The Fling

69

Brian returned to our table at Mother, a bar on Queen Street, with a tray full of drinks. "Next round is on you, rich guy," he directed at me. "How come drink prices keep going up? It's insane."

"This place is known for being expensive, but it's small and dark so our celebrity friend can lay low," Ian stated before taking one of the glasses. When we each had one, he held it up. "To years of friendship!"

I forced a smile on my face and clinked glasses with my closest friends from long before I'd become famous. They'd stuck by me through everything, and even if my spirits were low, it felt good to be sitting with them in this bar. Abigail was ever-present in my mind, though, and as I took a long sip of my smoked bourbon and ginger beer, I wondered what she was doing at that moment. Given the time difference, she was probably having dinner with the kids. And Bert. I felt my cheeks flush at the thought of him sitting across from her making small talk like they had when they were married. I knew she would never take him back, but that didn't prevent me from hating him for being with her when I couldn't.

"You okay?" Matt asked me. "You look pissed."

"Sorry. I got lost in thought for a second there."

"Was it about Abigail?" Brian asked.

I nodded. "It crossed my mind that she's probably sitting at the dinner table with her ex." I'd filled them in on the situation when we gathered at my condo to do shots of tequila before walking here.

"You need to let go of the jealousy," Ian told me. "You mentioned that the situation is temporary, so don't dwell on it if you trust her."

"That's easier said than done. I absolutely trust her, but not having any contact is making me crazy. We haven't talked in six days, and I'm scared that she's getting over me before we're even officially broken up."

"Dude...she loves you. That's not a possibility. She's probably sitting around worried about what you're doing right now and missing you," Brian speculated.

Three rounds later, I was feeling the alcohol. I smoked more than I drank these days, so booze hit me harder than it used to, and numerous jokes were made by my friends about how I'd become a lightweight after I slurred a few words.

"Do you guys wanna be dads?" I queried. "Like do you think about it?" All three of them were in serious relationships, so it seemed like a logical question.

Brian answered first, "I'm still doing everything I can to prevent it from happening, but eventually I want a little ginger-haired baby, yeah."

"Truthfully, as fucked up as the world is right now, sometimes I question whether bringing another life into existence is a good idea," Ian countered. "I'd never judge anyone for procreating, but I've got personal reservations about it for myself."

Maybe I needed to adopt this mindset. If I got on board with it, the whole baby issue wouldn't matter, I could marry Abigail, and everything would be perfect. "Tell me more about why you feel this way."

"You sure you want me to go into this right now? It's pretty heavy."

"I need you to explain because maybe it'll change my mind," I stated firmly.

"Okay. Well to start, there's been an increase in racism and nationalism worldwide, which I'm worried will lead to more conflict and terrorism. Don't even get me started on mass shootings. Those used to be an American thing, but now it's happening here, just not to the same extent. What if it keeps getting worse? I don't want to live in fear that my child might be shot."

"Those are good points," I replied.

He continued, "Putin scares me. How close are we to World War III? I was talking to my parents and they said it feels like the Cold War all over again. The Israeli-Hamas war is horrible, and even if it isn't an immediate threat to us, I can't help thinking about the children dying. It's all so fucking bleak."