Three of a Kind: Tales of Luck, Chance & Misfortune

by C. J. Pinard

  Twenty-five. That was his big birthday last year. The year he realized that people under twenty-five are stupid. He realized he should be free to have fun and be a bachelor. Something he never got to have because he was stupid.

  Was stupid.

  Not anymore. He was twenty-six now, and he wasn’t stupid anymore. He also knew divorcing Ashley after eight years of marriage, while making a six-figure salary while she worked a minimum-wage job in daycare, would also be stupid.

  They’re not in California, but he still knew – she’d get half. And he so wasn’t giving her half of jack shit. He worked. He invested in his 401K. He made responsible investments in the stock market, the money market accounts, the Roth IRAs. She didn’t do diddly-squat. Worked with children all day then came home and whined about not having any.

  Sure – she would occasionally give it up to him at night when he got home, and if it was his birthday, he might even get a little oral fun… but really, she’s not worth half. Nope. He was tired of the monotony. Same sexual positions, the timed sex in tune with her fertility cycle, the same pink fingernail polish, same style of underwear, same hairstyle, same, same, same. He was done.

  But he was stuck. Unlucky and stuck. Stuck like Chuck.

  It was six p.m. on a Friday and he did not want to go home. The Bulls were in the playoffs. He was never a big sports fan but how can you ignore basketball when you lived in Chicago? Ever heard of Michael Jordan? Come on now.

  “Yo, Noah, gonna head to Paddy’s. You comin’?” asked Dave, a fellow stockbroker. Young and cocky, that was Dave.

  Noah’s kneejerk reaction was to say that he had to get home to the wife. But not tonight.

  “Ya know what, Dave? Sure. I could use a Guinness tonight. I’ll meet you down there.”

  Dave pumped a fist in the air. “Sa-weet! See you down there. I’ll order you a beer.”

  Noah smiled as he powered down his computer and shut off his desk lamp. It was already dark in the Windy City and the only light coming in through the monstrous window was from the twinkling city lights. He pulled his iPhone from the breast pocket of his navy blue suit and shot off a text to Ashley.

  Work dinner thingy, be home when I can.

  He grinned to himself and hit “send.” He re-pocked the phone and grabbed his briefcase before locking his office door. The phone immediately chimed with an incoming text, but he didn’t bother to check it.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Paddy’s Irish Pub was already crowded as he weaved his way through the bar crowd and found Dave and two other coworkers at a tall table in the corner. They had the perfect view of the game on a flat screen that seemed to float in mid-air in the corner of the bar. The TV was enormous and everyone seemed to be glued to it. Most of the patrons were men, some in business attire, others casually dressed. Noah took his seat the table.

  “Hey, guys.”

  Dave indicated a tall glass of foamy, amber liquid. “First one’s on me, man.”

  Noah lifted the glass and looked at Dave. “Thanks.” After a large chug, he set the glass down and indicated to the TV. “So, who’s winning?”

  Dave had his own glass at his lips, but paused to answer. “Lakers. But we’ll catch up.”

  Two hours and four beers later, Noah felt the familiar vibration of his phone in his pocket.

  Text number three from Ashley.

  Where are you?

  He’d left the suit jacket in his car but transferred the phone into his pants pocket. He now wished he had just left it in the car with his jacket. He sighed and decided he’d better answer; maybe she’d leave him alone.

  Still out. Be home later.

  He rolled his eyes as he pocketed the phone.

  “What’s up? Woman troubles?” Dave asked good-naturedly.

  Noah snorted. “Something like that.”

  “Doesn’t she have any girlfriends to hang out with?” asked Anthony, another coworker. Anthony was only twenty-two, fresh out of college, and newly single after breaking it off with his college sweetheart.

  Lucky bastard.

  “No. We moved here from Summervale after we graduated high school. She has a couple of friends at the daycare where she works, but she never quite made any good friends, I guess. I don’t know. We don’t talk about it.”

  Anthony shook his head. “That sucks.”

  Noah signaled to the cute waitress in the short-shorts for another beer and continued his tirade of complaints, which was out of character for him, but the liquid courage was helping. “I mean, I wish she’d make some friends and stop obsessing on having a baby. We’re still young, right? I want to travel and have fun, not be tied down with a kid.”

  Dave chuckled. “Trust me, once you have one, life as you know it is over. No more spontaneous getaways. No more lying in bed ‘til noon on a Sunday. And sex? Sha right, that’s not happenin’.”

  Anthony asked Dave, “You got kids?”

  Dave tipped his head back, finishing the last of his Samuel Adams. He set the empty glass on the tabletop. “My son is two and we have another on the way.”

  “Wow, that sounds fun,” Noah slurred sarcastically.

  In the corner of the bar, a man of about fifty was sitting by himself, nursing his own beer. He was short with neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair and a ruddy complexion. He had heard every word of the young men’s conversation and smiled to himself.

  Noah happened to look over at him and the man raised his glass and smiled at Noah.

  Noah did not smile back, but instead, looked away quickly.

  There’s one born every minute, thought the man as he smiled.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Ashley was sitting on the living room sofa next to the front window. She was absently watching a trashy reality show while her head whipped around to the window every time she saw headlights pass by their modest three-bedroom home in the suburbs of Chicago.

  Tears leaked down her face as she looked down at her phone and read the texts again. What was going on with Noah? Why was he being this way? What did she do? There were just the two cryptic texts, and that had been a few hours ago. She was worried, but she was going to get to the bottom of this.

  Headlights dipped into the living room window and Ashley stood up as a yellow cab pulled into their driveway and she watched as Noah got out. He paid the driver and walked slowly up the drive to the front door. She rushed to the door and opened it.

  He walked in and she could smell the alcohol oozing from his pores.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, her arms folded. “Where have you been? I’ve been very worried! Where is the Audi? Did you wreck it?”

  He blew out a breath and shook his head. “No, Ash, it’s in the parking garage of the Hilton.”

  A bolt of shock ran through her and she gasped. “What in the world were you doing at a hotel?”

  “I wasn’t at the hotel,” he sighed. “I was at Paddy’s across the street. I couldn’t find a spot on the street so I parked in the Hilton’s garage. We have parking passes since we put clients up there from out of town. It’s not a big deal. I had too much to drink so I took a cab. We’ll go get my car tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve been gone all frickin’ day and night with no explanation and you just want to go to bed? I’ve been worried to death and you didn’t even have the common courtesy to tell me where you were. Unbelievable…”

  “Look, I had some beers with some guys from work and we watched the Bulls game. That’s all there is to it. I don’t understand why you have your panties in a wad.”

  She started to cry. “Why are you acting like this? You never go out! If you wanted to go out and drink, why didn’t you invite me along? I had no plans tonight. It’s Friday; I was hoping we could rent the new Nicholas Sparks movie and have pizza. But apparently, what I want isn’t a consideration of yours anymore.”

  “Oh, my God. I’m going to bed.”

  And with that, he went
into their bedroom and closed the door. As he stripped off his clothes and fell into bed, he felt a small twinge of guilt for talking to her like that, but that quickly faded as the old feelings of resentment and tedium flooded his mind. He was tired.

  So tired.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  The entire weekend passed without them speaking. Ashley decided the silent treatment was going to be his punishment so she said nothing to him. Saturday morning she was gone before he got up, and she spent all day in downtown Chicago, shopping with his credit cards. She came home in the early evening and fixed herself dinner without offering him any. She watched TV alone while he worked on his computer. Sunday passed relatively the same, and when Monday morning came, he decided he’d had enough of the silent treatment. While it was nice not to have to hear her mouth or deal with her attitude, it was getting old. He still would rather be single, but he didn’t like living in a house with tension, either.

  Noah grabbed his briefcase and headed for the inner garage door to get into his Audi. Dave had picked him up Sunday to go retrieve it since he was too proud to break the silence and ask Ashley for a ride.

  He passed by the kitchen and mustered a small, forced smile. “Bye, have a good day.”

  She glared at him over the rim of her coffee cup and said nothing, then looked back down at the electronic reader she had been engrossed in before his little disruption.

  He sighed, went out to the garage, got in his car, and left the house for a long day at work with lots of distractions. Just what I need, he thought.

  The workday passed as it always did, as did the work week. On the following Friday, Anthony sent an email to everyone in the office, announcing it was his twenty-third birthday and the party was at Paddy’s after work.

  Noah clicked on the email and smiled to himself. Was it worth Ashley’s wrath? The better question would be, did he care? The answer was no. He had such a great time a couple of weeks ago, he was willing to do it again. This time, he would tell her in no uncertain terms that he was going to be out late and not to wait up.

  They had gradually begun speaking over the past two weeks. Things still weren’t easy and casual but they were better than they had been. The more they got back into their comfortable groove, the more Noah began to realize that he still wanted out. He had been racking his brain on how to not only divorce Ashley and keep most of his self-amassed wealth, but not break her heart in the process. He thought maybe he should just give her half and that might soften the blow. He quickly decided it wouldn’t soften the blow and he was back to square one.

  It was six p.m. and this time, it would be a phone call. He took a deep breath and hit his wife’s number on his contact list.

  “Hi,” she answered.

  “Ash, I have another work thing tonight. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up, okay?” he rolled his eyes as he softened his voice.

  The line was quiet for a few seconds.

  “You still there?”

  She sighed. “Yes, I’m here. Whatever, Noah, just go. You’re obviously going to do what you want anyway.”

  Click.

  Well that settles that, he thought with a smile as he shoved the phone into his pocket.

  The pub was crowded once again and Dave, Anthony, and two other coworkers, this time one was female – Caroline from Personnel – had joined them. She was an attractive brunette in her late twenties, fresh out of college and newly single. She was flirting with Anthony.

  “Oh, my God, you’re such a baby!” Caroline said, laughing. She was nursing a warm glass of Merlot, tracing a perfectly manicured fingertip around the lip of the glass as she stared at Anthony. She would occasionally glance at Noah, too.

  Anthony wadded up his cocktail napkin and threw it at her. “No, I’m not! Twenty-three is old.”

  She snorted. “Oh, okay, I guess that makes me a grandma at twenty-eight.”

  “Oh, you’re so not a grandma,” Noah said, out of character.

  Damn, does my mouth not have a filter? he thought to himself.

  Dave, Anthony, and Caroline all looked over at him, surprised.

  “It speaks!” Dave teased.

  Noah hiccupped. “I can speak. I just choose not to. I’d rather listen.”

  “Yes, because this is such a stimulating conversation about age and random work bullshit,” Caroline responded, smiling.

  “Anything’s better than what’s at home,” Noah murmured.

  Dammit!

  Dave laughed. “You’re on a roll, aren’t ya? Why don’t you just invite Ashley next time? Maybe she won’t put you in the doghouse if you quit leaving her at home.”

  Noah set his beer down and measured Dave with a serious stare. “I don’t see your wife here.”

  “Uh, she’s like forty thousand weeks pregnant, and besides, we don’t have a babysitter for Kyle,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, invite her next time, Noah. I’d like to meet her,” Caroline said with a grin. Noah couldn’t tell if she was being facetious or sincere.

  Noah sighed. “I don’t think so. I doubt we’ll be together much longer anyway. I’m over it.”

  “Over what?” Anthony asked.

  “Everything. Marriage, suburbia. I’m just done.”

  Caroline set her wine glass down and crossed her legs. “So get a divorce.”

  “It’s not that easy,” Noah mumbled.

  “Uh, you don’t have kids. It can’t be that difficult,” Dave remarked.

  “Well, she doesn’t have a pot to piss in, or a window to throw it out of. We divorce, she gets half my money, my retirement, everything.”

  “She does?” Anthony asked, clueless.

  Noah raked his hand through his short, spiky black hair. “Yes, she so does.”

  Dave quickly changed the subject back to work and the next couple of hours passed more jovially. Noah decided to leave, and this time, he had paced the beers so he was able to drive himself home. He said his goodbyes and headed out the pub’s front door. It was now 11:30 p.m., and as he was digging his keys out of his pocket, he heard a voice behind him on the sidewalk.

  “Mr. Graham?”

  Noah jumped and turned around to find a short, older man with salt-and-pepper hair and ruddy cheeks standing behind him. The man was in a nicely tailored suit, had on an expensive watch, and was leaning on a fancy brass-tipped cane. None of these things went unnoticed by Noah.

  He looked at the stranger quizzically. “Yes?”

  “I heard about your little problem in the bar. I think I can help you,” the man said in a heavily accented Irish brogue.

  “If you’re an attorney, go find an ambulance to chase. No lawyer in the world could help me with my problem,” Noah replied arrogantly.

  The man broke out in a genuine smile. “I’m not an attorney, young man.”

  Noah sighed. “Well that’s great for you. I’m leaving now.” He turned around and pushed the button on the key fob and started to open the door to his shiny black Audi sedan.

  The man took a small card and placed it into the front pocket of Noah’s suit jacket. “You give me a call if you change your mind.”

  Noah looked down at the card and studied it. “I doubt I’ll be changing my…” but as he looked up, the man was gone. He looked up and down the street but he was nowhere to be found.

  He shook his head and studied the card again. It was a plain, cream-colored card with a lone shamrock in the upper right-hand corner and the words “Sean O’Brien” in the middle with a phone number. He shrugged, got in the car, and started the engine. He tossed the card into his unused ashtray and started off toward home.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  He was exhausted as he walked through the door. He set his keys on the side table and began loosening his tie with his index finger as he shuffled through the stack of mail on the counter. Junk, junk, and more junk.

  The kitchen was dark, only a small light from the stove illuminated it. He could see it was clean and he wondered what Ashley had do
ne all evening without him. He walked out of the kitchen after tossing the junk mail into the recycle can and jumped when he heard a voice.

  “Sober enough to drive yourself home, I see,” said Ashley from the living room sofa. She was sitting in the dark with a mug of something hot, and only the light from her electronic reader illuminated her face.

  “Damn, you scared me. Don’t do that,” he said, continuing on his way to the hall.

  “Yep, just keep on walking and ignore me like you always do,” she called out.

  He rolled his eyes and did just that. When he reached the bedroom, he changed into pajama bottoms and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

  Ashley followed him in there and looked at him in the mirror as he brushed. Her arms were folded over her silky white camisole top. “I’m ovulating, you know.”

  Noah strongly resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he spat toothpaste in the sink then wiped his mouth with a towel. “How was I supposed to know?”

  “If you spoke to me every once in a while, you’d know a lot of things.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She sighed and walked out of the bathroom and got into bed.

  He also got in on his side and rolled over on his side and looked at her. “I suppose you want to have sex now?”

  She looked at him in amazement. “Geez, Noah, don’t do me any favors.”

  “Fine.” He rolled over, turned off his lamp, lay down, and kept his back to her for the rest of the night.

  She cried herself to sleep.

  The next few weeks were filled with most of the same. Either arguments or silent treatment. They just weren’t getting along, and no matter how much Ashley tried to probe, he wouldn’t come out and say he didn’t love her anymore or that he wanted out.