Page 41 of Inside Silence
Sweet of her to think so, but time will tell. I didn’t exactly make an effort to stay in touch or leave a forwarding address when I left Silence. I bailed on him too.
Of course, if our daughters are becoming friends, chances are I’ll bump into him at some point, and I’d rather get any potential confrontation out of the way on my terms before that happens.
“I may do that. Where are they at?”
“The Kerrigan.”
Figures.
With my luck, Roy won’t be the only pissed-off blast from the past I’ll be bumping into.
Oh well, may as well get it all over with at once.
“Sounds good. I’ll swing by for Tate around eight thirty?”
I might as well grab a bite at The Kerrigan if I’m heading there anyway. From what I recall, they had pretty decent wings.
We’ll see if I’m welcome.
Not sure what I was expecting walking into The Kerrigan, but no one really paid any attention to me.
That is, until Roy noticed me, stood up from the table, and abandoned his buddies to come and greet me.
“Well, fuck me sideways. Nate Gaines. I didn’t believe Mags at first, but I’ll be damned, it is you!”
His loud, booming voice is accompanied by a wide grin, a big bear hug, and several bone-jarring slaps on my shoulders and back.
I’m actually stunned into silence. I definitely hadn’t anticipated a greeting like this and it’s taking me a moment to process.
“Back in Silence,” Roy continues undeterred. “I didn’t think we’d ever see you again, man. You left nothing but dust clouds and hurt feelings, but I tell you, I’m sure glad to see you back and in one piece. Mags says your daughter is a sweet kid. How’d you manage that?”
He laughs heartily at his own joke and claps me on the shoulder again for good measure, while I swallow the unexpected lump in my throat.
Luckily, Roy’s boisterous personality makes up for my silence as he starts dragging me toward his table of friends. Before I know it, I’m being introduced to Larry, Omar, and Tim, pushed down in a chair beside Roy, and served a beer from the large pitcher in the center of the table.
Conversation around me resumes as if I’d been sitting here all along. The subject is rather predictably sports, although they also briefly discuss the suspicious death of an old drunk who was a regular here, and some ongoing issues Omar is apparently having at his place of work. I don’t really know a whole lot about records and stats, the dead guy’s name doesn’t ring a bell, and I don’t have a clue where Omar even works, so I simply resign myself to an occasional grunt.
But I listen, learn, and sip my beer, and when at some point several baskets of wings and a boatload of fries are set down on the table, I dig in right along with them.
Even though I’ve always been a bit of a loner, it feels kind of nice being one of the guys.
“Play darts, Nate?” Larry asks at some point.
“Not with any kind of accuracy,” I admit.
I mean, I could probably hit the board, but that’s the extent of my abilities.
“He couldn’t throw a ball to save his life either,” Roy jokes.
He’s referring to the one time I had the misguided idea to try out for the school football team, because the players got all the hot girls. What little appeal I might’ve held to the opposite sex at the time evaporated during the two hours of those tryouts. My athletic ambitions did as well.
“Yeah, well…all it takes is a little practice,” Larry suggests, following it up with, “You’re welcome to join us any time. Monday nights, come early like today for drinks and some food, and the games start at seven and run to ten, ten thirty.”
“You should,” Tim, who seems to be the quiet one in the group, contributes. “It’d be nice to have an extra player.”
Roy gets to his feet and also pipes up, a teasing grin on his face as he shakes his head. “Y’all, this guy will need a ton of practice. Don’t say I didn’t warn you lot.”
I ignore him, but turn to the other three. “I’ll think about it. I’m still settling in.”
