years gone

Blaze: Ha, how funny. I promise I won't puke.

Blaze: Just curious, do you think there will be fireworks there?

Blaze: Great. I have to warn you though, I may want to spend the entire time on the Tilt-O-Whirl. Does tomorrow night

sounds good? Maybe around 6?

Blaze: Of course! I'd love to. There's a carnival happening this week if you want to go.

Blaze: Well of course not.

Blaze: I'm guessing you want to do something?

Blaze: Oh... this is embarrassing. I'm so sorry.

Blaze: And, yes, I do live with my granny.

Blaze: Nice to hear your voice again. How are you?

Brooke: It's all right.

Brooke: I'm good.

Blaze: -answers- Look, I'm not interested in this reverse mortgage deal. I live with my granny.

Brooke: Good thing I don't know anything about reverse mortgages.

Brooke: Or regular mortgages.

Brooke: Maybe that's a bad thing.

“I have to agree with you. It sucks not being able to drink while on duty,” Blaze said with a chuckle, nodding his head slowly. He looked in the same direction that she was; he noticed his friend eyeing his new companion and making kissing faces towards him from the dance, but all Blaze did was casually throw him the finger, rolling his eyes at him. “Sounds like mine. Give him a drink or two and he turns into a performer, so I totally understand what that’s like.” 

All of a sudden, a loud banging from the speakers shook Blaze in his place. He whipped his body around frantically, accidentally knocking over the bartender’s drinks. He was gone for a moment; he knew that he should have listened to his grandmother when she begged him to stay home. Meeting the angry bartender’s face, Blaze quickly laid some bills down for him, saying a soft, “Sorry,” to him. Then he remembered that Brooke was still with him. Quickly, he thought of something to say. “It’s hot in here. Let’s take this outside where it’s cooler?”

Brooke laughed, her night being a little less sucky and lost now that she had found a friend who wasn’t abandoning her. “I dunno, this just isn’t my thing,” she sighed, motioning to the crowd. “I don’t like loud and tequila, I prefer quiet and wine.” She jumped when he did so, sympathizing. “Are you all right?” she cocked her head. She searched for words, looking back out to the crowd, then pursing her lips. “Actually, I’m kind of their designated driver, and I think I might drag them home soon so,” she said, her voice falling. “But, this is clean.” She handed him his jacket back with a smile. “Could I take a raincheck?” she asked shyly.

“That’s what I told him,” Blaze explained, “I guess returning home from the army means that I need a drink. Or two.” Nodding, he took a seat on one of the bar stools, noticing that his jacket was finally cleaned. “Afghanistan,” he told her, “Well, a week ago I was in D.C., but before that I was overseas. Now, I’m home.” He took a sip from his glass. “Who are Sydney and Drew?”

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Brooke covered her nail in the napkin, then sliding the edge along the creases in her new friend’s jacket. She raised her eyebrows, dropping what she was doing and staring at him. Speechless, she gawked for a moment, before dropping her eyes. “Wow. That’s incredible,” she told him, holding the jacket in her lap. “You deserve a drink.” Glancing towards the dance floor, she replied, “My friends. Best friends, actually. If you see anyone trying to crowd surf, that’s them.”

Blaze smiled and nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, Brooke,” he said, “So you’re not here by yourself? We’re in the same boat, then. My best friend just drifted off through the crowd somewhere.” He watched as her hands worked on his coat. “Neither do I,” Blaze said in agreement, “but my best friend thought that since I’ve returned home that I need a night of relaxation. I think he gets “relax” and “party” mixed up sometimes. He ditched me so he could find a lady friend or something, so here I am.” 

Brooke responded politely, “And you as well.” She wiped the napkin along one of the seams in the jacket, making sure to get the sugary drink out of there as well. She shook her head, “Your friend sounds a lot like Sydney and Drew. They’re off in a different boat while we’re here in this tiny one.” She laughed, her eyebrows raising. “I don’t think this is the place to be if you want to relax,” she said, stating the obvious. “I guess that’ll keep him occupied. Where did you go?”

Nodding, Blaze led her to the far end of the bar away from the loud crowd. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed, holding out his hand to shake on it, smiling at her slightly. He took a seat and helped her with the stain on his jacket. “So,” he said, breaking the moment of silence, “what are you doing here by yourself? I mean, you seem like you are by yourself.” He smiled a little wider towards her. “I’m Blaze, by the way.”

Brooke nodded and smiled, also relieved to be away from some of the noise. “Good!” she chirped, vigorously shaking his hand. She placed the jacket in her lap, politely asking the bartender for some napkins and a glass of water. He disappeared, and the young man caught her attention again. “I’m Brooke,” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh, my friends are around here somewhere. They kind of abandoned me,” she said, looking around at that thought. “I don’t really club, or anything, but I said I would for Halloween.” She dipped the napkin into the cold water, gently swiping where it was sticky on the leather. “Are you here alone?”

Blaze chuckled softly. “No, no it’s all right,” he assured the girl, “Don’t worry about it.” He waited as she started to clean his jacket, gently pushing drunk dancers out of their area. He slipped his jacket off once she finished, wrapping it around her waist. “That should cover it up until you get home,” he told her over the loud boom of the bass. “How about I buy you a drink?” he asked, smiling at her once she finished. He leaned against the counter and waved to the bartender. “No trouble at all.”

Brooke stopped dabbing at his jacket, smiling shyly and trying to see his face in the dim light. She didn’t know quite what to say next, but he then took off the leather and wrapped it around her waist. She looked down, the sticky stain mostly covered, holding the jacket instead of tying it. “Well, I mean, I guess....” she fumbled, still worried about the fabric, to be honest. “You can buy me a drink, if you let me clean your jacket.” It was a weird proposal, but it seemed fair to her.

“Well, don’t-” Blaze protested as his best friend walked off. He hated when Tristan did this; this had been a routine deal since the two were best friends in Kindergarten, so he should have been used to it. Blaze stood alone, lurking and glancing around at the crowd of people dancing. He usually never went to clubs, especially since he returned home from overseas, but Tristan wanted him to get out and stop being such a hard ass all the time. Oh, and to find a lady. There was also that. 

As Blaze found a perfect place close to the bar to stand, he felt a cold splash of alcohol hit him on his lower back. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, “no, no it’s fine, I promise.” He turned to face the girl who had ran into him, and gave her a half smile. “This jacket is so old, a stain of alcohol won’t hurt it,” he said over the music as he took a few napkins from her, “I think I’ve had my fair share of this worn out fabric.”

Brooke tried to see over the crowd, but it just didn’t work. Now she panicked, snatching napkins and ignoring the stranger’s shrugs. She wiped at his jacket, the man towering over her, trying to see the stain in the dim and pulsing lights. “I’m sorry, it’s going to smell like a fake fruit bowl now,” she whined, scratching behind her ear. “Don’t taste it,” she warned him quickly. “But let me help you clean it off - I know how to get rid off the gross.” She tucked more hair behind her ear, still avoiding looking at the man’s face. “I’ll buy you a drink, too, and-” She trailed off, noticing her dress. Her jaw fell, gently touching the fabric. “Oh...crap...”

I already miss the puppies.

Puppies?! You had puppies? Well, not you, like, yourself gave birth to puppies. But you had a dog that had puppies? Where are they now?

“Listen, listen!” They exclaimed with a giggle, eager for their story telling.  “So my friends and I were practicing footie, like 30 degrees out, coach is in a bad mood because he hates the heat, why he was in Australia, I don’t know, honest. But anyways I get the ball passed to me an’ I’m runnin’ with it, nothing nicer then getting a sprint going, let me tell you, and I go to pass it and lose control of the thing. It goes flying and hits coach just as he goes to have a sip of gatorade and the best part is that it’s red. Naturally the gatorade goes everywhere drenches his white shirt and it kinda looks like blood but not really because red gatorade is more like the primary colour, like candy apple red, and he’s pissed but we’re basically hysterical, laughin’ it up. In the end he made us run, like, twenty laps around the field.” They ended, cracking up as though the whole story itself was a comedy shoot. 

“Okay,” she said, holding back a giggle as they burst into story. She listened intently, a faint smile on her face as she listened intently, her lips parted in concentration. She pulled a curl away from her face and tucked it behind her ear, their story growing by them babbling on. She let out a shout of laughter, doubling over and holding her hands to her chest, her eyes crinkling. She held her face as she grinned, “Oh my God, that’s unbelievable. And gross? He must’ve been so sticky afterwards. At least running is good for you.”