Finding Sunshine (2 page)

I’m suddenly warm all over.

It's time I start living again. I may never deserve sunshine the likes of Nina, but I don’t need to keep punishing myself, either. I need to follow through with my New Year’s resolution of ‘getting my head out of my ass.’

I’ve punished myself long enough.

I need to make some serious fucking changes in my life. I’m done putting my life on hold and living in limbo. If I'm being honest, for whatever reason, I haven't been motivated enough to make a change.
That changed this morning.
Sunshine came back in my life, if only for a moment, and I saw things clearly for the first time in months.

My parents, God rest them, are probably rolling over in their graves. I have a degree I’m not using, and a life I’m not living. I’m stuck in a rut that I need to crawl my way out of. I don’t want to be working for and cleaning up shit for people I don’t like or respect. What I’m lacking is a sense of direction,
purpose
.

God, what’s happened to me?
I’m standing in the middle of a
Starbucks
having a mid-life crisis. Maybe not a crisis exactly, but a fucking epiphany.

Grabbing my surprisingly delicious coffee, I reach into my pocket again and dig out my phone. I suddenly know what I have to do.

I need to formulate a plan, but first I need to seek advice from the one person I’ve always been able to count on.
Even if it’s something I don’t want to hear.
With his texts this morning, I know Richard isn’t holding my radio silence against me. I haven’t pushed him away, like I know I’ve done with people in the past. With a few taps on the screen, the phone is ringing in my ear.

“Hey. No need to call my sister, I’m alive. Call me,” I say, leaving a message.

I walk out into the cold feeling more alive, and warmer, than I had earlier.

~::~::~::~

I enter into a nearly-deserted
Champions
and quickly find Richard sitting at a far table, nursing a beer and picking at a pile of wings. Yesterday, we made arrangements to meet up tonight at his favorite sports bar.

“Hey, Dicky!” I call out loudly as I approach, knowing he hates that nickname.

“Long time no see, asshole.” Richard says, laughing and standing up from his chair. He gives me a rough slap on my back, which I return heartily.

“I’m surprised your wife let you out on a school night,” I tease, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite him.

“Becca knows who’s in charge,” he replies firmly, biting into a wing aggressively.

“You may think that, but I know who really wears the pants,” I laugh, reaching across and stealing one of his wings.

“Hey! Get your own,” he says, grabbing the plate and moving it out of my reach.

I grin as I swallow and then ask, “What are we drinking?”

“No idea, whatever was on tap,” he says, looking at his glass with sudden interest.

“You have no taste.”

“And yet I’m friends with
you
,” he quips back.

I breathe a sigh of relief and exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Just like that, I know our friendship hasn’t suffered during the weeks I’ve been ignoring him. It had
nothing
to do with him.

“I’m sorry I've been out of touch, man,” I say honestly. I never meant to shut out my closest friend. He is the one person, aside from Sarah, who’s never turned their back on me.

“Don’t worry about it. I knew you were just a phone call away.” Richard isn’t the type of man who holds someone’s nature against them. He knows I wasn’t shutting him out personally. Rather, I was closeting myself from, well,
myself
.

“Always,” I say sincerely, just as the waitress comes over to take our order.

I ask for a cheeseburger sans the pickles, fries, and a
Harpoon IPA
to drink. Richard orders the same, except with the disgusting pickle, and mustard instead of ketchup.

“What’s going on, Aaron?” Richard asks giving me a hard look, breaking the silence we’d lapsed into.

“I need your advice. What do you think I should do?”

“About what?” Richard asks, clearly confused.

Before I can answer, the waitress delivers our beers and promises to return shortly with our burgers.

Taking a long sip of the cold beer, I collect myself before finally saying, “About life.” And then I admit, for the first time out loud, “What do you think I should do? I’m fuckin’ lost.”

“Honestly?”

“No, I want you to lie to me.” I say sarcastically.

“First of all, you need to distance yourself from
The Pint
,” he states, his tone resolute. “I’d start by moving out of that shit apartment, and quittin’ your fuckin’ job there.”

“I wouldn’t be able to afford a decent place on my salary from just the shelter. It’s pretty much nonexistent,” I reply coolly. Not all of us make bank managing the exclusive nightclub,
St. Andrew’s
. They make a ton of money on the cover charge alone, not to mention the food and beverage sales. The club is only open Thursday through Saturday nights, and the rest of the time the restored church is used as a venue for other events, such as weddings. My sister and brother-in-law, Bennett, had their reception there when they got married, over three years ago.

“You asked for my opinion, so I’m going to tell you. If I were you, I’d get as far away from that element as possible. Do you want to end up back inside?” he asks harshly.

“Of course not,” I snap.

“Then I’d move in with Sarah while I looked for something permanent. You know your sister would take you in,” Richard says rationally.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to impose on her family again. It was fine when I lived there after getting out, before Harry came along, but it’s her home now, not mine.”

“What do you think you should do?” he asks, turning it back to me.

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked you,” I say exasperatedly, as the food is delivered to our table.

Just as I’m about to pick up and take a bite of the delicious-looking burger, my phone buzzes. I quickly dig it out of my pocket and glance down at the screen.

Fuck!

It’s a message from
The Pint’s
manager, Troy, proving Richard correct. I need to distance myself from anything to do with the bar and its patrons.

Troy: A package will be delivered 2morrow night, put it in the safe.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I shove the phone back into my pocket and focus on my meal. There’s silence as we both enjoy our burgers.

“I’m sure I could find you some hours at the club, until you find something else. We’re always looking for decent bartenders who don’t take any bullshit,” Richard offers in between bites.

“Thanks, I’ll think about it,” I say, and then seeing his hardened look I add seriously, “I promise, I will. You’re right.”

In the past, I’ve been hesitant to accept a bartending job at the club for two reasons. One being, they are only open three nights a week, and I need more hours than that, and the second reason is my own foolish pride. It could easily be me running the place, not Richard. Watching him manage the place would be a slap in the face, showing me all my mistakes.

After swallowing his bite Richard says, “You’ve been out four years. It’s time you leave it behind you. Stop punishing yourself, man.”

“I know.” I take a sip of my beer, swallowing the lump in my throat. I turn back to my burger, and after taking another bite, ask, “So, what’s been going on? How’s Rebecca?”

Rebecca,
Becca
, is the woman he married three years ago. Richard and I met her at the club back in the day. I’ve always liked her, and it’s an unspoken rule that we
never
mention that she and I briefly hooked up before they got together. The sex was fine, but we never really connected on a deeper level. I’d just been released at the time too, and was in no place to begin a long-term relationship—something I know she was looking for.

Afterwards, I could tell Richard was interested in her, and I told him he should go for it, and he did. Not one to mess around, he claimed her as his woman right away. I was thrilled for my friends. They are perfect for one another, and have exactly what they need in each other. By all accounts it was a whirlwind relationship, and it didn’t take long for them to get engaged.

I was the lucky bastard who got to be Richard’s best man, which meant I planned the bachelor party. It wasn’t up to
The Hangover
standards, though. We didn’t hit Vegas, and luckily, no one got arrested. But it was an epic sendoff into matrimony in its own right. I was the designated brain, meaning I was stone cold sober the entire time. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have a great time, taking photos and laughing at my friends’ expenses. I was on parole, so being sober was the best option at the time. I steered them away from any real trouble, but not before a lap dance or two. I still have several blackmail photos safely tucked away.

It’s funny how you don’t realize how much you’ve missed someone’s company until you see them again. Richard is a great friend. I should’ve never shut him out like I did. Luckily for me, he’s a forgiving bastard.

“We’ve actually been trying to get pregnant,” he answers me, smiling brightly.

“That’s great, man.” I know how much he wants to have a family. In a lot of ways, Richard and I are no different in what we want out of life. He’s just more on target to achieve it. You’d think I would be jealous, but I can honestly say that I’m not. I am truly fucking happy for him. At least one of us is getting our
heart’s dream
.

Your
heart’s dream
is that thing you won’t ever allow yourself to admit to truly wanting. You don’t believe you’ll ever get it, and admitting that it’s your deepest desire only makes the loss of your dream hurt more. So you pretend that it’s nothing you wanted to begin with. That way, you never have to feel the pain of not being granted your heart’s dream.

Finding an amazing woman, getting married and starting a family is my heart’s dream.

“I’m exhausted. Every time I turn around, she wants to have sex,” he complains before biting into his burger ravenously. Clearly, he’s been working up quite the appetite.

“Dude, you’re living the dream! We could all be so lucky.” I grin at him.

“Just wait ‘til you meet some nice little woman, and the next thing you know, you’re married and exhausted from having to perform,” he says, waving a fry in my face.

“I don’t think I’m that lucky. I’m not settling for just anyone,” I reply firmly. After meeting Sunshine yesterday, whether I deserve a woman like that or not, there’s no way I’d settle for anything less.

“I didn’t. And neither should you,” he says seriously.

“At least when it comes to women, I now know what I want. So that’s something,” I say, smiling.

“What do you mean?” Richard asks curiously, picking at his fries.

Leaning across the table, I say softly, “I need a woman who trusts me completely, one I can give myself entirely to. Someone I can be myself with, and who wants the same things out of life. A family.”

I’m not sure why—the pub is nearly deserted this early—but I feel the need to keep the conversation private. Probably because I’m exposing what's been hidden in my heart for a long while, but would never even allow myself to acknowledge.

“I sound like a fuckin’ woman. I think I need another drink.” I say, leaning back in my chair, rubbing my face and then tucking my hair behind my ears.

Richard simply gives me a knowing smile, and doesn't say anything.
What else is there left for him to say?

“I don’t want to hookup anymore. Well, I do—you know what I mean.” I laugh as Richard chuckles along with me.

“If you want to meet women, then you should come to the Valentine’s Day Date auction at the club,” he says casually.

“I don’t know if I’m ready—”

“It’d be good chance for you to catch up with everyone, and meet some single women, maybe go on a date with one,” he interrupts enthusiastically.

I can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm for my potential sex life. “I don’t know.”

“It’s for a good cause,” he reminds me, draining the last of his beer.

“I’ll think about it,” I say honestly.

“Good, I’ll make sure you’re on the approved bidders list,” he says excitedly.

“I didn’t say I’d buy a date. I’ll just go and catch up with everyone,” I caution him. I’m ready to start my life again, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to step back into the dating world. Or that I even have the energy to find the right woman. Someone who is sweet, kind, knows what she wants, and gorgeous.
Sunshine.

“Fine. But just in case, I’ll make sure you’re on the list,” he replies, not put off in the least by my answer. I have a feeling he’s stuck on the idea of me dating again.

“We’ll see,” I reply.