Tom

Tom rested both his hands against the oddly sticky counter and leaned forward into a deep lunge.

It was going to be a long night; he’d woken up stiff and tired, and no amount of stretching was limbering up those tense muscles.

Something about the turning seasons always did this to him. Spring ambling into summer, with the heat and humidity that would surely start filling his head. A thickening of mucus and shoulders that he used to ignore by sneaking beers with his friends and flirting with girls at the beach. One summer, they called each other the ‘Hermit Harbor Boys’ and tried to get the name to stick with the locals.

Those days seemed far away now, and embarrassing. The locals must have looked at them with scornful indifference; the poor, rude children of poor, rude dropouts. Kids of kids, raising themselves on the roads of the island. They weren’t wrong either, but back in those days, with the boys, he thought he was on his way to greatness.

Now, it was just sticky counters, solitude, and some underlying health issue that would probably get him in his fifties.

He didn’t even have Lucy to chat with. Hayden was his dayshift counterpart, and he was still giving him the cold shoulder.

Another lounge followed by a pop.

Football did a real number on you. Was it worth it?

It felt like it at the time. The icepacks, the hidden limping… it felt like it was for something greater. The approval of the men in his family, a potential scholarship, the girl…

In the end, he had none of that. Just the lingering pain.    

Rotating his shoulders, Tom looked across the store. Hayden was helping Daisy in the back, and there wasn’t a single customer between them.

How does this place even stay open?

It didn’t matter. It was merely a paycheck. When his parents started charging him rent, it was pretty clear he’d been spinning his wheels for too long. Maybe that $400 a month was tough love? Maybe they just wanted to push him out of the nest so they could watch him fly.

No, you’re just a burden.

Those were tough times. Prices were going up, and paychecks stayed the same. He was just a dumb kid, and even he saw it wasn’t sustainable. He’d have to find better pay or a second job. If he could help them out, maybe he could move the needle. Maybe he could prove he was worth a damn.

A smile crept onto his face. Cautious but present.

The door chimed.

Finally, a customer.

That fledgling smile faded when he saw the skinny man walking in.

Charlie.

The tanned young man scowled and nodded to Tom, who, for his own part, was too stunned to respond.

His eyes tracked the man he’d only ever known as a kid. A little twerp he would push in the hallway, someone he’d shout obscenities at, to raucous applause. The nerd who had a future, and the source of the first cracks between him and Becks.

What is he even doing here? I thought he was in Seattle.

Charlie picked through the snacks before grabbing a few drinks from the cooler.

Tom tracked him all the way back to the counter, where he set two sports drinks aside.

“Can you grab me some condoms?”

“What?” Tom asked, his mouth going dry.

Charlie motioned at the back shelf.

“Some condoms…there, by the cigarettes.”

The fucker is gloating right in your face.

Tom sighed. He’d forgotten they were back there.

“Right. Which ones do you want?” Tom asked, suppressing his disgust.

“That value pack there,” he said, pointing, “kind of fucked up they’re back here with cigarettes and scratchers.”

“State regulations. So kids can’t see them.”

Charlie scoffed.

“But there’s beer in the fridge over there. This country is going to hell.”

Tom agreed, but he was too busy fighting indignation to talk politics.

“Weird seeing you here.”

Charlie looked up, and Tom realized that was the first time he’d ever looked him in the eye. When they were in school, Charlie had always looked at the floor. He’d never met Tom’s gaze before. But now, in the moment, Tom could see how deep they were. Cold and blue, like an angry sea.

“Why?”

“Because you’d escaped,” Tom said with a shrug.

“Not everyone plays at life like a zero-sum game. I live on the mainland, but I still visit my parents.”

“Right, of course, and…”

“Yes, Becks too. We’re visiting her parents, then going camping for the weekend.”

“So, honors students get time off too, eh? Too many reps with the beakers and binders, you have to give those muscles a break,” Tom said with a smirk.

“Is that supposed to be a dig?”

A shockwave ran up Tom’s spine. He’d fallen right back into their roles.

“Sorry, no, just trying to be—”

“Funny?”

Those old roles they used to fill – they didn’t exist outside of high school.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m sure you and Becks are—”

“Like you have any right to speculate,” Charlie said, his eyes a turbulent storm. “After all the shit you put us through?”

“Us?” Tom asked, fiery blood forcing back reason. “Like I did anything worth…”

He took a deep breath. He had to be better than that.

“Seriously, you’re angry at me? After everything you put me through.”

“Well, I never stole your girlfriend, did I?”

He regretted it as soon as he had said it. Nevertheless, his heart beat loudly in his ears, a war drum keeping him going.

“You were broken up,” Charlie said. “You don’t own her.”

“And you don’t deserve her.”

“There you go again, zero-sum. I’m the enemy, and since I have everything that you don’t, it all must be my fault, right?”

Tom shook his head but didn’t speak.

“You’re not here because I’m happy,” Charlie said, index finger pointed at Tom’s heart.  “Just like how Becks isn’t with me because you cheated on her. You don’t have to be a loser just because other people are winning. I haven’t taken anything from you, and you don’t deserve any credit for the life we’re building.”

He knew Charlie was right. He wanted more than anything to say something… to mend something, to apologize… but his head was so full of hurt. His hands were shaking and his blood vessels coursing. Any admittance of guilt, any attempt to walk it back would be like…like…

Like a kind of death.

“You keep telling yourself that, little Charlie. I’ve seen the real you. I’ve stuffed bigger men than you in lockers. You’re a pussy and you always will be.”

Charlie’s eyes darted, as if he were back at school again. But it only lasted a moment.

Oh, you’ve done it now.

Charlie pulled out his wallet and pulled out a couple of twenties. He tossed the money onto the counter with a dismissive flick.

“I don’t get the impression you’re stuffing much of anything these days,” he said, picking up the bottles of sports drink. He tucked one bottle under his arm to free up another hand. “Can’t forget our electrolytes. We’ll both be needing them.”

He tapped the box of condoms against the counter and turned away.

Tom opened the register and shook his head.

“I’ll get your change.”

“Don’t need it. Put the extra towards your escape fund.”

And then he was gone.

Tom was once again alone in the store.

He looked across the store again, sure Hayden would be there, eavesdropping and ready to throw it all back in his face. But no, he was back there making pizzas, totally oblivious.

Somewhere out there, Charlie was about to tell Becks about how much of a bitch her ex was.

His legs were shaking under him—a physical manifestation of the nervous firing of signals and chemicals bombarding his fragile mind.

They laugh about it all night. About how he was still stuck on her. How he was still stuck on the island. The shitty man they’d both left behind, still rude and mean.

That’s precious…they aren’t talking about you. No one is talking about you. You’re invisible.

Tom tried to catch his breath, regret and shame tightening in his throat. He looked up again. Daisy and Hayden were chatting about something, unaware of the anxious mess happening at the front counter.

Tom turned and staggered into the office, shutting the door behind him.

On the other side, in the shadows of solitude, he let himself crumple.

His sweat-soaked back slid down the door as he lowered himself down to the cold, hard floor.

Why would anyone ever put up with you? So quick to anger…so petty.

His head ached, and even in that dark place, his eyes were full of sparks and flares. His broken heart pounded against his chest like an animal trying to escape a cage. Every beat sent pressure through those tense shoulders. Blood pooled against his brain.

How could anyone ever want him now? So broken and mean and…

Unfaithful?

Selfish was the word he was searching for. But, as he sat there panting on the floor with tears streaming down his face, the words in his head seemed suddenly foreign.

The harsh scraping breath in his chest a mask for the scratching he could faintly hear beneath the floor.