Chances Aren't (6 page)

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.

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 solid 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."

He gives me a curious look. "What's going on?"

"Emily and I… we're getting a divorce."

"No."

I nod my head yes and shrug.

"Why?"

"She just left me and I can't say that I'm upset about it. Does that make me a terrible guy?"

"No, it's not like you cheated on her."

"No, never… I mean, it's been such a long time coming and I'm just not sure how I feel about it. I think I'm just more depressed that I let so much time slip away. That, you know, my best years are behind me."

"I wouldn't beat yourself up about it." He gives me a sympathetic look. "You guys had such a hard time trying to have kids and um… you stuck by her and you both tried to make it work."

"Yeah."

"And you're still a young guy, so—"

"Right." I frown.

"Hey." He smiles. "I'm almost twenty years older than you, so let's not act like your life is over, because I don't want to think about what that says about my life, okay?"

"Sorry, yeah you're right." I take a deep breath.

"Why don't you look her up?"

"Who?"

"Miss amazing sex." He motions with his thumb out the window toward the site of the magic coupling.

"Laura… What now, after twenty five years?"

"Sure." Greg sips from his beer and looks at me waiting.

"Okay, yeah, let me friend her on Facebook. Hi, this is Ben, um, we had one incredible night back in college after which I never asked you out again, but now that my wife is dumping me because I'm such a lousy husband do you maybe want to catch a movie... how's that sound?" I roll my eyes.

"You could spin it at little better. Just reach out to her and find out what she's up to."

"I don't know."

"What've you got to lose?" He raises his eyebrows.

Shrugging, I sigh. "Maybe."

The waiter drops off our plates and I look at mine, cringing. When he's safely out of ear shot, I say, "I always order the wrong thing."

Greg takes a bite of his burger and gives me an acknowledging nod.

I lift the croissant top up and use my fork to poke at the shredded chicken with way, way too much mayonnaise concoction that I ordered. Picking up my sandwich, I take a small bite and swallow it down. It's not the worst sandwich I've ever tasted, but it's pretty bad.

"How is it?"

"It's okay." I put my sandwich down and wipe my mouth with the napkin. "You know, I'm so bad at ordering, that when I'm at a restaurant without Emily, like on a business thing— I would text her, have her lookup the menu online so she could tell me what to order."

He chuckles.

"What the hell am I going to do?"

"This is what you're worried about, ordering food in a restaurant?"

"Yes, I mean, no… It's just an example of how much of a mess I am."

"You've got to think positively. You're always minimizing what you do and bad mouthing yourself. You've really got to stop or you're always going to be miserable."

"I know. I know." I eat a French fry and shrug. "These are pretty good."

Greg takes a big bite of his burger as I pause a moment to think. "You know, maybe I should have let Emily use Damien's sperm."

"What?" He nearly spits out his food.

"That guy from her office that you hate?" After wiping his mouth, he shoots me an incredulous look.

"It wasn't like he was actually going to sleep with her or anything."

"I don't care. Imagine what it would be like raising the child of a guy like that. I mean, you told me about the way he was constantly coming on to her."

"He was tall and athletic— he still has his fucking hair and everything. If we'd had a son, it would have been great to have him come from good stock like that, you know?"

"Wait a minute." He frowns. "Didn't Damien give your wife a ride home one day and he actually had his dick out of his pants when he dropped her off?"

"Yeah, but it was big, or so I was told..." I widen my eyes. "... and again for a boy, that would be—"

"Would you listen to yourself?" Greg lifts his hands up in defeat.