Page 28 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“That’s because their defense sucks. The goaltender is doing all the work.”

Charlie studied the TV, then me. “You know your shit, Boss.”

“I used to play.” The warm soup relaxed my throat, making it easier to talk. “I held the record for most goals scored in a season at my old high school. I think they still have my jersey hanging somewhere.”

It felt like a past life. I could still smell the ice and the rank odor of the locker room.

“I didn’t know you were a hockey star.”

“I wanted to go pro. But…then my girlfriend told me she was pregnant. It was in between fourth and fifth period.”

“Holy shit.”

“Crazy how little moments like that can change your entire life. You never know when things are going to take a hard left turn, and there’s no going back.” I tried to remember the guy I was in fourth period, but he seemed like a totally different human. There was a definitive before and after in my life, something I hadn’t let myself think about.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love Ellie. She is my greatest accomplishment by a mile, and I can’t imagine my life without her. I have no regrets.”

“But you would’ve been a better left winger.” Charlie was drowned out by the cheers of a goal on screen.

“Who knows what would’ve happened? I might never have made the cut. And Stone’s Throw would’ve been sold or gone out of business if I wasn’t there to take it over. It’s a lot of work running a bar. A lot of fucking work. It’s my whole life. But it’s worth it.”

“Maybe it’s good that you didn’t have a choice to run Stone’s Throw. I remember in my sociology class, we talked about how the more choices we have, the less happy we are. Ever since I was a kid, I was told you can be anything. You can do anything. Well, anything is a lot. In college, I had no idea what I was going to do after graduation. All of my friends had these plans. Med school, law school, investment firms, Hollywood. They had direction. There were a million paths I could’ve gone down, and I kept thinking about the paths I wouldn’t choose. I didn’t know what the right one was. I still don’t know.”

“You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart guy, Charlie. And the truth is, most people don’t know the answer either. Every day I wonder if I should’ve tried to get a better job, a corporate job, one that would’ve provided Ellie with a better life. She once came home from the first day of school crying because kids teased her for not having a new backpack. I hated myself for that.”

The illness and the soup and the darkness all combined into this weird truth serum because I was not the guy who spilled his feelings like this. These were thoughts that’d been locked away, yet they were tumbling out. Charlie’s chattiness was as contagious as my cold.

I shut the hell up. Did I share too much? Charlie didn’t want to hear some old man complain. The light from the TV flickered on his pensive face as he turned to me.

“You’re a good man, Mitch.”

We quietly focused back on watching the game, which transformed into a nail-biter by the second half. We yelled at the TV, cursed the players, and gave our own running commentary until somewhere in the third period, when I drifted to sleep, my body physically unable to concentrate.

When I woke up sometime later, I found myself lying across the couch. The TV was off, the tray was cleaned off, the quilt was nestled over me, and Charlie was gone.

10

CHARLIE

Imade Amos and me Mai Tais on Friday night. He had a rough week at school, and it was eighteen degrees out. A tropical libation was needed.

“I didn’t even know I had all the stuff to make one of these,” Amos said as he watched me shake the ingredients.

“Yeah, it was a surprise to me, too. You even had the orgeat syrup.” That was the key ingredient for a Mai Tai. Otherwise, it was just a sweet drink. “You’ve got quite a collection of top-shelf liquor.”

“It’s accumulated from years of Christmas and end-of-year gifts from parents. They love to get teachers nice bottles of alcohol. Do they think we’re all lushes?”

“Maybe they know you need it.” I followed the mixology instructions and delicately poured the dark rum over the ice cubes. They filled the glass with color. “Ta da.”

I put down a paper towel in lieu of a cocktail napkin.

“Do you say ‘ta da’ for all your customers?”

“Just you.”

Amos took a sip. I waited for his reaction.

“Holy fuck, that’s good.” Amos immediately drank more. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. “You’re really good at this.”

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