He suggests Poor Richard’s, but Darryl says no, he has something else in mind. So he ends up sitting in the back of some small place across town, nursing a beer and watching Darryl play on stage. He’s heard him talk about it before, but this is the first time he’s seen him in action; its Darryl times ten as he winks, smiles, and makes up a love song for every girl staring up at him. He can hear the table next to him, a group of women, exclaiming about Darryl’s dimples; he glances over at them to get a better look, but one matches his gaze and smiles. He looks away.

Once Poor Richard’s was shot down and he realized what Darryl meant by “let’s go out”, he tried to get out of it, to no avail. He tried every excuse he could think of, and Darryl shot them down one by one until he finally met his gaze, steadily, and said, “We are going”. Something about the way he said it made him finally relent, nodding his head and trying to match Darryl’s smile. But then he thought about her and it faltered. He thinks about her again now, as Darryl calls out another name and begins a new song, catching his eye and winking, nodding to the woman at the next table still looking in his direction, her gaze burning into the side of his face.

----------

They had gone to the same school for years, but he didn’t notice her until late in the fall of their senior year. He was exiting the cafeteria when he nearly tripped over her bag resting at her feet; he would have mumbled something and kept going, but something about her caught his eye. She was sitting alone at a table near the door, her arm curled protectively over what looked like a notebook – and she didn’t seem to notice him. He paused.

“Sorry about that.” She glanced up, and the spell she had been under was broken; a blush crept up her cheeks, blooming from the collar of the red turtleneck she wore.

“Oh, that’s okay…I shouldn’t have it on the ground for anyone to step over.” She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. He felt rooted to the spot.

“No problem…Pam, right?” She nodded, and he could feel her swallow as she looked up at him. He looked to the empty chair next to her, raising his eyebrows.

“Ummm…do you want to sit down?” He pulled out the chair and sat, as she moved aside what she was working on.

“Is that homework?” She smiled, slightly, and he began to feel nervous for some reason, shaking his leg under the table. If she noticed the gentle vibration, she didn’t say anything.

“No…it’s just a drawing. I draw.” He reached toward the book, and she reluctantly let him pull it out from under her elbow.

“Wow, this is really something.” It was a drawing of the high school – she captured all of the weathered brick and aging trees on the grounds perfectly. Small clusters of students were milling around the doorway, and he could even recognize a few from the little details she added.

“It’s not done, or anything…” She seemed embarrassed.

“Who cares? I think it’s great already. I can’t do any of that artsy stuff.”

“It’s just a hobby.” She pulled the book from his hands, closing it and putting it into her bag before he could say anything else. He suddenly felt tongue tied, unsure of what to say. He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Do you like football?” She laughed, and his leg took up its cadence under the table again.

“I guess. I’ve never really been to a game.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’ve never felt the urge to go.”

“You should go to the one on Friday night.”

“I don’t know.”

“No, it would be fun…we’re playing a really bad team, it’ll be a good game.”

“If they’re a bad team, why would it be good?”

“Because we’ll clobber them.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Will you come?” He could hear the tone of his voice, desperate thinly veiled as casual.

“I suppose I could…no, wait, I can’t. I have other plans. Darn.” The last word was whispered under her breath, and it gave him hope.

“Oh. Well, actually, I’m going to a hockey game – an exhibition – with my brother the next night. Do you want to come? Is hockey another sport you’ve never felt the urge to go watch?” She smiled.

“It is…but I guess I could change my mind.”

“So is that a yes? Will you come?”

“Yes. So is this like…a date?” She was blushing again.

“Yeah.”

“Ok.” He stood up, nearly knocking the table over.

“Great” he started to walk away, but turned back. “I’m Roy, by the way.” She looked up at him, startled for a moment, as surprise and then something else he couldn’t quite identify passed over her face.

“I know.”

----------

Darryl starts a new number, an up-tempo song, but he remains lost in thought. He’s startled to realize the woman from the next table is now standing next to him.

”Becca.” She smiles at him, and she’s beautiful – but he can’t help but wish she would go away.

“Roy.” He looks away, trying to blow her off without saying anything.

“Want to dance?”

“Dance?” He looks over toward the small stage, and sure enough, there are a small group of people gathering, dancing as Darryl plays and sings.

“Yeah, maybe a dance would wake you up? You look distracted.”

“No…I don’t think so.” He meets her eyes and she studies him for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and walking away, joining her giggling friends. He sighs, watches the people dance. He doesn’t dance, anyway. Not much at all since high school.

----------

He ruined everything by leaving the game, the stupid game, without her. His brother was pissed off that he brought her in the first place, and their team was losing, so he finally gave in and angrily started to drive home. When he realized what he had done, he sped back, but it was too late; she was standing in front of the arena, arms crossed. The flush on her cheeks wasn’t from being charmed by him. She didn’t talk the whole way home, just muttered a good-bye and ran to her front door.

He managed to corner her in the hall the next week, and talked to her until she smiled again, dazzled by him. He dared to reach out, poking her side in a flirty tickle, and her slight giggle made him feel invincible enough to convince her to come to the football game that week, made her agree to meet him in the gym for the dance afterward. The first second chance she gave him.

He ran out on the field that Friday night and scanned the stands, finding her off to the side, sitting away from the crowd with another girl he didn’t know. He ignored the calls and smiles of the cheerleaders, half of them exes, as he waved to her and was delighted when she laughed and waved back. He couldn’t help glancing her way after every play, every time he made a good tackle. She was watching, and he noted with satisfaction that she looked worried after he got up from a good hit, shaking his head clear. Her smile when she realized he was alright made him see stars again.

He showered after the game, borrowed some cologne off of one of his friends before heading into the gym to meet her. She was leaning against the wall; her friend gone. When he saw her, he felt his face break into a grin. Her hair seemed to be everywhere, brown and curly, and her eyes seemed almost blue from the sweater she wore. He reached her and she smiled. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping the lining would absorb some of the moisture.

“You remembered me this time.” The gym was partially dark, so he couldn’t tell if her eyes were angry. He decided that they weren’t.

“I’m so sorry.” She laughed and patted his shoulder; the warmth of her hand penetrated the shirt he was wearing.

“It’s ok, really, Roy, you can stop apologizing. I was just trying to be funny.” It was the most words she had ever said to him at once, and he could tell that she was nervous too – she looked down at her shoes, twisting her heel back and forth as she leaned against the wall. A faster song started, and he felt brave suddenly. The confidence he normally felt around girls returned.

“Want to dance?” She looked around shyly.

“I don’t really dance…”

“Yeah, but this IS a dance. I’m no good either.” He tugged at her arm, and she hesitantly followed him to the outskirts of the dancing crowd.

He was surprised, it only took a couple songs for her to really give in, let loose. She looked him straight in the face and seemed to move so naturally – she made him feel like a better dancer. When a slower song inevitably started, he could see her hesitate for a moment, but he pulled her closer before she could protest. The feel of her head finally resting on his shoulder felt like victory – better than any football game he had won, better than any other girl he had convinced in his backseat, on the couch in his basement.

Taking her home that night, she let him walk her to her door. Standing there in the dark, he felt nervous again. But then she looked at him from underneath her eyelashes, and he leaned forward, kissing her for the first time. Looking up at him, the moon reflected in her eyes, she blushed and smiled. He kissed her again and promised to call her tomorrow. For the first time, he actually did, on the next day, just as he said he would.

----------

Darryl announces his last song, and the small crowd groans in protest. He begins to count the minutes until they can get out of there. He figures Darryl will want to set up a couple of dates with his more rabid fans, and then maybe he can convince him to leave. He decides to run to the bathroom, give Darryl a few minutes before he asks him to go. He should have insisted on two cars.

Washing his hands, he stares at his reflection. Since Christmas, he’s been getting even less sleep than usual, and it shows. The dark shadows under his eyes nearly match his beard. He splashes water on his face, rubs his cheeks and pats himself dry with a rough paper towel. He’s had the past couple of days off, but he feels like he’s been pulling doubles for weeks. Walking out of the bathroom, he can hear the overhead music and is relieved that Darryl is done. Then he spots him holding court in the corner with a table full of girls, catching his eye and waving him over. He sighs as he makes his way across the crowded floor. It’s going to be a long night.

----------

He took a job at a warehouse right out of high school, and she enrolled at a local college. He could tell she loved it, and she drew him for her art class on the weekends when they could see each other. He couldn’t stand sitting still for too long, so she would close her eyes, say that it was fine, her memory was good enough. After a year of seeing her on the weekends, either at his house or hers, fumbling awkwardly in the back of his truck some nights when they wanted to be alone, he asked her to move in with him. He knew he could still dazzle her with his grin, with a tilt of his head and a hard kiss; there were stars in her eyes when she finally consented, and she agreed that she should put school aside for awhile and find a job so they can get a decent apartment. At night, when they both got home tired from work, she still would sit down and draw him from memory in the tiny kitchen while he sat in front of the TV.

----------

Darryl introduces him around the group of girls; he doesn’t bother to remember any of their names. When he tries to pull him aside, Darryl shakes his head, makes an announcement.

“Ladies, you have to be extra nice to my friend Roy here, he’s still hung up on his last relationship.” A dozen eyes turn toward him and immediately soften. The ones on either side of him place warm hands on his arms. He could kill Darryl, sometimes. The blond on his right speaks.

“When did you break up?”

“A few months ago.” He can see Darryl mouthing “six” to her across the table.

“Awww, and you’re still missing her? How long were you together?”

“Almost ten years.” He can feel himself changing color under his beard. She digs her nails in, slightly, on his arm. He wants to pull it away.

“You poor thing. That’s practically a marriage!”

“She was my fiancée.” He practically chokes on the last word. He looks up, and Darryl meets his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead he leans over toward the redhead on his left, asks her to go change the song. Just like that, the subject is changed and they all begin to argue about what music is best to dance to; he is left with his thoughts once again.

----------

He proposed to her late one night in bed. He was on top of her, inside her, and it came out of his mouth just as easily as anything. He wasn’t sure she even heard him, and was relieved until he looked over at her afterward; sweat beading on her forehead, hair everywhere, a half smile on her face. At that moment, he decided that he didn’t want anything else but to spend the rest of his life with her.

“I meant what I said, you know.”

“What?”

“I want to marry you.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to marry me?” In the darkness of the room, the silence before her answer seemed longer.

“…Yeah. I do. I do, Roy.”

“Good.” He thought he could hear a smile in her voice, but his eyes are already half-closed and he didn’t bother sitting up, looking at her face in the dark and searching for what he felt he had already found.

He got up the next morning and she was already up, and he could smell pancakes in the kitchen. When he stumbled in, she was sitting there, reading the paper. A couple of jewelry store ads were on his plate, and they went and picked out something small that morning; they decided to split the cost since they shared every other expense.

Then they decided to tell their families that he proposed one morning over pancakes, by putting a couple of jewelry store ads on her plate. Everyone thought it was the sweetest story.

----------

The others are still arguing over music when the blonde turns to him again.

“So what happened?”

“With what?”

“With your fiancée? Did you end it, or did she?” He feels trapped for a moment.

“Uhhhh…”

“Well, since you’re the one standing here all depressed, I’m guessing that you are not the one that ended it, huh?”

“I don’t really want to talk about…” She pats his back, her eyes already moving around the bar, looking for someone new.

“I know, its ok. If you don’t mind, though, I’ll be right back.” She makes her way through the throng of dancing people, and he can’t help but think, thank you. Darryl’s watching him, a disappointed look on his face. Too many people look at him like that nowadays.

----------

He came home late one night, having spent it at the bar with Darryl, finalizing plans for the bachelor party. The wedding was in less than a week. He was half drunk as he walked back toward the bedroom, stopping in the doorway when he saw her, sitting on the bed in the dark. He put on the light.

“Pammy? What’s the matter?” He could tell she had been crying – and she started again as she looked up at him.

“Roy, I’m sorry.”

“About what?” He felt more than half drunk as he sat down next to her.

“We can’t get married.”

“What? Did something happen with the caterer? Or something else?” He realized that other than food and the band, he had no idea what else could go wrong with a wedding. He was about to find out.

“No, nothing like that. It’s me, Roy.”

“You?” He began to feel numb.

“Me. I just…I can’t.” She flinched a little as she said it, but it sounded final.

“You can’t?” He turned it into a question.

“I can’t.”

“Well, we can always push the wedding back.” She wiped her eyes, looked at him again and it was at that moment he lost her.

“I can’t do us. I can’t be with you.”

“What?” He could only whisper.

“Are you happy anymore, Roy?” He could barely hear her.

“I think so.” She smiled, sadly.

“You think.” He felt helpless. He wanted to convince her that he was happy, she was happy, THEY could be happy, but he felt blindsided, and he realized with a wave of nausea that that she hadn’t drawn him from memory in years.

----------

Darryl and all of the girls, having finished their argument, are all out on the dance floor. Darryl is in the middle of them all; he smiles as he watches Darryl choose which girl to pay the most attention to. A waitress taps him on the shoulder.

“Did you want another beer?” She smiles at him, a hand on her hip.

“Oh, no thanks. Can I just have a coke?”

“Sure. No problem.” She walks over to the bar, slowly. He knows that she thinks he’ll be watching her, and he is. She walks back and sets the drink in front of him, looking at him quizzically.

“Designated driver?” He takes a sip, tries to smile.

“Something like that.” He takes another drink, counts to ten before she walks away.

----------

She moved out on a Saturday, and he had been drinking since Friday morning. She doesn’t hug him goodbye like he thinks she might, give him that one last chance to hold on to her, keep her with him. Instead, she left in the morning and he was still drunk three weeks later. So drunk that he was pulled over late one night, a night when even Darryl couldn’t stop him from leaving. When he was at the jail, an officer asking him whom he wanted to call, all he could think of is her. He could tell by her voice that he woke her up, but within half an hour she was there, her hair thrown into a sloppy ponytail, her eyes red from either lack of sleep or tears. He cried in her car the whole way back to their, no, his, apartment, and begged her to stay the night with him. He could see her hesitate, but then she helped him into bed, took off his clothes; she even sat next to him and wiped his face with a cold washcloth and told him to sleep. By the time he woke up the next morning, she was gone. The only way he knew for sure that she was there was the glass of orange juice sitting on the nightstand.

That morning, he spent the time thinking of all the things that he was realizing she did, the things that were now neglected in her absence. He took a long hot shower and stood in front of the mirror and took in his bloated appearance. He decided he had to get himself together if he ever wanted to get her back.

He already had a few days’ worth of beard grown in by the time he ventured up to give her lunch that next week. He didn’t meet her eyes, and went to the gym as soon as his shift was over.

----------

Darryl comes back, smiling and thirsty from dancing. He grabs the coke, takes a long drink before looking at him appraisingly.

“So was this a bad idea?”

“Maybe.” Roy decides to be honest with him.

“You just…you have to get out there sometime.” Darryl looks at him, and he feels like he should maybe try for his sake.

“I know” a girl calls for Darryl, and he glances over his shoulder. “You should go. Dance.”

“I’ll be back.” He watches as Darryl dances over to the group of smiling women.

----------

He walked upstairs one day to get a soda, a lame excuse to see her once again, and found her looking completely different. He was taken aback for a moment, and recovered in time to compliment her. She smiled at him, almost sweetly, and said thanks. It gave him courage to rescue her the next week, making up a lie about her car to get her out of the conference room. They stood in the parking lot, and he nervously talked to her about unimportant things. He waited, and then mentioned something about his family in passing, and watched her face cloud over as an uncomfortable silence set in. He knew that she missed his family, and he had hoped it would open things up between them, but instead she excused herself back upstairs, taking half of him with her.

He heard about Diwali at lunch a few weeks later, and saw an opening. He walked into a department store after work, bought whatever the salesgirl said looked good. He trimmed his beard, splashed on the cologne that she always loved. Walking into the decorated high school gym, he saw her, dancing with some Indian guy. Her hair was down and she was wearing blue, and she was moving so naturally; the guy she was with looked like a great dancer, under her influence. He found that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He left before she could see him standing there, blinking away the memories of that first dance.

----------

Darryl comes back after a couple of songs, regards him levelly. He can tell he’s about to tell him something he doesn’t want to hear.

“Roy, we gotta talk.”

“About what?”

“You know what. Pam.”

“What about her?” He can feel the defensiveness creep into his voice.

“It’s been six months. I think it’s time you move on. I mean, at least TRY to move on. We go out, and you just sit there. I know you went through the rough time earlier, but look at you. You look good, you feel better, at least, physically. Something has got to give.”

“You know why I got myself together.” Darryl sighs.

“I know that. But look, you did all of this, and still, nothing. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“We were always…”

“Yeah, you were. Were. Listen,” Darryl leans forward, lowering his voice. “I know that you don’t want to hear this. Hell, I know I don’t want to say it. But there just comes a time when you have to acknowledge that sometimes, things don’t work out the way you want them to.” For a moment, Darryl’s breath comes out ragged, but he swallows and looks away, then continues staring at him.

“I know. I just…don’t know how.” Darryl raises a hand, pats him roughly on the shoulder.

“Maybe this is all for some greater purpose. Maybe she was just this great person who was meant to help you get your shit together. For someone else. Or whatever.”

“She was everything.”

“I know.”

“And beautiful. I never cared, never noticed how perfect she was.” Darryl snorts, laughs under his breath.

“Pam is great. She is beautiful. She’s not perfect. Just like you aren’t perfect. Hell, even I’m not perfect. Shock, I know. But have you noticed how much better she has been looking lately? I’m not going to say she wasn’t always great, but she has changed just like you have. For the better.”

“I guess.”

“I know. I mean, isn’t she even taking art classes or whatever? That’s why you got her that sketch book for Christmas.”

“That wasn’t the only reason why.” Darryl sighs.

“I know.”

“I’m working on it, Darryl. Really, I am.”

“I just wish you would work a little harder. Listen, I’m going to go back to the ladies over there. If you want to join us, then that’s cool. Otherwise, let me know and I’ll pack up my stuff and leave.” He gets up to go, pauses as he walks by him. “But just so you know, this is a free pass – next time, your ass is taking a cab home.” Roy smiles.

“Next time, you’re letting me take my own car like I wanted to.” He can hear Darryl laughing as he walks away.

----------

He had what he thought was the perfect present, safely wrapped in his car. She always loved Christmas, and this is the first time in years he went to more than one place to find her gift, a sketchbook he thinks is the same one she was drawing in all those years ago while sitting alone in the cafeteria.

He helped her set up a party in the break room, and she stood there talking about his mom and laughing like she would be seeing her soon. It all seemed so easy, and he couldn’t tell whether or not that was a good thing. Karen walked in and broke the spell, and he could hear her tell Pam she should date him as he awkwardly made his way out. He held his breath as he heard her say maybe. When he caught his breath again, his stomach tight from the effort, he nearly choked.

He found a moment, ran out before the party started, bought a cheap roll of wrapping paper and some tape from the dollar store nearby. Ripping off the comics from the sketchbook, he fumbled in the back of his truck, struggling; he couldn’t seem to stop at three pieces of tape as he wrapped the present over and over again. Hitting his head the window, he cursed, ran a hand through his beard. He thought back to other times in the backseat with Pam, unwrapping her until the windows were filled with so much steam the condensation ran like rain down the inside of the windows when they were finished. He didn’t care when he hit his head then. He straightened himself, tried to wrap it one more time; despite his shaking hands, he managed to only use three pieces. It took him ten more minutes to calm himself enough to go back inside.

She opened the present, gave him a hug in thanks. It was the first time she really touched him in months, and it made his stomach twist on itself. For a moment, she stood there in a red turtleneck holding a sketchbook, and he was seventeen again; nervous and too big for his own body. He had to will his leg not to shake, shoved his hands into his pockets.

Then she walked away, setting the book under her desk before rejoining the party. He had to swallow away the tears that pricked behind his eyes and rose in his throat, and then remind himself that she doesn’t belong to him anymore.

He gave it one more chance, and waited in the parking lot an extra half hour, hoping to see her come out. When there were only three cars left, hers one of them, he left. As he was turning the corner, he saw her walking out. She was smiling. He didn’t see the sketchbook in her hands. Four days later, he let Darryl convince him to go out.

----------

He watches Darryl dance some more, and notices a girl looking miserable in the corner. She looks like she’s doodling on a napkin; her drink sits untouched before her. She looks up and meets his eye, and he smiles; she blushes and goes back to what she was doing. He thinks for a moment, then gets up. He walks across the bar.

“Want to dance?” She smiles up at him.

“Change your mind?”

“Yeah. Becca, right?”

“That’s right…Roy.” As he leads her onto the dance floor, he catches Darryl’s eye. Darryl smiles.

Maybe everything happens for a reason. Maybe boys' night out wasn’t such a bad idea after all.