Storied By Josh

Jacque slowly made his way up the path to the crest of the hill. There sat a bench and table. It overlooked the ocean and the boats in the bay. He pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses from his bag. His old hands trembled now, not like in days before. He would pour the two glasses, sit with his newspaper and wait for Charles. Newspapers had become a commodity in recent years, not many people bothered with them, but the editor of the local paper still had a printing press and put out a biweekly version of what could be found on the unity web. Jacque always made sure he was there at six in the morning to buy one. He smiled forlornly at the thought of how in the old days papers were delivered on mornings and he’d open his door to catch the world in a paper bundle.

He looked at his watch. Charles was late today. Lately Charles was having more trouble getting around than Jacque, and this made Jacque a little sadder. Their youth had been over for years, and life was now in its final swan song. A final breath would come eventually and the journey would be over. Jacque shook the thought from his mind.

He heard swearing cut through the wind. He turned and saw Charles cursing the geese on the path as he stepped around them. Jacque folded his newspaper up as Charles sat down, out of breath. “Damn birds are getting worse every week,” Charles said.
“Don’t be such an old man.”
“I am an old man.” They sat quietly for a moment while Charles caught his breath. “This is getting harder lately.”
“Mmm,” Jacque replied.
“Won’t be long before we both won’t be able to make it up that hill, let alone dodge those damn birds.”
“They’re geese.”
“Whatever they are, you sound like Alice used to.” Charles shifted his weight. “Pour me a glass.”
“Already did,” Jacque said as he handed Charles his drink.
“Here’s to another damn month of breathing.”
“Another damn month.” They drank, quickly throwing their heads back like they had so many times before. The second glass always was sipped, but the first had to be a swig.
“Did you get the paper?” Charles asked as he looked directly at it.
“Yes.”
“What’s in it?”
“Same thing that’s been in them for the last fifty years.”
“Shit, well let me read it.”
“Go for it.”
Charles was quiet as he skimmed the front page. “Looks like United Korea is petitioning the Climate Council for nuclear research. You know that’s outdated, goddammit, it’s been outdated for years. They got that fancy turbo solar stuff now. They’re just looking to make bombs.”
“United Korea aren’t bad guys anymore.” Jacque reminded Charles.
“Nope, I guess not. Now we are.” He sighed, then continued. “Course that’s what happens when you invade over a dozen countries for their oil.”
Jacque chuckled. “Hand me the funnies.
“They don’t print ‘em anymore.”
“Of course they do.”
“No, they don’t, they haven’t for a long time, you dense idiot.”
“I forget sometimes.”
Charles looked over his glasses. “Yeah, me too.”
“Did you hear?”
“What’s that.”
“Sean’s on his way out.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“All the good ones are going.”
“They always do.”They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Jacque sipping his scotch and watching the sea while Charles read the paper and mumbled about “this senator, that prime minister.”

The seagulls always looked beautiful to Jacque. They’d dive into the water by the boats, and come up with fish guts in their mouths. They soared so high sometimes, and when they fought Jacque could hear the sounds of an epic battle in his head, complete with bass percussion and a triumphant crescendo as the winner flew away with his trophy. Charles finally put the paper down.
“Read anything interesting?”
“Nope, it’s all shit. Same shit, always the same shit.”
Charles tried to pour himself another glass and knocked the bottle on its side.
“Are you drunk?” Jacque asked him.
“No, the wind is making my hands shake, fuck off.” Charles said grumpily as he righted the bottle and poured. They sat and watched the birds.
“You remember the time we were in London, at the dinner party for Sean?”
“No.” Charles said, again grumpily.
“Alice was with you and that beautiful blonde haired girl walked in.”
“That one.” Charles eyes sparkled. “I hadn’t seen her in fifteen years.”
“You looked so scared!” Jacque said laughing. “She walked right up to you, stuck out her hand and asked how you had been!”
“I was hoping she’d just do the awkward thing where you pretend you didn’t notice someone.”
“She didn’t though! She just walked right over, and then you stood there with a stupid red face stammering about something. I can’t even remember.”
“Then you introduced my wife.”
“Yes!” Jacque said laughing harder. “I had to you, you looked like you might shit your pants.”
“Laugh it up, asshole.” Charles said grinning.
“Sean walks up and she starts just eating him up.”
“What a bitch she was.”
“Poor Alice was in the middle of something much older than her,” Jacque continued, then, “What was her name?”
“I’ll never tell you.”
“Oh it started with a ‘k’ or a ‘c,’ Cherry? Or Sherry, I can’t remember. She was cute though.”
“She was too short.”
“What happened after that?” Jacque asked.
“I went home and made love to my wife.”
Jacque broke down laughing and slapping his knee. Charles tried to glare at him but couldn’t help but to smile.
“You know Sean ended up dating her for six months after that.”
“He wasn’t enough to hold her down,” Charles replied.
“No he wasn’t, poor guy.” Jacque said, wiping his laughing tears. “You know that was one of the few times I ever saw you flustered.”
“How long does he have?”
“Probably sometime this next week.”
“Poor guy.” Charles said after a while.

The wind picked up as they looked over the bay, their bay. They traded stories for another two hours. They became nostalgic and told drinking stories of when they were young and jumped from the roof of buildings into snow and danced with women. Stories of walking half asleep through a store at four in the morning looking for Campbell’s soup because in the middle of the night Alice had the craving when she was pregnant.

“Campbell’s and ice cream; she lived off that shit for nine months.” Charles said.

They didn’t tell the story of Charles’ son dying in the Middle East during an unpopular war. They didn’t come here for those kinds of stories; those were saved for when they were alone. Instead they told stories that made them happy, that made them feel young again. Memories that had been rusted over the years sprang back to life with each story told: Their first apartment together. The smell of the place. Living off of ramen noodles and beer for six months until one of them were able to get a job. Charles and Alice’s “wedding” where instead of getting married they went snorkeling in the dress and tux in Hawaii. “Alice never liked the idea of marriage.” Jacque said.

They didn’t talk about Jacque’s wife. Her death was still to near. Charles knew better than to bring it up. Jacque fought with it in his own way: silence and liquor.

They swapped their own stories, ones that didn’t involve each other but each knew by heart. Sometimes when friends are friends for an eternity every story gets told at least twice.

As the evening chilled the breeze they both knew their weekly outing was over. Jacque took the scotch, Charles took the paper. They both slowly stood and hugged.

“Next week?” Jacque asked, like he always asked.
“As long as we can.” Charles replied.

Jacque knew that wouldn’t be much longer. They were both the exception to the rule: they had outlived their wives and drank too much. Not only that but every week it seemed harder to get up that damned hill.

“Are you coming?” Charles asked over his shoulder.
“Yes, hang on you speed demon.” Jacque replied. As they slowly journeyed down the hill, passed the geese and away from their bay Jacque heard a swan sing.

Charles heard it too. He smiled. “It’s about damn time.”

And they continued on a great adventure together, if only for a little longer.