Chances Aren't

by Young, Luke

  "When we finally decide to try, I hope we don't have any trouble," she says.

  "I'm sure you guys will be fine. But the longer you wait I've heard the harder it—" I shut up when I see Nina's concerned expression. "Shit, I told you I always say the wrong thing. I don't actually have any sort of filter between my brain and mouth. That's why I usually don't say anything except when I drink and as you can tell it gets much worse when I do."

  "Let's review..." She gives me a smile. "You've made me feel terrified to be alone in my own house and you've pretty much said I'm too old to have a baby."

  "I didn't."

  "Just tell me I look fat in this skirt and you'll find me curled up in the corner crying."

  Giving her a pointed look, I shake my head. "You don't look fat in that skirt."

  She frowns. "So you're saying I look too skinny?"

  "What?" I raise my hands up in surrender. "I, uh, what? Wait a minute, you're messing with me."

  Covering her mouth, she fights back a laugh.

  "You really can't pay a woman a compliment, can you? I wouldn't change any of this." I wave my finger around pointing at her in a general way as I nod my head convincingly. "I'm sure Tom has no complaints."

  Her smile fades and she returns to studying her wine glass and says softly, "Yeah..."

  Oh, shit. Check please. I can't win.

  Glancing to the clock, I widen my eyes. "I'd better get home. I'm sure you have, you know..."

  "You sure?"

  I swallow what's left in my wineglass. "Yeah, I've got to get up early and try to find two hundred thousand dollars."

  "What?"

  "It's a joke." I rise up from the table and head toward the back door. Turning back, I say, "Anytime you guys want to come over and use the pool, feel free. Even if we're... I mean, I'm not there."

  "Great, I'm sure we'll take you up on that." She follows behind me.

  Stepping out to the deck, I point to the door. "Make sure you lock this."

  "I will."

  "Until Tom gets back I'll keep an eye on you... I mean, your house. Not in a stalkerish way, just, you know, I can see right into your..." I slowly exhale while shaking my head and she breaks into a chuckle. Pointing to my house, I stammer, "I, uh, I'm just going to go now. You should probably forget most of all this."

  "Ben, thanks for fixing the window..." She smiles at me. "And hang in there."

  "I will."

  I return to my backyard, strip off my shoes and socks and after rolling up my pants, I put my feet in the pool. It's been unusually hot for June and the water temperature is amazingly warm. Leaning back, I relax supporting my weight on my arms behind me as I gaze up at the starlit sky thinking that my best days are behind me and hoping I didn't just come across as an old creepy guy with Nina. Convinced that I did, I imagine that she's probably over there laughing at me right now. Leveling my gaze, I spot her in the window at the sink washing dishes and quickly look away. I rise up, shake off my wet feet and head into the house.

  Sitting down at the computer, I open up a spreadsheet and compile a quick listing of all our assets and debts. I wasn't too far off in my estimate and we owe just over six hundred thousand across all our mortgage loans. I pull up the credit card accounts and find another fifteen thousand that we owe, but that's the whole story— there are no other bills or car loans to worry about.

  I'm feeling pretty relaxed from my beer and wine combination and for a moment, I consider going out for a swim, but decide against it. With my luck I'll pass out in the pool only to be pulled from the water just in time that I live the rest of my life in a vegetative state. One where I'm cognitive enough to hear what everyone is saying about me, but I'm unable to communicate. What a nightmare that would be. Instead I head upstairs and flop into bed.

  Chapter 5

  My eyes open and it's barely light outside. Turning to the clock, I find it's only 5:23 a.m. I groan and turn on my side clutching my pillow in an attempt to fall back asleep. After a few unsuccessful minutes, I reach into my nightstand and pull out my black sleep mask. Light, noise, my overactive mind— everything keeps me from sleeping. I can't stand it. I wish I were one of those people who could sleep until noon. The latest I've ever gotten up was maybe ten and that was after a night of staying up until three.

  I'm hungry and for some reason I find myself thinking about Emily's sauce which makes me think about Emily and how we fell in love, since the sauce sorta played a key role. We met the summer before our senior year in college, but we didn't go to the same school. She went to Towson State while I was at the University of Maryland in College Park. We actually met at a bar in Fells Point, which is a little trendy area of Baltimore city right on the water which is packed with bars and restaurants.

  The night we met, Emily was in the bar with friends and I was there with my college roommate, Alan. From across the bar, we caught each other's eye and I had just enough to drink that I mustered up the courage to talk to her. This wasn't something I was at all used to doing, but the way she looked at me made me feel really comfortable. Normally I didn’t have a clue what to say to girls, but she was so easy to talk to, we really had some definite chemistry brewing that night. I wouldn't say it was love at first sight or anything like that, I mean, don't get me wrong, I was drawn to that bright smile and her big brilliant blue eyes.

  I remember she lit up when we were together that night. It made me feel like I was someone worthy of being loved and for a guy with incredible self-esteem issues; it was completely new to me. And it was a look I would enjoy for many, many years. Sadly it's a look I haven't seen in a long time. But it wasn't the look that reeled me in. Even as great as it was to be the recipient of that, it was something else. Actually, it was three things— three things that my youth and inexperience were hopelessly overmatched against. It seems silly now and I hate to admit it, but yes, I was mesmerized by a great family, great spaghetti sauce and a great ass.

  You see, I was born into a family that wasn't all that close, forced to eat sauce from a jar and I've always been partial to a great ass. My family consists of a mother, only one other sibling, a sister, and of a father who suffered from mental illness. My parents divorced when I was eleven, just after one of my father's many regular and sometimes embarrassingly eventful nervous breakdowns.

  When my mother had finally had enough, she filed for divorce and remarried about a year later. Because my sister and step-father didn't exactly get along, my sister soon left to live with my father. We didn't have any extended family living nearby, so I had no idea of what a close family was actually like.

  Within the first week I met Emily, I was invited to their weekly Sunday dinners. A huge Italian spread complete with her large extended family. Her parents along with three sisters and one brother would all be around the table with aunts, uncles and grandparents. Sitting there for hours, we would enjoy the incredible food and great company. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. And I'm not saying her family wasn't crazy— because most families are. They're just nutty, but in a good way and close to one another in a way that I had never before experienced.

  The sauce was truly amazing, a secret family recipe slow cooked all day with delicious meatballs and tender melt-in-your mouth London broil, it was literally to die for. The sauce was so good, you could eat it like soup. Served with fresh Italian bread, eggplant parmesan, and on special occasions, amazing cheese ravioli from a little store in the neighborhood, it was the best food I'd ever eaten.

  But enough about the food— from the moment I laid eyes on Emily in that tiny little brown skirt and the way it hugged her adorable ass, I had to talk to her. I soon discovered there was an intelligent, funny, perky girl to complement my attraction to that skirt. Then, weeks later, after seeing what was under that skirt, those pastel colored satin string bikini panties covering her perfectly rounded cheeks, I was hooked. Clearly in over my head, I was powerless to resist the perfect storm of family, sauce and adorable ass.

 
The Sunday dinners slowed in frequency over the years to the point where, for a least the last ten, we would get together only on major holidays. The change in frequency was a product of distance and life and kids, of which her siblings each had a few. Emily's adorable ass is still pretty cute, although, honestly after twenty plus years, it's just not the same, but I can't fault her because, for that matter, neither is mine. That leaves me with the sauce— the one true constant in my life. It's basically all I've had to look forward to for the last decade and now all I have left is one more small container of it in the freezer. Maybe I'll hold onto it.

  Emily and I fell hard for one another and were engaged nine months after we met, a few months before we graduated from college. We were married fifteen months later and for the first couple years everything was perfect. We each got decent jobs and bought a townhouse as we saved money for our future. Seven years later we bought this large house, Emily quit her job and we set out to get her pregnant. Keeping the condoms in the drawer for the first time ever, we enjoyed the hell out of each other. Doing it with purpose, but with intense passion as well, the sex was carefree and hot. It took about six months before the mild concern set in as we watched everyone around us get pregnant with ease. Two of her sisters already had babies and were each expecting again. Other friends were starting families and I thought we just needed to give it some more time, but Emily's gynecologist didn't agree so off I went to my first urologist visit and it was all downhill from there.

  At some point during this walk down infertility lane, I fall back asleep and I'm awakened by music and groggily turn off the alarm. It's 7:00 and I struggle for a moment to remember what day it is. Suddenly my eyes shoot open with the realization that I need to get to work on time and meet Greg at the office by 8:30 so we can drive together for the meeting in Washington. Placing my feet on the floor, I sit on the edge of the bed and close my eyes for one moment longer before I head to the bathroom to shave.

  Chapter 6

  I'm riding in the passenger seat with my boss as we speed out of the city. The meeting was a blur— I let Greg do most of the talking, throwing in a nod and a few 'yes, we can do that' statements without really knowing what the hell I was saying we could do. I'm sure we can do whatever they need and I'll just figure it out when it actually comes up. My head bobs up and down as I fight sleep until I notice things look a bit familiar. I perk up realizing that we're heading down Route One toward my alma mater, the University of Maryland in College Park. He must be taking a different route out of the city. Suddenly, I'm looking out the window with my eyes wide with anticipation.

  I've haven't been back on campus since I graduated more than twenty five years ago. I'm curious to see what has changed, and since I don't think we plan to stop, it’s fortunate that pretty much everything I'm interested in seeing is just off campus and visible from the road we're traveling on. I want to see if that little restaurant is still there— the one I worked in the summer before my senior year. And a stone's throw away from that was the frat house where I rented a room that same summer. I find myself smiling for the first time all day as the memories seep into my mind. It was the best time of my life for a number of reasons— I was making great money waiting tables, I was living a block away from the best bar on campus, I dated multiple girls that summer and it was also the summer I met Emily— life was really good.

  We reach the strip mall and my eyes scan the location where I remember Swensen's Ice Cream Restaurant to be and it's not there. I shake my head as I discover it's a fucking Cold Stone Creamery now. Nothing else seems familiar, although the bank building which sat separate from the strip-mall is still there, but it's now some name I don't recognize. The car slows and I crane my neck leaning forward in order to look around Greg to locate the frat house, but it's gone too— replaced by a parking lot. The car comes to a stop at the traffic light and I frown. Even though that frat house was falling apart when I lived there, I'm still shocked.

  "Shit," I murmur.

  "What?" he replies.

  "They're gone."

  "Who's gone?"

  "This frat house I lived in one summer and the place I worked."

  "That's right, you went here. Hey, you hungry? You know any decent places to eat?"

  Looking out the window to the right, I find something I remember, R. J. Bentley's Filling Station is still there. "This place didn't used to be so bad."

  "Great." The light changes and Greg makes a right.

  Bentley's hasn't changed one bit, not even the menu, I mean, literally they appear to be using the same worn out thick plastic laminated menu from when I last ate there. I recognize many of the sandwiches with their old timey automobile themed names like The Studebaker, The Rolls Royce and The T-Bird. I'm eyeing The Packard, which is chicken salad on a freshly baked croissant, even though I'm skeptical of the freshly baked claim, I settle on it anyway. Not the manliest of choices, but what the hell, my life is pretty much over now. Not only is my marriage over, but I was just hit with the devastating realization that I'm so freaking old now that the location of my happiest memories no longer exists.

  After the waiter drops off our beers, he writes down my 'ladies' meal selection and Greg's burger order and heads off through the otherwise empty restaurant.

  "You sure this place is good?" Greg makes a face.

  "No, but where else can you get this atmosphere?" I give him a smile.

  He crinkles his nose. "Smells like stale beer in here?"

  "Yep," I reply proudly.

  He's right, the place does smell like stale beer. Which stands to reason since college kids have been spilling it everywhere into the seeping cracks in the old solid wood floor for more than thirty years. "This used to be a gas station a long time ago."

  "I'm not surprised." Looking around the room, he frowns. "I guess that's why it's empty."

  "They must not do a big lunch business, everyone is in class. At night, I'm sure it's still packed, but hey, don’t shit all over it. It's a college kid hangout. They don't care what it smells like. They pretty much come here to get drunk and get laid. You remember, right? You went to college— what, like in the fifties?"

  He gives me a chuckle. "Late sixties, but I didn't get laid."

  "That sucks. Speaking of getting laid..." Pointing out the window to the parking lot across from the College Park Shopping Center, I say, "I had the best sex of my life right over there."

  Greg follows my finger, then returns to look at me, frowning. "Where, the parking lot?"

  "No, that used to be a frat house."

  "You were in a frat?"

  "No, I was too much of a nerd for that, but I rented a room in one that summer."

  "Who was the girl?"

  "Her name was Laura Adams. We worked together in this restaurant that used to be across the street." I close my eyes and shake my head. "I'm such a loser that I remember the date... July third." After taking a sip of beer, I continue. "I know because it was the night before the holiday. Geez, it must have been... I was going into my senior year so it was… nineteen eighty eight. Yeah, eighty eight…"

  "You know…" He fiddles with his silverware on the table then sighs. "I don’t think I've had sex with the lights on since eighty eight."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Every time, missionary position and lights out." He shoots me a tired look and karate chops an imaginary line in front of me with his hand.

  "Wow and how often?"

  "Not very. I did just do it on my birthday, but I can't remember when the last time was before that." He looks away thinking. "Hmmm, maybe six weeks."

  "Well, you are married," I say. We share a knowing look that morphs into one of tired resignation before eventually breaking into a smile. Pausing, I give it some thought. "You know, maybe the wives do want more sex and better sex, but we're too stupid to pick up on the signals."

  "No, trust me. I really don't think Alice wants any more sex."

  "Huh, but you guys are good, right? You have a s
olid marriage."

  "Oh, yeah. I love her. It's always been this way. We had the girls and she was busy raising them and she had her interests... I was always working. We have grandkids now and besides there is more to life than sex."

  "Yeah, but it can put a smile on your face."

  "That it can, yep, that it can…" Greg replies with his voice trailing off. He exhales slowly and looks past me with his eyes glazing over. "You know I smiled... once."

  "What do you mean?"

  After turning seemingly to see if anyone was listening, he continued softly, "I've never told anyone this. And, uh, even Alice thinks I was a virgin when we got married."

  My face lights up. "You horny bastard."

  "Tracey Barnes," he announces, flashing his eyes suggestively.

  "I take it the lights weren't out?"

  Shaking his head, no, he gives me an evil grin.

  "Missionary?"

  "Oh, God, no. Right before I met Alice, I went on a date with Tracey. She had me park by the railroad tracks and she..." He points down to his groin. "She, uh, you know."

  "Blew you?"

  "Yeah, and it was... whew man, I never forgot about her."

  "What happened?" I ask.

  "She moved away and I never saw her again." He sighs. "Well, then I met Alice and we fell for each other. I mean, I love Alice completely, but I never forgot about Tracey."

  "She never called you or anything?"

  "I worried for a few years that I'd maybe gotten her pregnant. We didn't use anything when we did it in the backseat of the car."

  "The crazy shit you do when you're young." I shake my head and scoff.

  "Don't I know it." Suddenly, he appears embarrassed. "But that was a long time ago."

  We each take a long pull off our beers. He asks, "What happened to Laura?"

  "I met Emily the very next day and I don't know… it was almost like none of it ever happened. I just didn't ask her out again. I can't explain it." Sighing, I rub my chin. "But Laura, wow, she was so sexy. We did it like all night. I mean, all night. I guess it just didn't register with me back then, but she was... I don't know, um, so into it. I forgot about it or suppressed it or... for a long time, but the memories are coming back to me now with everything that's going on."