Page 7 of That Friendzone Feeling
“Justbecause you didn’t notice it bothering me, doesn’t mean it didn’t bother me.It’salways bothered me.Walkerthe scruffy beer-maker of the family.”Hetugs at his shirt. “Everyoneelse wears a suit and tie to work and counts their piles of cash on the weekend.Andthen there’s me, able to contribute only a fraction of what they did to buy the house forMaggieandJim.AndI’dstill have my student loans ifMaxhadn’t paid them off a few years ago.”
MaxisWalker’seldest cousin.Hehas a stratospherically successful company that buys up growing businesses and invests in others.
“No, you wouldn’t.Don’tbe ridiculous.Andseriously?Youhave a multimillion-dollar brewery and craft pub chain that’s on the brink of being a billion-dollar company once the resort’s up and running, live in ahuge loft inBrooklyn, have the upstate lake property, and you feel like the poverty-stricken failure of the family?”
“Nota failure.We’rea great success.”Hegestures at the room with his bread. “AndIlove living in a converted warehouse and driving around in a ’65AstonMartin.Butmost of what we earn goes right back into growing the business.SoIfeel guilty about not being able to supportAuntMaggieandUncleJimas much as the others.Iowe them everything.”
“Theyhave more than they could ever want now.Andthey love you.Sodon’t be silly.”Ireach across the table and tap the side of his head. “It’sa mixed-up place in there, huh?Becausethat’s the most extreme reason for shaving off a beardI’veever heard.”
“Well,Iguess this new year is as much of a fresh start for my chin as it is for your manless life.It’sall biz for both of us.”Herolls his eyes. “Yoursis bullshit, though.You’llbe back withAnthonynext week.”Heshoves a huge chunk of the green-speckled bread into his mouth.
“No,Iwon’t.”Andmy stomach is becoming surer about that.Imove on to the cone-shaped pastry things stuffed with mushrooms and cheese. “Andit’s more than that.I’mnot going near another man unlessIthink there’s a chance he might be the oneI’llmarry.”
“Ha!”Walkersprays a shower of half-chewed zucchini breadcrumbs at me.Ijust about screw up my eyes and turn my head away in time.
“Sorry.”Hecoughs and wipes his mouth. “Ihad no control over that.”
“Yeah, thanks.”Ipick out a couple of stray bits that landed in my hair.
Hetakes a sip of beer to clear his throat. “Butyougiving up having a boyfriend is about as likely as you giving up sugar.”
“Oh, wow.Isthat the time?”Ipoint overWalker’sshoulder towardKaraokeKorner, whereLeon’staken the stage.Heflips theTVscreen hanging over his head to live news coverage ofTimesSquare, then adjusts the volume on his microphone.
Walkerturns to look before he checks the 1950s-styleFossilwatchIgot him to mark the opening of ourBrooklynpub on his thirtieth birthday two years ago. “Yeah.It’sfive to midnight.Wherethe hell did that last couple of hours go?”
“We’vebeen sitting here eating and drinking for at least one of them.”Ipoint at the remnants of our appetizers and empty beer glasses.
Oneof the staff lowers the music piped into the bar and restaurant areas to make way forLeon.
“Esteemedguests,”Leonsays in the manner of a circus ringmaster. “It’salmost time.”
“Bringit on,”Walkersays, hopping off his stool and moving around to stand next to me and face the action.
“Oh, thank you.”Hetakes two glasses of champagne from the tray offered to him by one of our servers who’s roving the room to hand out the complimentary midnight toast.
Hehands one to me and leans on the backrest of my stool.
“Iknow where my skills lie,”Leontells the room. “AndI’mgoing to leave you in the hands of the professionals.”Hepoints at theTVscreen and turns to face it.
Walkertakes a sip of his champagne.
“Hey.”Inudge him. “You’resupposed to save that for midnight.Isn’tit bad luck or something to drink it before?”
“Nowyou’re making stuff up.”Hetakes a dramatically large mouthful like he’s willing superstition to defy him.
TheTVimage zooms in on theTimesSquareball.
Allaround us couples are smiling, celebrating together.Andsuddenly that painful, gnawing knot rises inside me again.Iput my hand on my belly as ifIcan physically push it down.Ineed to learn to be okay on my own.Imust.
“Hey.”Walkerlooks down at me and shouts over the whooping crowd. “Don’tgo all sad on me again.”
Thecountdown starts on the screen, and everyone in the room joins in.
“Ten…”
Herests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’vedone so well this evening.”
“Nine…”
