Mason King's Fiftieth
“You goin’ to the King’s 50th?”
Case took a good, long pull on his Corona. “Oh, I’m goin’ to a 50th all right. I have to go with Michelle to Memphis for her parents’ 50th wedding anniversary party.” He put his bottle down on the side of the pool table and took his shot, missing his target.
Erik laughed. “It’s gonna be something, man, Mason King turning 50. We’re riding our bikes up to Center Hill Lake. He got a cabin for the weekend.” He picked up his cue stick and started chalking up the tip. The men were playing a game of eight ball.
“Yeah, so I heard. Michelle and I had a huge fight over it when I said maybe I would go to Mason’s party instead of the big reenactment of the unhappiest marriage in the history of Shelby County.” He watched Erik sink the nine ball. “Mason’s gonna grill two-inch-thick steaks, I heard.”
“You sure you have to go to Memphis, Case? Not gonna be the same without you, man. I don’t want to speak out of turn here, but as I recall, your in-laws don’t even like you that much.”
“What’s that got to do with it? Michelle’s whole damn family is going, even her brother, coming in from Alaska.”
“I hear you, Case. You’re just gonna miss a big time is all.
The two men had to speak loudly to be heard over the rock music at The Double Dribble, a sports bar on the edge of town. The place was nearly empty, unusual for a Thursday night. Three couples were seated in booths along the wall, and a few men sat at the bar nursing their drinks, each separated by at least six stools. An older man, who looked to be in his early 70s, was leaning against the bar, watching the men play pool.
“Didn’t you miss the regionals too? Remember two years ago you couldn’t go see Vandy play Auburn?”
“I remember. I missed that one because her nephew was leaving for Iraq. That one didn’t bother me so much. He’s a good kid.”
“You would think you’d at least get some points, though,” Erik said.
“Emmy give you points when you do something she wants?” Case asked.
Erik put his cue stick down and signaled the bartender for another round. “You know how it is with Emmy. We kind of go our own way. Most nights we don’t even eat together. Hell, we sleep in the same bed maybe three nights a month these days.”
Case thought that one over a moment. He drew his stick back and fired. Eight ball in the corner pocket. Game over. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been married 25 years, seems longer.”
“Twenty-six for me.”
Can you see us doing this another 25? Michelle is already a pain in my ass, man.”
Just then the old man who was leaning against the bar stood up straight. “You boys are pathetic; you know that?”
The men turned in unison. “How many beers you have so far tonight, Avery?” Erik asked.
“Not enough to forget, not yet anyway.”
“Forget what?” It was Case this time.
“My Lily Rose, we was married 45 years.”
Case shook his head. “She was a great lady, had her for Algebra one year.”
“I’m listening to you two talk about your wives and I’m wonderin’, do you remember the way it felt when you fell in love?”
“Long time ago Avery,” Erik said.
“Not that long ago, Erik.” He turned to Case. “I’ll bet if you tried, you could remember a time when you would jump at the chance to go see Michelle’s mama just so you could be with that girl.”
“So what?”
He turned to Erik. “See that young couple in the back booth holding hands? Seems to me time was you used to do that with Emmy. What the hell happened to you guys? You ever think about that?”
“Not really,” Case said. “You ever think about it Erik?”
“Oh yeah. Every day I wonder about it. Mostly, why I ever asked Emmy out to begin with.”
The old man drained his last bottle. “Most women become who they think you want them to be. For better or worse, they’re the way they are because of you.”
Is that right? Then how do you explain why Miss Lily was always sweet when you’re a miserable prick?” Case asked.
The old man shook his head. He paid for his beer and turned to leave. He looked at the men, resignation in his face. “Like I said, pathetic.”