"Okay, so seriously, how have you been?"
Julie sat next her former roommate on the porch swing, looking down at her beer.
As basic of a question as it was, she couldn't help but pause, stuttering for an answer.
.
Her dreams had come true.
Of all of the Ducks—for that matter, of all of the Eden Hall Warriors—she and Guy were two of the only ones who could say that. There had been no sick parents. No unexpected pregnancies. No career-ending injuries. No rejections from a league that ultimately decided they just weren't good enough.
Her best-laid plans really had come to fruition. Life really had turned out much the way that she'd hoped; those prayers made in the back of her parents' Ford Aerostar answered from the great above.
.
And, it was all…okay.
"I've been good."
"Sounds convincing."
"What? I have been." Julie insisted, looking back up at her old roommate as she took another drink.
"Well, yeah. I mean, I'd assume you've been good. But how are you really doing? Because you don't exactly sound enthusiastic…"
"I don't know. I'm fine."
Connie paused thoughtfully, running a hand through her flowing, chestnut mane. Considering whether to press the issue further, her eyes scanned the suburban lawn, and the boys clustered into their little groups, dotting the landscape.
Over by the barbeque grill, she could hear Goldberg and Russ arguing over the proper way to cook a steak, while down by the fire pit below, the Golden Boys of the Golden Gophers sat around, laughing as Charlie exaggeratedly re-enacted a goal he'd scored 20 years earlier.
"Some things never change, huh?" She smiled, shaking her head at the former Duck captain's antics.
"Nope. They sure don't."
"Come on, Mary Anne. You've never had a job."
Sitting back in her childhood bedroom, Julie turned down the TV. Though she didn't particularly want to, she couldn't resist the urge to hear what her parents were saying.
To peek into the unpleasant truths of their lives.
.
She'd spent enough time with various friends to understand that all parents fought. The only real difference was how they did it: Justin's mom was a crier; terse conversations reaching a crescendo as the waterworks began, and Mr. Mahoney stepping back in to make it all better, always there to comfort his wife, no matter how much they disagreed.
Connie's parents liked to yell; their shouting matches a July storm that would come without warning, and give way to the warm, baking sun just as quickly.
Kate's parents were easily amongst the WASP-iest in Bangor, and that carried right through to their arguments. Mr. and Mrs. Kemp didn't argue per se, so much as they displayed less enthusiasm while discussing the need to get the Volvo's oil changed. This could go on for weeks; their disagreements quietly simmering beneath the surface as Mrs. Kemp noted that John across the street had lost a couple of pounds, and that perhaps their family should try eating more salads, while Mr. Kemp remarked that the Hollinsworth family always looked really nice, and that Mrs. Hollinsworth certainly did keep a lovely house. And then, at some point, the ice would begin to thaw, and Mrs. Kemp would still comment that John's diet seemed to be working, and Mr. Kemp would still comment that the Hollinsworths looked nice, but this time, there would be no malice behind it.
As for the Gaffney's, well, they fell somewhere between the Kemps and the Moreaus. Tom and Mary Anne always left just enough unsaid for Julie to know that things were worse than they sounded.
.
"I think you're giving yourself a little too much credit here."
"See? This is what I'm talking about. Nothing is ever good enough, is it?"
"Well, if you'd just-"
"Shut up."
"Don't talk to me that way."
"Don't tell you to shut up? Would you prefer that I tell you to stop being such a nagging bitch?"
"Screw you."
"Just...go to hell."
Thumbing the volume button of the remote, Julie sat back in her bed, trying to decide whether she wanted to keep listening as their words carried through the walls. A few feet away, the 24" RCA shone; that night's South Park episode promising an escape from her parents' woes.
"So he's really retired, huh?"
Leaning back against the porch swing, it was more a statement of fact than a question—of course he was really retired. At thirty-six, he was a veritable dinosaur by hockey standards; a slow, aching brontosaurus left in a world of flying cars and vacations to Mars.
Still, Julie was now nearly two decades removed from the hockey world, and stuck in the professional world.
A world where colleagues often died before they retired.
"I know. It still feels so weird." Connie agreed. "You go seven years talking about how 'this may be the last season', and it doesn't even seem real anymore. It's like when you're a kid, and you hear your parents talk about 'this might be our last Christmas with Aunt Gertrude', but next thing you know, you're 25, and it's still Christmas with Aunt Gertrude. And then suddenly it's not."
"That's rough."
"It is." Connie nodded. "Like, I'm happy and all, but it's just…weird."
"So weird."
At a loss for what else to say about the situation, the two looked out over the deck railing, at the guys down below.
Sitting around the fire pit, Charlie still hadn't lost a bit of his enthusiasm for re-living his athletic feats from 20 years prior, the stories having only grown more impressive with the passage of time. He was now pantomiming a goal scored against The Breck School's JV squad back in 1997, reenacting every move with his imaginary hockey stick. Waltzing around his bemused audience, he deked left, deked right, and then in an accidental nod to reality, tripped over a rut in the lawn. Before anybody could do anything about it, he found himself facedown in Adam's lap, the blush in his cheeks hidden by an expensive pair of chinos.
Watching from above, Julie nearly spit out her beer at the sight.
"Okay, you know he's been dreaming of this moment since we were like, nine." Connie chuckled, thinking back to the way their favorite spaz always used to watch the Hawks warm up before games.
He looked like he wanted to make out with them in hopes of gaining their magical powers…
"You are such a bitch."
"You know I'm right."
"Well yeah."
Trying to contain their laughter, both girls watched as he tried to extricate himself from his former teammate's crotch, Guy glancing up at them with a nod of approval.
"A golden opportunity, and they blew it." Connie sighed as Charlie went back to his own lawn chair; the bromantic-blowjob ship having sailed off into the sunset.
"Or failed to."
"And I'm the bitch?"
"You're always the bitch."
Connie laughed, starting to take another drink before she realized her glass was empty. Getting up, she walked back inside for a refill, Julie following behind.
"So speaking of childhood dreams," She continued, opening the refrigerator. "How are you and Adam?"
"What do you mean 'how are we'?" Julie chortled, reaching for another beer herself. "We're friends."
"Just, I don't know."
"What?"
"You two are still weirdly adorable together."
"Eww!"
"How's that 'eww'?"
"Because he's married with four kids."
"I didn't mean like that!" Connie clarified, leaning against the Formica as she poured another glass of chardonnay. "I just meant like, you two still look comfortable together. I think you're good for one another."
"I mean, I guess?"
"You are."
Connie thought about going on. She thought about mentioning the fact that she was still friends with Bethany Callahan, who still lunched with Laura every Wednesday at the ECC, and that if third-hand accounts were to be believed, the guy outside humoring Charlie's Glory Days recap was probably the best version of Adam anyone had seen in eighteen years.
She thought about mentioning the fact that Julie herself looked about as happy as she had in awhile; her eyes finally moving with her face whenever she smiled.
Looking down at her glass of wine, though, Connie decided to drop the subject.
After all, Fulton and Portman were standing ten feet away, trying to figure out how to make a beer bong with a funnel they'd found in the cabinet.
"What do you want to bet that funnel is for like, motor oil and stuff?"
"Eww, seriously."
"Hey, I heard that!" Portman chimed in, still not abandoning his mission to find plastic tubing. As he rifled through Charlie's junk drawer, Fulton stared down at the stained plastic funnel and made a face.
"Dude, they're probably right."
"Whatever. You sound like Megan or something." Portman retorted, not looking up from the drawer full of odd rubber bands and misplaced markers.
"Megan's probably the only reason you're not dead yet, dumbass."
"You callin' me a dumbass?"
"Sure am. Dumbass."
"Cocksucker."
Before long, Fulton had his old Bash Brother in a headlock, Portman flailing around as the girls went back outside.
"Do we look that dumb to guys, or is that like, a one way thing?
June 29, 2000
"Ugh, can't you losers help clean?" Julie complained; a broom in hand as Shawn and Tim sat on the sofa, playing Tomb Raider and coating the rug in a fresh layer of Dorito crumbs.
"Why'd we do that?" Tim mumbled, never looking up from the screen.
"We're having company!"
"We aren't having company. Tim and I aren't tryin' to get laid."
"You're always trying to get laid, asshole."
"Yeah, but not by dudes."
.
Despite the fact that she had made it very clear that she and Adam were no longer a thing, and despite the fact that she'd repeatedly reminded herself and everyone else within a 9,000 mile radius that there was absolutely zero chance that they were going to get back together, she'd decided mid-June that Adam should come spend a few weeks in Bangor before the craziness of college hockey began...a decision that Adam didn't argue with at all.
.
"Yeah, how come you get to have your boyfriend come move in, anyway?" Shawn chimed in, reaching over for the 2-liter of Mountain Dew that he'd decided to commandeer for himself. In the background, the familiar video game music continued to play, leaving Julie to wonder how she could possibly be related to such idiots.
"He's not my boyfriend, and he's not moving in!"
"Mom and Dad won't let Kelsey stay over."
"Kelsey's a skank."
"So?"
"So she lives a block away." Julie reminded him, shuddering at the thought of her hygiene challenged brother and Kelsey, the beauty school dropout who now worked at a bowling alley. "There's no reason for her to stay over."
"Whatever. That's bullshit."
"You're bullshit."
"Dumbass."
"Tard."
Picking up a dustpan, Julie resumed her work, making a mental note to wait until Shawn had left for his job at Pizza Hut to attempt vacuuming the living room.
"Not that it will do much good." She thought, her eyes focused on a threadbare section of sofa that had been patched with embroidery floss five years prior. Stuffing now showed through the stitches; bits of beige foam sticking out in puffs.
"Dude, you know you're trying to get in my pants."
"Whatever."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of."Adam chuckled. "Just ask Laura. I'm totally the best she ever had."
Ten minutes after the lap incident, Adam and Charlie were still ragging on another; twenty declarations of 'no homo' having given way to a debate about who wanted to suck who's dick. Happy to stay out of the debate, Guy focused on roasting his marshmallow, determined that this one would avoid the fiery fate the last two had succumbed to.
"Pretty sure you're the only one she's ever had."
"Well, yeah. That's why I told you to ask her. Small sample sizes are key here."
"You would know about small things, wouldn't you?" Charlie smirked, reaching down for his beer.
"The way you'd walk around the locker room? We all got to learn about small things."
"Screw you."
"You're not really my type." Adam pointed out, giving his friend a contrite shrug. "I'm afraid your attraction is a one-way street."
"You're such a fag."
"I'm not the one trying to get in my lap."
His marshmallow finally toasted to perfection, Guy rejoined the conversation just as a billow of smoke started to shift his way. His eyes watering, he shifted closer to the other two in a bid to escape the blowing ash.
"Come on, Cakeeater." He chided. "You know that was the most action you've gotten in months."
"Well yeah. No shit." Adam agreed. "Just because I'm Laura's best doesn't mean she's interested."
"That's weirdly sad, bro."
"Meh, 18 years of this mediocrity?" He shrugged, leaning back against the lawn chair. "I think she's handled it pretty well!"
"Self-esteem really isn't your thing, is it?"
"Nope."
"Heh, you might try it sometime. I hear good things about it."
...
"That's...going to be a lot of togetherness."
Connie and Julie sat back on the porch swing, the realities of Guy's retirement still sinking in. Connie just nodded, taking another drink.
"So. Much. Togetherness."
"That Introduction to Family Relationships class really left some stuff out."
"No kidding!" Connie laughed. "Damn you, Mrs. Johnson. Three weeks on how to work together to pick paint colors, and nothing on this?"
"Yeah, but I've seen the pictures of your house on Facebook." Julie smiled, curling her legs up underneath her as she watched the sunset in the distance. "You totally have the whole greige thing mastered."
"Five houses, and the same shade of greige has worked every time."