Whiskey and Country

* * *

A week later, Jace and I sat in Tucker’s high-end condo overlooking Lake Michigan, playing poker, as we did every Wednesday night. I looked at them, and my heart squeezed in gratitude at our friendship. But something kept prickling me the whole day, nothing perceivable, just blunt thorns under my skin, making me want to scratch them out. Tucker’s voice brought me back to the present.

“I can’t believe you guys sold your condo fuck-up to Duffy,” he said, sipping his beer.

“It was Jace’s idea. He saved the day. It turned out the promoter made half a million extra in profit with that sale only. It could have turned out much worse. We were lucky this time.”

“You did all the work. Don’t shy away from your success,” Jace said.

Tucker nodded in agreement. “You’ll get that promotion, Nick. Now it’s certain. No way Cody will let you go after this. If I were him, I’d even promote you to partner.”

I shook my head and let out a snarky laugh. “Forget it. He’ll never agree to sell parts of his business. The guy is territorial. And greedy as fuck. Anyway, I just did my job. Anybody could have done it.”

“Man, you’re too humble. Take the recognition for once. You killed it.”

Tucker and Jace raised their bottles to mine.

“Tuck is right. You’re the one who sold the project to Duffy. You know, scored that goal,” Jace added with a wink.

Fucker. I threw a beer cap square in his chest. “I’m right. He could have said no. All I did—”

Jace’s phone vibrated on the table, and he flipped it over with a deep scowl before jumping to his feet. “Gimme a sec, guys.” He stepped away from us, clutching the device in a white-knuckled grip.

“I bet a twenty it’s Pam,” Tucker mocked with a disapproving twist of his lips. “Tell me again why he married her?”

“No idea. I can’t believe I devoted one year of my life to her. Guess they have the chemistry we missed.”

“She’s a control freak, man. You’re way better off.”

“Well, I wasn’t in love with her. We just happened to enjoy sex together. On occasions. Other than that, we had nothing in common. She wasn’t even that nice. I hope she treats Jace better.” I scratched my temple. “Still can’t believe she went after him the moment we broke up. He said she’s his true love. Let’s hope he’s right—” I swallowed the last words as Jace came back.

“Sorry, guys. Need to bail. You know Pam. She’s not a fan of our Wednesday poker nights.” He gave us an apologetic, timid smile before leaving as if the building was on fire and he had to save his life.

Tucker stared at me when the door clicked after Jace’s exit.

“It’s messy. Pam owns his balls. I’ll repeat what I said earlier. Why the hell did he elope with her? Worst decision of his life.”

I bowed my head.

Pam moved on to date one of my two best friends after we decided to not see each other again, and I wasn’t even upset about it. Rather, I hated that she dug her claws into Jace’s soft heart. He deserved so much better. But he’d made his bed. And now had to sleep in it every night.

“I’m glad you got an out. Your romantic heart could have put you in his shoes. You’re a sucker for love. L.O.V.E.”

“I’m not.”

Tucker harrumphed, and I had to agree, “Okay, I totally am. What’s wrong with that? Not all of us want fuck buddies. I tried. It ended badly. We fought because she wanted more than I was willing to give her. Now she despises me. Never again. My folks are still in love after thirty years. I’m aiming for that. Life is too short to spend time with people you don’t genuinely care about.” Tucker opened his mouth to say something, but I rushed on, “Before you object, there’s nothing wrong with it. I don’t want to spend my life fucking random chicks. That’s your thing. And if you’re fine with it, good for you. It’s just not my way.”

I drained my whiskey, slamming it with a thud on the poker table.

My phone chimed, and something coiled around my stomach. Nobody except my friends ever called me at this late hour, and they were all accounted for, except for my youngest one. My breathing hitched on its way out as if it didn't want to know the truth. I recognized this number. My fingers hesitated to accept the call, knowing I wasn’t ready—and would never be—for the words that could sink everything I held dear in my life.

I eyed the screen warily as if it could explode any second. And it did.

“You’re not getting that?” Tucker asked, snapping me out of my daze as my fingers curled around the handheld.

I cleared my throat, braced my shoulders, and answered, digging deep inside me to search for the flecks of courage I knew I’d need. Courage I feared I didn’t possess at this instant.

“M—Murielle.” I stammered a greeting, my voice low and uneven. My tongue couldn’t seem to formulate the words.

The woman on the other end of the line said nothing, her sobs filling the silence and making their way to my heart, piercing through its wall like thousands of sharp swords. My chest deflated. My shoulders slumped down. No matter how much I tried to stay strong, her sobs broke my strength. Since Derek’s final prognosis, I’d been anticipating the call that would change my life, but deep down I still carried hope this wasn’t the end. But Murielle’s sobs froze my blood, rattled every bone in my body. Slivers of my soul where hope resided withered to ashes. My knees lost their strength to stay upright. I clamped my fingers on the edge of the poker table, the nerve to utter a word—any word—disappearing each second.

“Murielle?” I closed my eyes as grief warped my heart, its bindings tight, making a single tear flow down my cheek. I whispered, my voice sounding hollow even to my ears, “Talk to me. What happened?”

A weird gasp followed by a keening moan that made my hair stand on end resonated through the phone. Murielle’s heart was breaking, shattering to dust on the other end of the line, and all I could do was stand there, listening to the cries of her empty womb. The cleaving of her soul. Her child. The blood of her blood.

I waited, my words stuck in my throat, my body slowly turning to concrete, one cell after the other.

She inhaled loudly and stuttered, “C-co-coma. He’s on life support. My baby will never wake up. They said. How could they say that?”

I stopped breathing the moment my brain processed what she was saying. I tried to move but couldn’t. I looked down at my legs. They were there, but I couldn’t feel them. They seemed paralyzed. Hot, then cold, then ice and burning fire. My body didn’t know how to react to the grief. Murielle’s words sounded surreal, coming from a far-off place.

A hard mass grew in my chest, compressing my heart.

“I’ll be right there,” I said, speaking through the lump in my throat. “I’ll be there. In ten. I’m coming. I’ll be there.” I hung up, the sensations twirling inside me, strange and alien, as I scanned the room around me. I blinked. Where was I?

Tucker stepped next to me and squeezed my arm. “Nick?”

I looked at him with unseeing eyes. Why was he here? A fog seemed to envelop my brain, blurring my thoughts. I had to be somewhere, but where? I blinked again, praying for my brain to take over. To get me out of this fugue.

Was I dreaming, or was I awake? It all seemed so tangible. And so unreal at the same time.

Tucker shook me. Hard. Both hands clamping around my upper arms. I guessed I wasn’t dreaming after all. “Nick. C’mon, man. Talk to me. What’s going on? Is it Derek?”

His voice sounded as if coming from a dark tunnel. I nodded, unable to get a word out.

My friend closed his eyes and sighed.

I watched him. But it was like we weren’t in the same room. As if a glass wall stood between us. Still, his hands hadn’t released my arms.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands and inhaled. “I need to be there. With him. With Murielle. He’s on a ventilator. The docs say he won’t wake up—” Tears flowed freely down my closed lids, escaping to their freedom. My heart fractured in my chest, and the fragments of hope free-fell down to my feet. My lips quivered, and my palms turned clammy. And cold.

A wave of nausea hit me. I shut my eyes to calm the earthquake arising from the void inside me.

“Nick, I’m sorry—” Tuck dragged a hand over his face. “Man, you gotta pull yourself together. Be strong for Murielle. I’m there whenever you want. Whatever the time, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “I appreciate it.”

“Want me to drive you?”

I shook my head. Acid filled my mouth. I prayed for fresh air.

“No. I’ll walk. Better to tame down some of my emotions before I get there. It’ll take me only five minutes. I can manage. Else, I’ll implode. The night air will cool me down.”

Without another word, I strode out in the inky darkness toward the hospital, my insides knotted so tight they hurt, desperate to get my emotions under control before entering the room and facing Murielle and her dying son. They needed me. My courage. And my strength. A light breeze tickled my cheeks, cooling my burning eyes. “You can do this, Nick,” I said out loud. “Be brave.” My voice cracked.

Over the last few years, I’d seen Derek at his best moments—well, the best he could have, considering the illness—and his lowest. But, somehow, he hung in there, always awakening hope in me that he’d pull through this. Now I knew better. The brain tumor had won the battle. I’d felt it ten days ago when I went to visit. Murielle confirmed it. And the creepy feeling had clung to me since that day. When I went to see him yesterday after work, Derek was already asleep. I spent three hours by his side, hoping he’d open his eyes. In vain. Finally, Murielle pushed me out of the room at ten when I promised to come back on Thursday after work, both our hearts hemorrhaging with dreadful trepidation.

And now I would never get a chance to say a proper goodbye to my little friend. To hear him call me bro one last time or fist-bump me over cheeseburgers and sodas.

My legs grew heavier when the hospital came into view. I could do this. Time to be strong. Time to be there for those who’d welcomed me into their lives and shown me what strength was. I straightened my back, sucked in a breath, and approached the building, the feeling of dread growing stronger.