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-30- Memory Lane

Luke "Coach Mo" Morrison

My fingers drum along the counter that I'm leaning on.

I swear I've been standing here for way longer than expected. I mean how long does it take to throw together a couple of bouquets?

Glancing at my watch for the umpteenth time, I scold myself for my absolute lack of patience but I blame it on Ruby.

It's her fault.

She's having surgery next week, the official marker of this horrible nightmare. It's not the surgery I'm worried for exactly, it's the what if's. Like what if they don't get it all? What if something goes wrong?

Ava's been telling me to calm down, have some faith. And maybe I would if she was on Ruby's team but she's not.

My eyes shift to the woman who's working at a table just behind the counter, meticulously arranging the flowers I've bought. I have to actively bite back the words and not tell her to hurry up.

I'm not actually rushed for time.

I just can't stand waiting.

I stare at the counter top I'm leaning on, aged and battered with years of use, like maybe it was used for something else in its former life. I pick at one of the groves, telling myself that waiting for a few minutes is worth it.

My thoughts drift through memories and I watch them unfold in my mind. Most of them Ruby is in.

We had met in high school at the car wash we both worked at, bonding over our manager that was messed up more than he wasn't. So many times we were left unattended, smoking together in the folds of the car wash when it was dead.

We were friends first, thriving off each other's rebelliousness. I was just headstrong and loved dragging my parents through hell just because I could. Ruby was desperately trying to find where she fit in. She never quite fit in with the kids in the neighborhood she grew up in, the Detroit kids just trying to survive. The ones that either joined a gang, found drugs, or never became anything because opportunities don't present themselves to kids in the hood. And the white kids that lived in the surrounding rich suburbs never wanted to make room for Ruby. Probably didn't help that she was outstandingly beautiful and ridiculously intelligent.

So together we formed this band, the two of us against the world. Breaking rules and raising hell until one day I kissed her. We were beneath an overpass, smoking some pot I stole from one of my friend's brothers. I remember the joint was still in my hand and I looked over at her as a semi shook the world around us as it passed over head. Her hair was a wild mess, her skin this beautiful mocha color, bright against the neon pink shirt she had on and I was high and I didn't care about the fact that she was black, or half black and I was white and my grandparents would probably have a fit if I brought her home because they were racists bastards, still stuck in the past. All I knew was I wanted to kiss her, I wanted to know what she tasted like, so I did it. I kissed the hell out of her. And from that moment on we spent more time lost in each other than we did in the present.

That is until I got her pregnant.

My parents were furious.

But not quite as pissed as her parents.

I was stealing away all her opportunities. I had turned her into a statistic. I remember yelling at her dad, screaming in his face as spit flew from my mouth as I told him otherwise. That I'd prove him wrong. That I loved Ruby and I wasn't going anywhere.

I technically still haven't broken that promise. I just didn't stay in the way I had thought I would when I spit those words all those years ago.

The first year was great. We were young, in love, infatuation with this curly haired little beauty we had made.

I'm not exactly sure what changed. But it did. We did. Slowly, over time. Neither of us pushed for intimacy, we stopped talking, instead going through the same blip of conversation over and over, night after night. There was never hostility. But there wasn't necessarily love either.

And then one day Ruby and I were sitting on the couch, her on one end and me on the other, some movie playing on the TV. Birdie was already asleep for the night and Ruby looked over at me and asked "what happened to us?".

That night we both came to the conclusion that maybe we were better off as friends. Turns out we were both right. I love Ruby fiercely as a friend and the mother of my child. But it ends there.

I blow out a heavy sigh, my thoughts wrapped up in that night and the days following when we decided to break the news to everyone. We never even got a lawyer. We just separated, splitting everything right down the middle except the house. I let her have that and being the wonderful woman that she is she helped me with a down payment to buy the house next door when it went up for sale a couple months later.

Everyone always lets me know how weird it is. But it works for us.

"Here you go sir." The woman places the bouquets on the counter in the same spot that I've been staring at, lost in my memories.

"Anything else for you?" She asks.

I clear my throat, bringing a smile to my face. "No this is it, thanks."

I hand her my card and she runs it, gathering the flowers in my arms. I bought one for each of the women in my life. Erin, Birdie, Ava and Ruby. Just a little reminder that I appreciate them.

It's something I've made a point to do every so often because I grew up watching my dad not give a shit. My parents weren't partners, my dad was the man, dominant and in charge and my mom was there to do his bidding.

I decided at a young age I wasn't going to be like that jack ass. And so far, I think I've done a pretty good job at it.

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Just slaving away over here, getting high on paint fumes 🤪.