Ten
ten
THE CROSSROADS - BONE THUGS-N-HARMONY
OWEN - MAY 18, 2013
T he morning after my turnout party, sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. I stretch, the dull throb of a slight hangover reminding me of last night’s celebration. It’s a small price to pay for the overwhelming sense of accomplishment and the camaraderie that filled the air.
I shuffle to the kitchen, making a cup of my favorite coffee from BB Coffee Co., letting the rich aroma wake me up as I settle at the table. As the hot liquid slides down my throat, I scroll through my phone, catching up on the flood of messages from friends and family congratulating me on completing my apprenticeship.
I shoot off a quick text to Mom, letting her know I’ll come get Barrett in about an hour, giving him some extra playtime before we meet for lunch. I take another sip of coffee, savoring the quiet before the day starts. Then, my phone buzzes with a message from the group chat.
Luke:
Hey, fuckers! Sorry I had to bail out before you could buy me breakfast. Got called to an outage in Davenport around 7:30 this morning. They had some pretty rough storms last night so it’s all hands on deck.
Me:
I’m shocked you were able to get up this morning. Were you even sober when you woke up?
Will:
Your dumbass better not have gotten on that motorcycle still drunk.
Luke:
Chill out, Daddy Dearest. Gotta make that money!
Vince:
PREACH! Wish I could’ve been there last night, but kids aren’t cheap, and I can’t pass up doubles. Sorry I missed it, Owen.
Luke:
And, for the record, I was good to go after I downed some water and ibuprofen before I took off. Sooo, Owen… what about Heather? Are you going to text her or what?
Will:
For fuck’s sake, Luke. Leave the man alone.
Luke:
Fuck you, Will.
Vince:
Wait! Who’s Heather?!
Luke:
A fucking dime piece that slipped Owen her number at the bar last night.
Me:
Luke, don’t you dare text her. I know how you are with numbers and I guarantee no matter how drunk you were last night, you remember the phone number on that fucking napkin.
Vince:
Haha! Called you out man!
Luke:
Maybe… Does that mean that you’re going to text her?
I groan, shaking my head with a smile. Luke can’t help himself. He lives for this kind of teasing.
Me:
I’ll think about it... But she didn’t give you her phone number. So don’t be a douche canoe.
Will:
He’s already a fucking douche canoe.
Luke:
Again, fuck you, Will!
Luke’s text is quickly followed by him sending a series of middle finger emojis in Will’s direction.
Luke:
And fine, I won’t text her until she gives ME her number. KIDDING. Just don’t overthink it. Life’s too short, man.
I stick my phone in my pocket only to have it buzz again a moment later. I reopen the group chat to see Luke has sent a GIF of Rob Schneider from The Waterboy popping up on my screen, his iconic “You can do it!” on repeat.
I roll my eyes before typing out a reply.
Me:
Wow, Luke, truly inspirational. Now, I’m ready to take on the world.
Just as I hit send, there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find Will, grinning like an idiot, holding a bag of takeout from Cedar Bend Bistro.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says, lifting the bag in greeting. “Thought you could use some hangover food, so I grabbed you a breakfast burrito.”
I laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “You know, if you keep bringing me breakfast, I might not have to start dating again.”
He chuckles, setting the bag down. “Wouldn’t want to deprive you of that, but I can’t have my best friend starving. Plus, who else would listen to my dating disasters?”
We sit down at the table, the aroma of fresh food filling the room. The burrito is exactly what I need, hearty and comforting. Will’s presence is steady, the kind of support you don’t always realize you need until it’s right in front of you.
“So,” he says, biting into his burrito, “what’s the plan for today?”
I shrug, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Not much. I’m picking up Barrett from Mom’s soon, maybe taking him to a movie or something later.”
“Ah yes, the thrilling life of a single dad,” Will says with mock sympathy. “I bet the laundry and dishes are just begging for your attention.”
I smirk. “You know it. I’ve got a hot date with the vacuum cleaner.”
Will snorts, nearly choking on his coffee. “Call me if it gets too wild. I’ll bring reinforcements—maybe a mop and some disinfectant. ”
“Don’t forget the French maid costume,” I joke, rolling my eyes.
He grins, leaning back in his chair. “Speaking of hot dates, did you ever decide what to do with Heather’s number?”
I glance at the napkin still on the table, feeling the weight of his question. “I’m on the fence about it.”
Will raises an eyebrow, smirking. “On the fence? Dude, you’ve got nothing to lose. Worst case, she doesn’t respond. Best case? You have a good time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, waving him off. “I know. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s been a while.”
“Exactly why you should do it,” he says, pointing at me with his burrito. “You can’t spend your nights romancing your vacuum cleaner forever.”
I laugh, feeling the tension ease a little. “Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But if it crashes and burns, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal,” he says, clinking his coffee cup against mine. “Now let’s finish this before it gets cold.”
We eat and swap stories, mostly about Will’s disastrous dating life, which doesn’t exactly ease my hesitation about jumping back into the scene. The conversation flows easily and comfortably. Eventually, he glances at his watch.
“I should get going,” he says, standing up. “Got a few errands to run before the day slips away.”
“Thanks for breakfast,” I say, walking him to the door.
“No problem. Take it easy, alright?” He gives me a quick, one-armed bro hug before heading out.
I sit back down on the sofa, eyes drifting to the napkin with Heather’s number. Luke won’t let me live it down if I don’t at least try. Screw it. I pick up my phone and type out a message.
Me:
Hey, Heather. It’s Owen. Just wanted to say thanks for putting up with us last night. Want to grab coffee sometime?
I hit send before I can overthink it, trying to brush off the nerves bubbling under the surface. It’s just a text, right? No big deal. I distract myself by tidying the living room, but my phone buzzes only a few minutes later. My heart jumps.
Heather:
Hi, Owen! It was great meeting you last night. I’d love to get together sometime but I actually don’t drink coffee. Maybe we could go see a movie sometime?
I stare at the message, thrown. Who doesn’t drink coffee? And a movie for a first date? Isn’t that a little… impersonal? How are we supposed to get to know each other sitting in the dark?
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe it’s not a big deal. With a resigned breath, I pick up the phone again.
Me:
A movie sounds good too. Maybe we could grab a bite to eat before or after? Also, I have to say, I’m not sure I can trust someone who doesn’t drink coffee.
Trying to keep busy while I wait for her response, I flip through the channels, but nothing holds my attention. Eventually, I settle on organizing some old photos on my laptop to pass the time.
My phone buzzes again.
Heather:
Haha, fair enough! I guess you’ll have to get to know me and find out if I’m trustworthy. Dinner before the movie sounds perfect! How about Friday evening?
A smile tugs at my lips. At least she has a sense of humor.
Me:
Sounds like a plan. I can come pick you up after I drop my son off with his mom on Friday before dinner.
Heather:
Great! Your son is the little boy that was at the party last night, right? He’s adorable. Just like his Dad.
I chuckle, shaking my head. This might actually be fun. Although, I don’t think I’ve been called adorable in nearly three decades.
Me:
Haha! Thanks. I’ll pick you up around 7.
Heather:
Sounds good. I live in the apartment above the bar so I’ll just meet you downstairs.
Me:
It’s a date.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur, and I walk downstairs to Mom’s to pick up Barrett. The weather’s too nice for a movie, so we hit the park instead. As I tuck Barrett into bed later that night, his sleepy eyes looking up at me with trust and love, I make a silent promise to him—and to myself.
No matter what happens, I’ll always be the best dad I can be. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure out how to be happy again.