People Can Say All They Want

“Yeah, I’m good Johnny. Glad we got the book done ―

“― Um-er yaa, yeah I’ll be back tomorrow morning I just have something tonight ―

“― Sure, sure okay see you then.”

Tommy hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket. Experiencing the cosmic scene of flaming leaves and afternoon Sun and sat back on the park bench. Looking left, he locked eyes with his best friend Coop. 

“I know what you are going to say, Coop. I did it again.”

Coop was emotionless.

Tom continued, “Weird, isn’t it? So weird… I know ― knew those people and I just feel like I’m about to give a speech. Sick, butterflies, all that. They are just people….”

Coop turned his head a little, appearing to have shrugged, maybe suggesting there was nothing to worry for Tom. That really he was just overthinking. 

Tom looked down at his sandstone shoes, the decorative leather, the minuscule semi-circle patterns scattered on the heel and toe. His eyes eventually gravitated to his fine pinstriped pants, the way they really fit his slender calves and thighs. Seeing as he made it halfway, he took the time to analyze his sport coat that did match so well, the midnight navy tie that hung so freely, and above all his hands. 10 long digits coated in a confused olive spray for skin wiggled and bent as though they had no owner. 

“We’ve come a long way Coop. How did I get here, I don’t know… Well, I do know. It’s simple but I make it complicated ― Why, Coop? Well….”

Tom blanked out as he noticed the J-like scar that had been trench in his middle finger’s knuckle since Sophmore year when he punched a coach’s son in the face. 

“What am I doing?” cried Tom ashamedly, “They are just people right? Like me. Why am I ― They won’t notice either way what I do. There was 207, 210 in our grade Coop? Only about 50, if that, may show. So what am ―.

Tom’s subconscious had silenced him once again. It remembered and relived those moments. It flickered all the times of sleepless nights and aching thoughts that for some reason only convened at bedtime until now. Like a devil on his left shoulder, it proudly displayed why Tom was who he right now. What pushed him to be.

Tom despised it. 

Shaking his head, “Grow up, Tommy. It was effing high school.”

After seconds of just being present, Tommy knew to get up and call over Coop, “Come on boy, let’s get some food.”

Coop’s ears sprang up like rockets while he jumped up and danced on his four furry legs.

“So now I have your attention,” smirked Tom, “I gotta stop talking to you like that….”

----------------------------

Each step Tommy took was either too long or too short. He felt naked though he of course was not. He calculatedly dressed casually, a pair of khakis topped with a navy nudie. The night rang with fanning leaves and howling sounds as he went straight, then right, jaywalked an intersection or two, and ended up at the front of his old high school. 

Just in front of the entrance sign, he nodded and tucked his lips, “Well eff me huh?”

He followed the rectangles of concrete into the lobby, warmly greeting himself with heated air and refreshing incandescent light. It smelled like school. Circtrius floor cleaner and that odd asbestos scent. 

“Tommy?”

“Jesus Christ,” he spoke in his mind. He hadn’t even reached the gym yet.

Turning, he broke a bright smile, really, a truly charming smile, “Hey my guy what’s up!”

Tommy actually had no idea who this plump man was. He was bald and had a gross pirate-like beard.

“I never would’ve thought you come to something like this!”

“You know I was in town and it doesn’t hurt to see what’s up.”

“Parents still on Robin?”

“Yup, I just came from there.”

“Nice, nice….”

Tommy almost laughed out aloud at the blatant awkwardness. This guy could’ve been a former teacher, guidance counselor, hell even the janitor he smoked weed with after basketball practices.  

So Tommy did was he does, patting the man on the shoulder and escorting him, “Let’s check in my guy. See what everyone else is up to.”

Reaching the front desk, an old man, very old, borderline could die at any moment cracked a grim at Tommy, “Tommy Erenic. My old Econ student. How are ya?"

“Holy shit, that’s Mr. Fresene,” again spoke Tommy mentally, “that guy rounded my 76 to a 90. He was a complete degenerate gambler. Like Michael Jordan bad.”

“I’m great Mr. Fresene. You still follow the Bulls.”

A croaking chuckle painfully cracked, “Oh no, no Tommy I’ve retired from those days. That’s to that help,” he winked, “I was able to retire just a year after your graduation.”

“Oh ya, I gave him “inside NBA picks.” Really just those pro-gambling calls you can pay for. That’s how I got my 90. That's how bad he was.”

The man turned to the other man, “Ah Benet. How’s everything?”

“Damn! That’s Benet Wilson. I remember I gave that kid his first beer after freshman year! He loved football but sucked completely. I think he shattered his knee cap or something. Wow, he’s aged.”

Mr. Fresene handed them each a card with their table number and seat. He pointed them into the gym and they followed. After two slapping reunions, Tommy couldn’t help but remain focus in his own cognitive world. 

“Ah, this gym still sucks. Cheap wood floor and gross lighting. I’ll never forget basketball. Damn,” Tommy’s mood dropped, “Yeah that sucked….”

Right away, the gym’s energy was lively. Fresh full of smart-talk, catch-up, and the “how is everything” charade. This is one reason Tommy did not want to go. To his surprise though it seemed a large amount of the class had shown up, at least half, if not 3/4s were there. 

As awkward as their conversation, Tommy slowly extended his strides, gave a quick neck turn, a nod, another nod, and just so happened to have distanced himself from Benet. He then instantly regretted the decision seeing as almost everyone followed into a clique of conversations.

 “Some things never change. It’s always groups, labels. I’ve never understood it.”

Bobbing and weaving through the aisle of people and tables, Tommy acting once again, walked as though he had a destination. It never occurred to him until now what actually was planned for the evening. Dinner? Guest speaker? Striding across half court, he made the impromptu decision to go to the bathroom and wait for something. Well, until ― 

A voice whispered, “Is that Tommy?”

“You would know if you asked.”

 “Tommy!” piped up the now cheerful voice.

The smile on, “Holy shit! Connor my guy!”

“Hey man what’s up? I’ve heard you’ve made a name for yourself. Our little brothers still hang out. Jacob is really proud”

“Nothing really. Numbers here and numbers there. I do what I do ― Yo Maggie? Damn, Billy?”

A trifecta of more past relationships entered into Tommy’s fold. 

“Hey Tommy,” each greeted at a time. Maggie, an auburn-curly hair girl seemed particularly interested in Tommy’s eyes. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed in his head, “I give it maybe a minute before Maggie brings it up.”

Always good with heading control, Tommy continued with Conor’s turn, “This place is still a piece of shit isn’t it?”

Billy, a blonde crew-cut boy with a patchy beard laughed as Connor replied, “Bad memories I think we both can agree. Did you ever talk to Pearson after that?”

“No, no. I blockade bridges rather than burn them. Looking back at it, the benching and blatant nepotism really means nothing ―

“Screw that. That idiot wasted my senior, treated me like a used condom in exchange to pump his son’s minutes. I was all-conference. I was top of ― ... chill Tommy boy.”

“― in the scheme of things.” Tommy turned to Bill now, “And my guy Billy how are things?”

Billy laughed a little more, “Alright Juice, just working sales for Toyota and doing my thing. I’m old now.”

“Oh, shit my nickname was Juice? I forgot why. I hope not because of something O.J related.”

“You’re only 25? You’re chilling Billy.”

“Well, not like you Mr. Businessman.”

Tommy hated that comment but chuckled, manners were always key and Billy always meant well. 

Maggie looked to talk now, “You did always talk about how you wanted to travel and be rich when we dated.”

“Bingo was his god damn name-o. Maggie was a good girl but give it up already. Being rich and wanting to travel is not exactly an original dream.”

“Maggie that was like seven years ago,” Tommy joked, but really wasn’t, “I assume you became a teacher?”

Maggie nodded empathically, “Yes. I teach downtown at a public school. Jefferson. Pay is good and my co-workers are good. None are you like you though,” she flirtatiously added. 

“Cool….”

THUD, THUD!

“He-hello,” microphoned a fragile figure from the entrance, “Ah, class of 2020 it’s nice to have you back. I hope you have enjoyed…”

“Is that? Mrs. Tracy. Yikes has she aged. She looks like Professor McGonagall. I’ll never forget how she blamed me for Mrs. Lindhood. That teacher hated me from the start. Probably ‘cause I bagged on math but she still had no respect for teaching. None. Gave no motive. Just wanted to clock in clock out. That conference ― interrogation really. Do I wish I had let that pig loose? Hell ya! But still….”

“... So sit down everybody at your tables and the dinner will begin.”

Like cockroaches in light, everyone dispersed and headed to their respective seats. Tommy taking his, counted off the names of everyone. 

“Connor, Maggie, Benet ― lol ― Flo, damn that’s a bigass beard, Sarah, wow she still looks stunning ― ah the baseball dugout… good times.”

Tommy looked around even more. More names came to him. Isaiah, a former teammate who would go out drinking with him after games. Lily, another estranged partner who threw a brick at his car during their breakup. Bo, science lab partner, Frank, the class drug dealer, Clare, the valedictorian. Last names were never his thing. 

On and on Tommy was naming names and linking thoughts. It was odd seeing everyone grown, mature, and different but really the same. Kids like Zach and that baseball group seemed to be still in close quarters. Maggie still had her fruitless crush. Frank looks bloodshot and lucid as always. And Tommy ―

“Well, I never felt right here. This, this was a very pointless event now that I think about it. Just old conversations with old people. A pointless story. I’m sorry. I had more joy with myself than any conversation here. All small talk, all catch-up… forced.”

Just as a bowl of soup was placed before him everyone began conversing. Starting with, of course, Maggie.

“So Tommy I here a book is coming out? Is that true?”

“Am I coming off arrogant? Yeah, but why am I like news to these people? Funny I wasn’t like this back in the day.”

“What do you do?” asked Flo with a mouth-full of clam-chowder.

Tommy kept up his charm, “I did investment banking but it was… a tedious career, good money but not me. I used my earnings from that to travel, kind of like Anthony Bourdain but not nearly as good, and now I’m writing a book ― well another,” Tommy added accidentally under his breath.

Flo seemed way more intrigued by the clam bits in his spoon which Tommy greatly appreciated.

“Tommy effing Erenic,” applauded a man from the table directly behind, “Who would’ve thought?”

“Me….”

Tommy looked over his shoulder, Nate, a big lardy man sat with heavy elbows on the table engulfing a caesar salad. Tommy did not respond until Nate pressed on, leaning back on his chair and coming within inches of Tommy’s ear “Little Juice… Juicy loosey… has made some money. I hear you’re doing well?”

“Seeing as my pants cost more than your entire outfit… it gives me pleasure.”

“I’m doing me, Nate,” smile Tommy, “Just living, working all that.” 

Nate again followed his fat cocky tone, “I’ve learned you hit big at some fancy New York firm the other year. 6? 7 figures?”

“I take care of myself as best as I can.”

“And then you walked away?”

“Yup….”

“Seems kind of soft ― well, you were never the confrontation type at least… until you knocked that kid out. Actually though, how did it feel to genuinely show something? Not very you was it?”

“This guy still lives like it was 2020 just yesterday. The black lash, gossip, absolute waterful of social exclusion I got summarized everything I knew but they would never. A pin-point act out of emotion. I’m not like that anymore but who cares. Actually, who really would?”

Tommy laughed and smiled, never expressing a taste satisfaction for Nate, “Well, I was young, arrogant, all that. Pretty funny though how I only got a week off.”

“But still….”

“You’re right my guy but I can’t change it right?”

Nate coughed and leaned back into his chair’s place, “True, true… still though. Doesn't it get to you? Just a little?”

Tommy's hypothetical, thought, intrigue, was proven right there. There was no need for further comment, an expression, nor an excuse. Moments later, after the main course had come, Tommy got up, walked to the doors he had entered through, and continued his decision all the way home. 

-----------------------------------------

“Home early Thomas?” called his mom. 

“Yeah,” he answered as entered the living room, “It was alright. You know, small talk, meet and greet, blah blah.”

“You always hated that. Shallow and empty I believe you call it.”

Tommy headed towards the family sofa where a furry pillow curled, wagging its tail. Tommy sat down and Coop sat down onto Tommy’s lap, “How are you, buddy?”

Coop was panting, smiling really, and began licking Tommy’s hands, his collar, and soon his face. 

“Did you have a good evening Coop?”

“He ate the cake we baked you!” scowled Tommy’s mom from across, “The whole thing! He hasn’t left that sofa in hours!”

“Is that true buddy?”

Coop shrugged or maybe he simply just blinked.

“That’s my boy,” embraced Toomy, “That’s my guy.”