And Then I Said …

“You’re a prick,” he said as he washed down a bite with a bit from the bottle. “You’re honestly gonna let her get away?”

“What?” he pushed his cap to the back of his head. “You’re kiddin’ right? She pushed me away. Look at these hands man,” he held them up, “I’m innocent man. I didn’t do a damned thing.” He put one hand on the table to hold up his chin and used the other to pick up his pace. He swallowed one beer; he wanted another.

“You’re wrong man. I’m telling you - you’re wrong,” he sat back and put his last piece into his mouth while he waited for his friend to chew his judgments over.

“Ok you know what John? Shut up man. Don’t make me hate you.” They both knew it wasn’t possible but he felt the need to pose for the sake of his pride.

“Here’s why you’re wrong,” he leaned into his elbows on the table.

“Ok Padre, I’m not interested right now. Be my friend. You can be my priest when I’m less pissed.” He picked up a fry and chomped the bit for effect. “This is the part where you’re supposed to say that she isn’t worth the effort and we bitch about women.”

“I’ll handle my own participation buddy!” he laughed. “Man you’re a control freak. You even want to tell me what to say!”

“Ok, cut the shit man. If you start telling me why I’m wrong, then I’m going to have to listen. And then I’m going to have to take your advice. You know me man. I honor my lawful authorities. And I don’t want to right now. So make it easier man - give me tonight. Bitch at me tomorrow. Ok?” He closed his eyes and pulled off his cap so he could pat down his hair. “One night man - I’m only asking for one night.”

“You should hear me out before you decide you know what I’m going to say,” the timbre of his voice reflected his impatience. “You don’t owe me more than that. But we’ve been friends for almost thirty years and you owe me that as your friend. Now I’m going to get up and hit the men’s room and when I come back have your shit together because you’re pissing me off.”

He sat at the table and realized there wasn’t any way in hell this conversation was going to be tabled.

“Ok, are you being reasonable or are we just calling it a night?” he asked when he slid back inside the booth.

“Ok man. What?” he conceded without concealing his reticence.

“Could you smile man? I’m not the dentist,” he laughed.

He slapped a smile on his face that screamed affectation yet couldn’t conceal his affection. “Go man. It’s cool.”

“I don’t want to get into the argument itself. You figure all that out,” he began, “but you can’t dismiss someone over one incident. I don’t care who’s involved. You have to hear someone out. You don’t owe that to just a girlfriend. You owe that to every human being. You can’t hold someone to one incident and pronounce a final judgment. That’s not Christianity. Hell man, that’s not even decent.” He looked up to judge his progress - saw less resistance - and progressed with his pronouncement. “You should meet her and hear her out. That’s the most you owe her. If not, take her call man and listen to her. That’s the least you can do,” he sat back satisfied he had fulfilled his obligation.

A few minutes passed without any conversation passing between them. The silence was severed by the server, “You guys doing ok?”

“Yeah, can I have a Diet Coke?” he soberly asked. “You want something else John?”

“No I’m good,” he replied to his friend as the waitress backed away from their booth.

“Ok, you’re absolutely right,” he shifted his ass on the seat, “and I’ll do it. Not right now. But I’ll do it. I can‘t ride the roller coaster of her right now. I‘ve got motion sickness. But I‘ll do it.” He raised the Diet Coke to his lips and took a couple of sips. “Now can we do the all women suck part?” They laughed. “Oh my God man, remember that twisted bitch you dated in college? What was her name? Wow she was a piece of work!”

He supplied her name, “she was twisted but I sucked as a boyfriend.”

“Man you were intense. You probably took up a couple dozen of her therapy sessions,” he laughed. “I love you man. You know that.” They exchanged a pound. “Hey John, can I ask you something?”

“Say it man, you know you can,” he still sipped his first beer.

“Do you think I need therapy?” he didn’t feel like a victim; he felt vulnerable.

“Seriously?” John asked.

“Yeah. Be straight with me,” he picked up the glass and took a sip to wet his dry lips.

“No man, there’s nothing wrong with you,” his friend decreed. “You’re cool.”

“Then what’s my problem? Talk to me,” he implored.

“You expect everyone to be you,” the priest pronounced, “and it breaks your heart because no one is.”

“It’s like I’m alone all the time,” his throat trembled.

“You’re not alone. I never knew any man who was less alone. Look at all the people who surround you.”

“It’s like it’s not enough,” he confessed.

“Only God’s enough,” he said. “You taught me that.”

“You can’t feel God,” he criticized.

“Oh shut up. Yes you can. Every time you get that feeling when you’re having a real conversation with someone or when you share a real emotion with someone - that feeling you feel is God,” he sermonized.

“Yeah it is,” he admitted. “Yeah that’s right,” he said aloud to mark the moment.

“When two or more are gathered in my name,” he raised his hand and pointed a circle in the air, “I am amongst them.”

“Even in a bar?” he mused.

“Even in a bar,” he pronounced.

“You think God would drink pale ale?” he amused. “It is the nectar of the gods.”

“Shut up man!” he laughed as he reached for the bill.

“Hand me that tab Padre, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you pay. You took the vow of poverty, not me.”

“You can’t afford it anymore than I can,” he chastised.

“I can’t afford the sin of you paying for my beer!” he chuckled. “I gotta make up for all my chastity infractions.”

“Ok. It’s your call buddy,” the priest reminded him.

“I know John. I know.