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Beau shrugged. What was he going to say, “maybe next time”? He cleared his throat. "What's up?"
"I thought we could go out for a beer."
"Yeah, a beer would be good."
John nodded. “It’ll take your mind off things for a while.”
Yeah, that did sound good. Grabbing the keys off the hook by the door, he locked the house and followed his best friend to his car.
"Please don't tell me you got back together with Lisa," John said as he started up the car.
Beau jerked his head around to look at his friend. “What? No. Why would you say that?”
"Well thank fuck for that,” John replied under his breath. More loudly he said, “I saw her leaving just as I pulled up.”
Oh.“She came to the funeral, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was for her to make an appearance here.”
John started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Well, let's go and get that drink.” Beau was thankful there weren’t any other follow-on questions. He didn't know what to say. Instead, he watched the buildings pass them by, cursing every stoplight because it was a whole thirty seconds more before he could have a beer bottle in his hand.
When they finally arrived at the bar, they were served quickly and found a place at a booth. "Tell me what's going on." John's words were final, leaving no place for Beau to run and hide.
"My head is a fucking mess."
John sucked back some of his beer. "Understandable. Your mom just died. Your entire world changed in an instant."
"I knew it was coming," he replied, fingering the label on his beer bottle. "I knew she was dying. I don't know how to explain it... I feel as if there's been this fundamental shift in my life, but it hasn't just happened because of my mom. It was before that."
They were both quiet for a moment.
John said, "I really am sorry I missed the funeral today."
Beau shrugged. "You came and visited her a lot. She knew you loved her."
"She was like a second mom to me," he replied with a shrug. He blew out a breath and sank farther into his chair. "How was it anyway?"
Beau mirrored his posture and relaxed back, bringing his beer with him. "I didn't fuck up the eulogy."
John raised his bottle. "To not fucking up the eulogy."
Beau felt his mouth pull up into a small smile—the first he’d managed in three days. "All of Mom's old work colleagues from the bank were there. I think there were at least a hundred and fifty at the service and maybe half that again at the wake."
"Your mom was a special lady," John murmured softly, staring at the bottle in his hands. "I'm going to miss her."
"Me, too," Beau replied, draining the rest of his beer. "You want another?"
"Sure, but then I'll have to go. I've got an early dinner with a client."
Beau picked up the bottles and wandered to the bar. A pretty Latina was busy pouring a drink down at the opposite end when he approached, but she gave him a nod to let him know he'd been seen. He leaned his hip up against the bar as he waited.
"What can I get you?"
"Two Buds, please." With a confident smile, she turned away but stopped when he added hastily, "And a double shot of bourbon—whatever bottle you grab first."
"You got it."
As he waited for his drink, he looked around the bar. Considering the time, it was strangely full. Who would’ve thought three o'clock in the afternoon on a Friday would be a peak time for drinking? Maybe people were starting the weekend early. Maybe they'd all just had a shit week like he had and decided to drink their sorrows away.
The beers and his bourbon were placed on the scarred bartop, but as he dug out his wallet, the bartender waved him away. "On the house."
