Page 41 of Be My Reason

Nate must have noticed my bad mood when I came home. “You need to go out for a drink,” he says, when I emerge from my bedroom after my shower.

“Yeah, I do.It was a crappy day. But I don’t think anyone is available.”

He looks down at himself and shakes his head. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“I thought you didn’t go out.”

“Well, for you I would make an exception.” He smiles.

“Oh, no.” I hold up my hand for him to stay where he is. “I’m not falling into that trap. We agreed, no pressure, no dating.” I think back on the conversation we had after the first night of movie watching. I laid down the ground rules. He accepted my boundaries. This would push the barriers.

“No, not a date.Just a drink. With a friend.” He blows a breath out of his mouth. “It looks like you could really use one of those right now.”

Yes. Yes I could. I miss Emma.

I think of how he has been these few weeks. He has stayed true to his word. He hasn’t asked me out. He hasn’t so much as touched me. Well, if you don’t count the times I’ve fallen asleep on him. But, technically, you could argue that was my fault. He has been nothing but a friend. A good friend. So I say yes. Of course I say yes.

We pick a nice little bar a few blocks down from the shop.I like to walk when I can in case I drink too much. But that won’t be a problem tonight. I don’t trust myself around Nate when I’ve had a few drinks. I will limit myself to two Cosmos.

Nate really is fun to hangout with. We even start to talk about high school, but only the early years, not about my junior year or what happened with us or his mom.

He is great at people-watching, just like I am, and we sit around and make up stories about people in the bar. We see a couple fighting and Nate says that she has informed the man that she is pregnant; only she is not his wife . . . his wife is the lady sitting at the next table eyeing them with spitfire.

We laugh and getalong like we’ve been friends forever. It is an easy, comfortable night and my work worries eventually fade away.

Heexcuses himself to go to the bathroom and not a minute after he is gone, a large man who smells like a greasy hamburger sits down on Nate’s barstool. He motions to the bartender to bring me another drink. “Name’s Ben and yer about the prettiest thing here,” he slurs.

The bartender puts another Cosmopolitan next to my unfinished one and I turn to the man and say, “Thanks, but I’m here with a friend.”

“Don’t meanya can’t talk to me, does it?” He leans a little too close and his breath reeks of whiskey and cigarettes. When he pulls back, Nate is standing behind him. His face is red and he is staring at the back of the man’s head.

Oh, gods ofdrunken barflies, please let the man get up and leave us alone.

“What’s going on here?”He eyes the man. “Brooklyn, are you okay?”

“Iwuz jus buyin’ the pretty lady a drink.” He doesn’t even turn around to look at Nate.

Nate reaches into his pocket, pulls out a twenty and throws it at the guy. “Thanks, man, but I’ve got it covered.”

“The lady here—Brooke wuz it?” He motions to me. “She says she ain’t got no boyfriend. Says she’s just here with a friend. So why don’t you piss off.”

Oh,no. “Please mister, just leave,” I plead with him.

“You heard her,” Nategrowls, “get the fuck out of here!”

The guy turns to me and says, “Now’s that any way to treat a nice guy who got ya a drink?”

Nate reaches in and grabs the guy’s arm and pulls him off the bar stool. “Leave,” he says as he nudges him away from us.

The next thing I see is the guy taking a swing at Nate and then I hearcrack!and the guy goes down. Nate drops to the floor holding his hand. “Son of a bitch!” he yells. He kicks the barstool several times until it falls over and hits the floor, drawing even more attention to the situation.

The bartender comes around the bar with a golf club and directs all of us to the door. “Sorry, man,” he says to Nate. “I know it wasn’t your fault, but yougotta leave or my boss will have it in for me. Rules of the bar.”

Ben’s friends gather him off the floor and apologize to us for his behavior.

On our way back to the bakery, I can see that Nate is clearly in a lot of pain. He is trying to hide it but the veins in his neck are bulging out, he is breathing rapidly and his eyes are watering.

“You need to see a doctor,” I say.

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