Julian

IV. April, Ch. 48

     The mere sound of her name was like a torero taunting his tear duct bull. His throat closed in."Oh, um, she... she doesn't want me in her life anymore."

     George's eyes fell. "Goodness, junior. I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

     Aside from coming to the conclusion that I will die alone and the desire to end my life, yes, I am alright. "Yes. I will be."

     "When did this happen?"

     The moment replays in my head every five seconds. Each encore feels worse than the last. "This afternoon."

     George covered his open mouth.

     "But I'll be alright. I need a little time, that's all."

     "Where are you going?"

     Calvin shrugged. "If only I knew."

     George stepped closer to Calvin and patted one of his cheeks like an affectionate Italian mobster. He looked over his shoulder at the man in the driver's seat of his car. "Weiss, come back in a few hours. My friend and I are going to spend a little time together."

     What? No. Go away."George, this isn't necessary."

     "You can't be left alone, junior. Come along."

     Calvin sighed. "I'm not taking time away from something important, am I?"

     George pushed him towards the entrance of the Lincoln Hotel. "Not at all."

***

     Calvin's brain melted into a puddle of toothpaste-like mush. Half a bottle of fifteen-year-old-scotch danced with every inch of his muscles, making him feel as lethargic as a lonely sailor after a night of passion with his sweetheart.

     He rested his head over his crossed arms. The image of an empty scotch bottle came in and out of focus as the hotel bar spun around.

     Just when he thought he had enough scotch to drown her memory, it would learn to swim. He'd go back to crying and feeling hopeless until George slurred something to cheer him up.

     Genevieve, why couldn't I make you mine? Was I too young? Too boring? I should have known a boy like me wouldn't be enough for you.

     George was in no better shape than Calvin was. His face burned with heat coming from the liquor. He needed to take his time with each word. "My Rose would be so disappointed to catch me drinking this much, but it's for a good cause, right?"

     Calvin wasn't listening. He opened his mouth and bit his tongue like an idiot, trying to find a spot on it with nerve endings. He was numb all over. Drinking was quickly becoming the new solution to his problems.

     George laughed from deep within. "What are you doing, junior?"

     What am I doing? It doesn't matter. He was having just as hard a time speaking as George was. "I-I I'm not going to have a job soon."

     "Over a few drinks? Nonsense."

     Calvin shook his head. He spoke louder and slower than necessary, attracting looks from the other patrons. "I won't be teaching anymore. I think I need a new job."

     "Well, shoot. You want a job? I've got a job for you."

     Even in his inebriated condition, he braced himself for sarcasm. "Oh, yeah?"

     "Sure. Anything for John's boy. He used to talk about you a lot, you know, when he was in town. You were his pride and joy."

     Calvin opened his eyes wide. "Dad talked about me?"

     "You were all he ever talked about. He loved you more than work."

     Grief shattered whatever drunk feelings he had. He hugged his shoulders and buried his face in his forearms, sobbing into them to relieve the pressure.

     George ordered the bartender to bring more scotch. He looked down at Calvin. "Did you not know he loved you?"

     He lifted his head up and shook it. He wiped his eyes of tears. 

     "He did. And he loved that you were passionate about something."

     "Yeah?"

     "Yes. Which is why I want to offer you the job."

     Calvin sniffed. "Job? What job?"

     The bartender arrived with the scotch.

     George poured a splash into each of the two glasses. "When my Rosie was alive, she managed a theater company in Los Angeles. After she died, the whole thing fell apart. It was too painful for me to handle on my own, so I let it fall."

     "I'm sorry about your wife."

     George held a hand up. "Eh, let's not get into that. It still hurts."

     "Anyway," he continued "I've been meaning to get back into it. My nephew Bruce says he's interested, but he needs to get his butt to college."

     "And you want me to join you?"

     "At least for a year. I could pay you good money if you can get the whole thing up and running again. We could even produce one of your plays."

     Calvin couldn't believe what he was hearing. His big break was being offered to him on a silver platter. Why wasn't he happy? "That sounds great, George."

     "Yes, I need someone who knows the industry to help me bring the company back to life."

     Calvin smiled, but the message was taking longer than usual to sink in. He closed his eyes and held up an index finger. "Wait, wait. Did you say Los Angeles?"

     "Mhm."

     "So," Calvin dragged the word for four seconds as he pondered, "I'd have to move back?"

     "Mhm."

     He waited for George to elaborate.

     He didn't.

     Back to Los Angeles? Without Genevieve? "Is this a real offer?"

     George pouted. "The job's yours if you want it. Just let me know when you can start."

     No Genevieve? "I-I need to think about it."

     George grabbed Calvin's fingers and wrapped them around a glass of scotch. He took the other and raised it up. "To the women in our lives, junior."

     Calvin raised his glass and tapped it against George's.