Great! I came here for nothing.
“We’ll do all that next week,” he continued.
Now, that sounds better. Let’s chat away.
“Let’s finish these and order another round, shall we?” he said and, without waiting for my approval, he gave a sign to the bartender for more beer. “Bottoms up?”
Now, that is the game I play well. We drained our glasses.
“I come here all the time. Hugh, the bartender, knows me well and doesn’t mind bringing drinks over when I ask him,” Jared said.
He definitely owns the place.
“Okay,” I said.
“They say it’s one of the best pubs in town,” Jared said, looking around.
“Never been here.”
“You’re probably wondering why we’re meeting here.”
“That crossed my mind. Yes.”
“Well, perhaps, you don’t know this, but I spent quite a bit of time overseas. Your family was good to my mom, and she was able to save some money so we could go to our relatives in the States.”
I didn’t remember any of that. Why would I? Jared was not in my circle of friends. He was not on the same level as me socially either. In fact, I didn’t think I had ever talked to him much when we were kids.
Hugh, a middle-aged man with tattooed hands and a goatee, brought our drinks and put them on the table. Jared just nodded to thank him.
“I didn’t really want to go across the pond because I enjoyed my time here. The little cottage behind the main house my mother and I shared and the time playing with the local boys and …”
“Charlie,” I ended the sentence for him.
“And Charlie. Right.” Jared smiled and lifted his second glass. “Here’s to your little brother.”
Jared took a hearty sip from his glass. I followed suit.
“There was just something about that boy,” Jared said. “He was so kind and …what’s the word I’m looking for here?”
“Gregarious.” I made my guess and meant it about my little brother.
“Right. Kind and gregarious.”
Jared emptied his glass. He was thirsty and I had no problems with that. I could be really thirsty if I wanted to. So I emptied mine as well.
“Now, could I ask you to tell me exactly what happened?” Jared said after a short pause. “I mean, I know the story, but I haven’t been to the house ever since I left when I was a kid. I heard it from my mother, and I read something in the papers, but it’d be great to hear it from you.”
Okay. So that’s what those two rounds were for – to soften me up and prepare for the sad story. It takes more than two beers to make me emotional. A delicious meal and a movie about little puppies in trouble might do a better job. Beer only makes me alert and curious. Well, up to three glasses that is. After that we either put the percentage of alcohol up a notch or we just keep at it until one of us cracks, goes to the bathroom, and breaks the seal.