Bellamy's Redemption

“I’m not sure yet.”

“They aren’t giving you a lot of notice about any of this, are they?”

“I guess not.”

“That might not be a good sign. To me, that says they don’t respect you very much.”

“I don’t know if it really means anything other than that they’re disorganized.”

“Well, be careful.”

“I will. The flowers are beautiful. Really nice.” I sniffed them. “And they smell really pretty.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

“Do you want a beer? Or we could share some wine?”

“A beer would be good.”

“Okay.” I opened two and handed him one, leading us over to the sofa in the living room. I sat down in the middle but instead of settling in beside me, he sat across from me on a chair.

Oh. So that was how he was going to be. Fine. No problem. In fact, it was probably better this way.

“I like this,” he said after taking a swig. He scrutinized the label. “It’s very… hoppy.”

“Glad you like it. I have a whole sampler box of microbrews I got for Christmas from one of my sisters. Her husband is really into beer.”

“That’s cool,” said Pete, taking a swig.

“Crate is more like it. There must be thirty bottles of beer. My whole fridge is full. If you look in there right now it’s just condiments and beer. Really, it’s kind of shameful.”

“Nice,” said Pete, glumly examining the label.

“Some of the flavors are quite unusual,” I continued, trying to lighten the mood. “For instance, pumpkin spice. That sounds horrible to me. Especially the spice part. Pumpkin, maybe I could handle, but once you add spices, well, that’s just gross. There’s also cranberry. I think that has the potential to be good. Let’s try that one next. We’ll split it. Then there’s lavender. That sounds bad. Lavender and beer are, like, opposites. Umm, coffee is another one I think. That’s a stout, of course. Do you like stout? I do. Anyhow, there are all kinds of crazy flavors. What I’ve tried so far has been good for the most part, believe it or not. I don’t have to work in the morning so we could drink our way through all of them if you want.”

“I guess I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. I was under the impression something is happening here.”

“Huh?”

“Weren’t you?”

“I’m not sure I’m following you, Pete.”

“What are you going to do if you make it to the end? I’ve seen those shows. I know the whole point is to get married. What’s your plan if it goes that far?”

“I don’t know,” I said. Couldn’t we keep talking more about beer?

“Am I crazy, or was something happening here?”

“Do you mean happening with us?” I asked.

Pete looked exasperated. “Yes.”

“Well, maybe. Maybe something was starting.”

“Maybe? Just maybe?”

“Okay. Yes. Something was happening.”