Page 1 of Hard to Forgive

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Ever since kindergarten, Thursdayhas been sacred to me.

My mom babysat my best friend, Sebastian St. James, every Thursday night when his mom had to work a double at the hospital. We would sit on the couch and watch cartoons and color until Mom made dinner. After dinner, we’d play outside until Mom called us in to get ready for bed. We shared a sink to brush our teeth and fell asleep in my twin bed.

In middle school, Holden Murray and Eli Graham joined our little group. They came over after school and we played video games. Mom would order us pizza, and we’d turn on a movie while we ate. Most of the time, we didn’t bother watching the movie. We just talked about whatever we could think of, every thought that passed our teenage minds. There were no boundaries between us.

In high school, our group became complete when Matthew Bennett moved to King’s Bay. We adopted him immediately, and he joined our Thursday group hangs. He introduced us to his nerdy television shows, bringing over DVD box sets that we’dwatch in my basement. That lasted until we got our driver’s licenses. Then Thursday nights moved to the local pizza place, Pie in the Sky.

Even in college, when we all went to different schools in different states, we still managed to get together every Thursday night. They were video chats, each of us in our rooms. It didn’t feel the same as it did when we were in person, but it was the only time I ever felt whole while I was away from King’s Bay.

We all made our way back to King’s Bay after college, and we all immediately fell into new Thursday traditions. Now, they took place at one of two locations. We either went to the local dive bar, The Rusty Nail, or we went to the local gay club, Goliath. It depended on the mood of the night and if anyone had a particularly strong opinion.

Eli always wanted to go to Goliath. He loved the loud music and the way it served as a siren song to every queer person visiting our town. It meant he found a lot of people to hook up with. He also usually found a few of his other friends there. Holden usually voted for Goliath because Eli did.

Matthew and I preferred The Rusty Nail. It was quieter. There were some nights where my anxiety spiked too high and the crowds of Goliath were too much for me to handle. When that happened on a Thursday, it was the Rusty Nail, no questions asked by any of my friends.

They were pretty amazing that way.

I don’t think Sebastian had a hard preference either way. A lot of the times, he was our swing vote.

That night, it was a Rusty Nail night. We all arrived separately. Carpooling worked when we were younger but as adults, we enjoyed having our own means of transportation. What if we met someone we wanted to leave with?

I was the second to arrive, beat only (and always) by Seb. He had already staked out our favorite booth. I settled in next tohim. I’d order drinks once everyone got there. I couldn’t get too drunk, even if I wanted to. The next day, I’d be meeting the team for my next development project at work, and I didn’t want to make a bad first impression.

Holden and Eli arrived ten minutes late. It was never Holden’s fault that they were late. It was always Eli’s, because he always found himself distracted with something related to work. The man was a construction worker, and he tended to be a workaholic. He had dreams far bigger than the construction crew he was currently working on, and he worked hard to save money to make those dreams become a reality.

“We would’ve been here earlier, but someone got distracted playing on his phone,” Eli apologized as they slid into the booth.

“Oh, is that the story we’re telling?” Holden whipped back immediately, scowling at his roommate.

“It’s what happened,” Eli insisted.

“Is it though?” Sebastian asked. “Or did Holden start playing on his phone because you weren’t ready?”

“That!” Holden insisted, bouncing in his seat a little and pointing wildly at Seb. “That was exactly what happened. Eli was making notes on some blueprints and insisting that it would be just a few more minutes. Then he had to shower.”

“That sounds more accurate,” I called out, laughing. “Anyone heard from Matt?”

Matthew was usually late, but he usually texted the group chat with some reason that he was running late. Usually he got sucked into one of his freelance projects and lost track of time. There hadn’t been a text yet.

“Not since last night,” Sebastian answered. He looked troubled. “I don’t think he said anything in the group chat all day.”

Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen his name come across my phone either.

“He’s been quiet for the past few days,” I realized.

“Let’s give him some time,” Eli declared, always the logical one in our little cohort. “You can figure out why he’s being quiet when he gets here. Most likely, he was working and didn’t charge his phone. Again.”

He had a fair point. We all started making small talk, but I was painfully aware of Matt’s absence. We all were. Forty-five minutes passed, and he still hadn’t shown up. “Should we call him?” Seb asked, breaking up a conversation about Holden’s canceled Swyper date that weekend.

“No need.” Eli nodded toward the door. I turned around and saw the missing member of our party approaching.

He was usually disheveled, but tonight, he looked like a disaster. There were heavy bags under his red-rimmed dark brown eyes. His hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in days. My heart ached looking at him. I exchanged a look with Sebastian. He shook his head:don’t ask.

“You look like shit.”

Eli clearly missed Seb’s silent message. Either that or Eli was just being Eli, operating on his standardno bullshit allowedpolicy.

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