Page 14 of One Chance to Stay
“How can you be so certain?” I barely knew this man, and yet he acted as if he had seen to my core.
“Easy,” he said, with another pat on the shoulder. “You’re a Mainer.”
He laughed as he headed for the door. As he exited, a gust of arctic air filled the coffee shop. Logan gave a wave through the glass. I wanted to scoff at his statement. I had heard the non-answer from people my entire life. He might as well have said, “Pull yourself up by the bootstraps and make it happen.” Somewhere, it had an edge of truth. We had a knack for figuring things out and making them happen. I might not be enlightened yet, but his encouragement meant the world to me.
It wouldn’t happen overnight, but the gears were turning. There was change in the air.
BEWARE MY FLAMING ARROW
Jason: Want to come to game night?
Jon: If not, good chance we’re all going to die.
Patrick: Are you being dramatic?
Jon: My high-priestess elf will NOT die tonight.
Amanda: Nope. Not dramatic at all.
Patrick: What else am I going to do?
Jason: The snowmobile club meets tonight.
Patrick: Do I need my own sword?
“I fire my flaming arrow.”
“Ew,” Amanda said. “Not at the table.”
Jon rolled the dice across the hand-drawn maps. It spun on a corner and I swore I heard all three of them gasp. It settled on one. After making a fool of myself with a goblin, I learned low numbers were bad. Unless they weren’t. This game had more rules than any sporting event.
“I call do-over.” Jon jumped to his feet. “It doesn’t count.”
Despite the comic book shop being warm, we all wore bulky clothes to ward off the chill. Amanda sported a black and purple sweater that matched her hair. Jon and Jason wore the classichoodie with “Maine” written across the chest. I had an oversized flannel buttoned up and a knitted cap hugging my head. Despite our winter armor, it still felt as if the cold air poked at exposed skin.
Jason cackled, pointing at Jon. “Your bow of flaming arrows…” From behind a cardboard cutout hiding his character sheets, Jason glanced from Jon to the twenty-sided die. “…snaps in half.”
“Carla!” he cried. “She’s been good to me.”
I didn’t know what to expect when I first arrived. Nobody dressed up, though Jason made enough comments to know he had a pair of elf ears at home. I didn’t understand most of the rules, but the more they roleplayed their characters, the more I?—
All eyes turned to me.
“Do I have chips in my beard?” I checked my face.
“You’re the only one who can stop the Lich King.”
I looked at the paper Jason had prepared for me. It had all the details of my bard. Ironically, my backstory involved working at ‘Ye Olde Tavern.’ Is this where I drew my dagger? A harp? Who walks around, stopping the undead with a harp? I had logistics questions about this game.
“You want me to whip out my harp—” They all snickered. “—and sing a song to defeat a zombie?”
“Technically not a?—”
Amanda held up a hand. “Shush. You can sing him to sleep, and then we can stab him.”
“That’s her strategy in real life, too.” She elbowed Jon. “Don’t act like there isn’t a knife in your boot.”
Most of my experience with this trio came from the bar. They’d order drinks and mingle with the crowd. After a cocktail or two, they’d be on the floor doing something that resembled dancing. I had known Jason ran the comic shop, but I guess I expected more capes and fewer swords and sorcery.
