"You seem a little uptight tonight, Jack," Bryce said while on his way back to the table. "You don't happen to have an extra cue up your ass, do you?"
Jack stared him down. "I don't stick things up my ass. That's more Parker's specialty."
I breathed deep and waited for the burning feeling in my belly to pass. Bryce also seemed annoyed by the comment. His face was reddening, and I could see him biting the inside of his mouth. He sunk two balls that turn, before missing a third. I tried another attempt at civilized conversation. "Are you married, Jack?"
He chose not to respond to me. Bryce called him on it. "Dude, Parker asked you a question."
Jack looked up from the table, annoyance on his face. "No, I'm not married." Big surprise, I thought. "Now, do you mind? I'm trying to play pool here." He went back to eyeing out his shot.
Bryce leaned into me and spoke softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize he would be such a dick tonight. Jack's always a little sour, but tonight is a whole new level."
"It's fine," I assured him. "This is pretty much what I expected."
He put his hands on my shoulders and lowered his voice again. "Seriously, if he says anything that crosses a line for you, I'll take care of it."
We looked back towards the table. Jack had cleared the table of all the solid balls and was ready to play the eight. He lined up the angle, and it looked to be a perfect shot. The eight-ball rolled into the side pocket. Then, as though moving in slow motion, we watched as the cue ball followed suit. Karma's a bitch, I thought, biting my lower lip to keep from rejoicing out loud. Jack threw his stick down on the table.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Bryce exclaimed with excitement. "My pockets feel heavier already." He clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Make sure you break that hundred up. Fifty for each of us."
Having finished their own game, Darryl and James joined us at our table. "Did I hear that correctly? The two-a-you beat Jack? Holy shit."
I didn't quite understand the excitement. "Why is that such a big deal?" I asked. Meanwhile, Jack was pacing in agitation.
Finally, James said, "Jack has had a four-month winning streak. Every Monday since February, he's lured us out here with the hopes of winning back all our hard-earned dollars. Only to rob us blind once more."
"It's not robbing you if I win fair and square," Jack corrected. Even though he had lost, his mood didn't seem any sourer than before. It also didn't seem any less.
While they discussed the many wins and losses, I excused myself. I weaved between tables and chairs and people until I disappeared into the washroom. I didn't have to go; I just needed a moment to digest. Inside, I splashed cold water on my face, gazed into the mirror and gave thought to where I was and the people around me. If someone had told me that I would one day be in a small, country bar, shooting pool with Jack Fielding, I would have called them a god-damned-liar. Not only that. I would have also asked them to share the hallucinogen they were taking. Yet, there I was. It all felt somewhat surreal.
I had spent twenty years playing scenarios in my head, ruminating on how I would confront him as an adult, what I would do, what I would say. On the drive over, I had been trembling with fear and anger at the thought of seeing him again. But now, I had resolved myself to let the evening go with no mention of our past altercations. It was begging to feel anticlimactic. Inside a voice was screaming; How can you not confront him? You owe it to yourself -- and maybe I did. Truth be told, however, what I wanted more than closure was to enjoy myself. I couldn't fathom how rehashing a twenty-year vendetta would be conducive to a fun evening out.
True, it hadn't been all seamless. Jack still appeared to be the same temperamental meathead he had been in high school, but he no longer seemed mythological to me. He was a mere human. A jerk, yes, but no real danger. He had made it clear that my presence was an annoyance to him. The feeling was mutual, but he hadn't been hateful. I could assume that his crotchetiness was masking some buried insecurity. Perhaps my presence was a cruel reminder of what a douchebag he had been in high school? Maybe he felt remorseful, and it was easier to push me away than to be apologetic? Or perhaps, he was just a seriously unhappy person.
Indeed, he hadn't seemed all that excited about his life. He hadn't appeared happy when I asked after him. His responses were rudely delivered. They also seemed frustrated and worn down. Like Jack couldn't stand to discuss how far from his goals, his life had turned. Sometimes I took for granted my unfortunate childhood experiences. As painful as they were, they had cultivated my determination. It had created in me a physical need to think smarter, try harder, work faster, do more, see more and be more. I had spent years thickening my skin so that I could survive in a world I already knew to be cruel and demanding. Jack Fielding had been released into a world where he was no longer king of the lunch table. That, no doubt, had been a rude awakening. I found myself feeling a little bad for the guy.
Beer made me feel more bloated than drunk, so on my way back from the washroom, I stopped at the bar to order a gin and tonic. The counter was deep espresso with brass accents. It occurred to me how clean, expensive, and out of place it looked. I glanced towards the back of the room, back to the pool area and was surprised to find it empty. I turned to the bartender. A middle-aged bear of a man dressed in lumberjack plaid. "Do you know what happened to the gentlemen who were playing pool?"
"They went out for a smoke, I think," he replied, wiping the counter down with a filthy rag. I tried not to cringe. So much for the bar being clean. I nodded in gratitude and headed outside.
Opening the door, I half expected to find them gathered around the front steps in a cloud of smoke. I did not, but I did hear chatter coming from the alley to the left of the building. I also smelled a pungent odour that I recognized immediately. I wasn't sure it was them at first until I heard Bryce's distinctive voice. "I should go check on Parker. I don't want him to think we left."
"He's a big boy. I'm sure he can figure it out." Jack didn't even attempt the charm that Bryce pulled off so magnificently.
"How do you know him anyway?" I heard Darryl ask between ragged coughs. "I was pretty shocked to hear you were bringing a celebrity. You don't even own a television."
"He's hardly a celebrity," Jack retorted.
"I don't know him at all," Bryce said, ignoring Jack's comment. "I suppose he's my brother-in-law. Kind of -- Which feels a little strange. Until recently, I didn't even know Lauren had a brother." Obviously, I was not a hot topic in Lauren's conversations.
"That's not surprising," James spoke next. "Parker has always been one of those things we know exist but never acknowledge. Like gravity or climate change."
"That sounds kinda harsh."
"You didn't know him," James replied. "Even forgetting the whole gay thing, he was a strange kid. Most kids wanted to be part of a group, but he was always so eager to separate himself from everyone." There was a moment of silence. Then James continued, his voice straining against the smoke he'd just inhaled. "I always got the feeling that he thought he was better than us."
"He still does," Jack offered. "Judy saw him at the restaurant the other day. She said he was dressed like he stepped off the cover of a magazine and then snubbed his nose at her like she was a servant." I did not!