evening, I took extra care with my appearance. I didn't want Eddie to think I was just some rough nobody.

After showering and toweling off, I stood before the mirror, running a hand through my unruly mop of curls, trying as always to get it to look vaguely neat. I applied a dollop of gel, working it through my hair. It quickly ran back in neat waves.

Next, I reached for some cologne, which had hints of cedar. With a few dabs to my neck and collarbone, I felt a touch more refined, like a man who knew how to put himself together, than some grease monkey trying to shower off the worst of the muck…

I dressed in a clean shirt and a pair of dark jeans. I wanted to strike the right balance, to show that I cared enough to make an effort, but not so much that I seemed out of my depth. I didn't want to look like a guy who spent his days covered in motorbike oil.

As I glanced at my reflection one last time, I noticed the strands of iron-grey running through my hair, the very faint crow's feet around my eyes, more visible when I smiled. Man, I was getting older. I might still look okay, but you couldn't deny that.

But then again, I guess we're all getting older all the time.

***

The place where we met couldn't have been more different from the one where I met Jake and Tony. It was air-con cool, and the space was filled with light from high windows and skylights in the ceiling. There was no TV, no music, just bright conversation from smart people reverberating off the walls, punctuated by bursts of laughter from mixed groups. Everyone was dressed both casually and neatly, so I was glad I'd made some effort.

The bar itself stretched along one side of the room, its polished surface gleaming under the early summer evening light. Behind it, rows of bottles stood on shelves, illuminated by discreetly positioned LEDS, casting the same colors as the bottles and labels.

Mirrors adorned painted brick walls, creating a sense of style and space. A jukebox stood in one corner, its flashing lights more part of the decor than any invitation to play music. No one paid it any attention.

I scanned the room, along the rows of tables and benches, across a sea of strangers. These people here – professional, middle class – were not my usual crowd. I felt a little nervous, in fact, some apprehension at being the wrong person in the wrong place.

And then there he was, Eddie, sitting in a cozy booth on the far side of the bar. He was not looking at his phone. He was sitting there, very poised, waiting for me. He raised his hand.

As I approached, he started to smile and get to his feet. I could see he didn't have a drink yet.

"Hey, Max, good to see you," he said, offering his hand for a handshake as I waved him to sit back down. Our fingers connected only briefly.

"I'm doing alright, thanks. Just taking it one day at a time, you know?" I replied, briefly taking his hand and then sitting down opposite him. "How about you? How's everything going with sorting everything out?"

Before he had a chance to respond, a female voice was at my side.

"Hey, Max, how are you doing? Long time," the waitress said. I looked at her but couldn't remember her name. Was it Maura or Macy? We had been on a couple of dates years before, had never had sex. It was one of those awkward situations where neither of us probably wanted to acknowledge our prior interaction and so we were exchanging pleasantries as if we were old friends, when we were not.

"Hey there, I'm good, thanks," I replied, offering a friendly grin.

"Maura," she said as if she could read my mind.

"I know!" I laughed, although I hadn't been sure. "Yeah, it's been a while," I continued. She looked like she couldn't be less interested.

"What can I get you both?"

As she took our drink orders, Eddie and I sat there in that silence where you wait patiently for the waiter to write down what you want and go. She did presently.

"Anyway, how are you doing?" I asked, turning fully back to Eddie.

His response was laced with sadness.

"It's been strange," he began. "One moment she's here, and the next… gone." His voice trailed off.

"It's so incredibly sudden," I said. "Like, when my mom died, yours too, you at least knew it was coming. But a car crash, man."

"Yeah," he said. "It's just over."

I sighed long and slow.

"So frightening."

"But don't you ever get into close scrapes on your motorbike?" he asked.

"Sure," I said. "But you know, you put the risk out of your head."

Eddie nodded.

"And then there's Jared," he said. He laughed bleakly. "What the hell do I know about raising a fifteen-year-old?"

"You did used to be a fifteen-year-old," I joked. "Maybe that's the best way to look at it, you know, to see things through how he saw it."

"Maybe."

"I lost my mom when I was a bit younger than him. On the one hand, I think immediately you are protected from grief in a way you aren't when you are older. You are a kid. Kids think about themselves all the time. What I needed was the sense that someone was looking after me and then that things were stable now."

"Did you get those things?" he asked.

"Wow," I said. "We are going in deep fast." He nodded. "No, no, I didn't, not really until I lived with you and your mom, and then…"

"You went to live with your grandmother after that."

"Yeah."

"She was a tough old bird."

I laughed.

"She was. I could have lived with someone who was less of one. That's what Jared needs now. He needs to feel that someone is on his side, someone will look after him and give him a bit of space."

He thought about this.

"I never expected to be in this position, you know?" He stopped a moment and cleared his throat. "Anyhow, tell me how the years have been to you."

Eddie's attempt to shift the conversation to me caught me off guard, and for a moment, I felt a pang of shame wash over me. Was I gonna tell him everything? Maybe he already knew it all. People in small places like ours like to talk. Our city is not the smallest place, but it's covered in webs of gossip.

I sighed.

"Well, after you left," I began slowly, "things didn't exactly go smoothly for me."

"I heard you were in jail a short time," he said.

I looked at him. He had known.

"Two years."

I wasn't sure if I was relieved I didn't have to tell him myself or embarrassed that he knew about it all along.

" Two years ? I didn't know that."

I shrugged.

"No reason why you should, man. I got mixed up with drugs, you know?" I admitted, my gaze dropping momentarily. "And one thing led to another, and I ended up involved in a burglary."

The admission hung heavy in the air between us.

"What happened?"

"I got caught, obviously," I said with what I meant to be an ironic laugh but probably came out sarcastic. "Two years in jail is no joke."

The memories of my time behind bars resurfaced, the violence, the fear, the choices you are forced to make. "It was rough, you know?" I confessed, my voice growing quieter. "But I guess I had it coming. I accept what I did was wrong. I've got zero excuses, I accept the judgment, but you know, prison ruins your life. You ain't getting a sweet job in a bank after doing time for burglary."

Eddie's big blue eyes stayed on me the whole time, kindly, softly.

"How long were you married?"

I shook my head.

"Not long."

"You aren't seeing anyone now?" he asked. I shook my head again but more emphatically now. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you are a very handsome guy, Max. I mean, the women must be all over you."

"Come on, man," I laughed, shaking my head as if to brush off his compliments. "I'm not all that."

"No, seriously," he insisted. "You've always had this… mystique, you know? Something about you that draws people in."

I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks at his words, a mixture of bashfulness and disbelief swirling within me.

"Mystique, huh?" I echoed, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. "I never really thought anything like that. I mean, I know I look a certain way, I guess." I suddenly felt really awkward.

I know how people see me: tall, handsome, masculine, easygoing. But sometimes people only see you as that. Plus, as soon as people find out about my history, that's a big turn-off; or at least, they might want to take you home but not anything more. "I'm not exactly a catch, you know?"

"What?" he asked.

"Prison," I said, and then he understood. We moved back on to my ex-wife.

"It was tough, you know?" I admitted to Eddie. "Coming out of prison, trying to piece my life back together… I thought maybe she could be the one to help me do that. But as time went on, it became clear that she didn't want to get off drugs," I confessed. "I don't wanna badmouth her in any way. I am sure I wasn't the easiest person back then, either. It just didn't work out. We wanted different lives."

"Where is she now, Max?"

"California, last I heard. Maybe she found her way out, or maybe she's still lost in that world…"

"What world?" he asked, and it struck me as innocent.

"Drugs."

He nodded.

"Like you did?"

I wanted to be clear with him.

"I am off drugs, like, eight years now. It's not part of my life at all anymore." He smiled hazily. I wanted to change the subject. "But look at you. You got out, man," I said, my voice tinged with admiration. "You did it . Meanwhile, I'm stuck living in my grandma's house, feeling like such a loser."

"No, man, don't say that," Eddie interjected, his voice filled with empathy. "You're cool, you're free. No one's life is perfect. That's just social media bullshit. You ride your bike, you live your life on your own terms."

"Your life seems pretty sweet," I said, and he smiled.

"It's okay. I'm doing okay."

I wouldn't have it.

"Man, you're doing more than okay. You're doing amazing. I admire it so much about you, Eddie. You got out and made a hell of a life for yourself."

He smiled again, this time a bit more vulnerably.

"Thanks, Max, I appreciate you saying it."

His eyes were sparkling, looking at me. I gazed into them for a moment but then felt the need to break his gaze.

"Where are these drinks?" I asked, laughing, and as I said it, Maura appeared with the tray.