A Forbidden Harvest

Two days ago

The drive to work took entirely too long. I was in the car for a solid seventy minutes and I spent the bulk of the time inching forward, one car length at a time. I seriously considered taking the car pool lane to make sure that I could get to work on time and I was more than willing to accept any ticket that came my way. The 5 freeway was always a mess, particularly where it joined with the 805. I never understood why we even had an office when everyone could work remotely. The proof of that lay in the success my company experienced during the pandemic. Not a single deadline was missed, and our revenue shot through the roof.

Lucky for me, my off-ramp was relatively free of commuters this morning. The right turn onto the road that leads to my office was free of obstructions and I slid right into my preferred office parking space.

Work was extraordinarily quiet today. I banged out the code I was working on, checked everything in, and headed out to lunch. I've always been fortunate in that I've never had to work very hard for anything and my career and personal life blended together nicely.

Steph and I were meeting for lunch to go over the details of how we were going to split up everything. We purchased a home together several years ago and needed to chat about what we were going to do with it. I'd be fine if he wanted to buy me out. Everywhere I look in the house I see him.

We'd been together since our junior year in college and to be perfectly honest, I'd never known anyone else. He was my best friend for as long as I could remember, and as a romantic partner, he was nothing short of spectacular.

We started growing apart as he became more and more successful in his career. Steph had a penchant for marketing – it's part of the reason why I fell in love with him. He could captivate a room with his ability to speak and his looks absolutely demanded the copious amounts of attention he received from all angles. I was struggling to imagine my life without him. Sadly, he made it very clear in the last few weeks that we were done.

It certainly didn't happen overnight, and I share part of the blame for the situation we found ourselves in. Steph started spending more and more time in the office after his last promotion and I threw myself in to my work. Date night went from once a week to once a month, finally dropping off the calendar altogether.

I pulled in to the restaurant we both decided on. I saw his 66 mustang in the parking lot, and it made me mad. That damn car was a thing a beauty. I knew, because I helped him restore it. It still had the baby blue color we both decided on – after all, that was the original color and we both decided if we were going to do the restoration, we would do it right.

I'm pissed at this point. I didn't want to see his face. I didn't want to even have this conversation. At this moment in time, I don't even know why I was here. Fuck him.

I didn't need to explain myself and I didn't need to have this conversation.  He could have all my shit. Possessions are utterly irrelevant at the end of the day, and we didn't have anything I wanted so terribly that I was willing to give him the dignity of arguing over.

I walked into the restaurant with the most confidence I've ever had. I rolled around the corner, passing by the mousy little woman that desperately wanted me to pay attention to her. She made eye contact with me for the briefest of moments and knew at that moment I wasn't going to engage her, or even give her any attention whatsoever. She let me pass without giving me any resistance thankfully. I'm pretty sure she didn't have the time to deal with my shit, and at that moment I desperately appreciated her apathy.

He saw me before I saw him, and he knew at that moment that this was not going to be his game. I had him.

I made my way to his tiny ass little table purposefully, pausing only the briefest of moments before I tucked my body into the bench opposite him.

“Hey Steph”, I said without a terrible amount of emotion.

I was confident in that moment that he was expecting me to show some sort of emotion, any emotion in fact. That was definitely not on my list of things I wanted to share with this fucker. I was mad – no, I was bullshit, and I wasn't going to give him anything, and he deserved nothing.

He looked at me as if he was going to say something, almost as if he was willing to give an apology. I had spent three years of my life with him, through thick and thin, through his bullshit with work, his boss, his 'friends'.

Without even thinking, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my key ring, and slowly began to wind my key off the ring. He was about to say something. I didn't give him the opportunity and I bet he was thankful. As the key slid off, I firmly laid it on the table between us.

He made a significant amount of eye contact with me in that moment. It was the most he'd looked at me in weeks. After a short pause, all he could muster was this ridiculous statement.

“Thomas, I'm not really sure what to say.”

I stared at Steph for an agonizing amount of time. I'm not really sure what happened in that moment, but something came over me and I flicked the key across the table.

“Look Steph”, I said with more rage than I figured I would ever be able to muster.

“I'm not sure how we got here, but I'm ok with it. As a matter of fact, I'm more okay with it than I have ever been. I don't understand. How you left hurt me more than anything you can understand.”

Steph tried to stop me from continuing and held up his hand to preempt my diatribe. I was having none of it.

“Here's your key. Along with it, I'm going to let you know one thing. I will never let you hurt me again.”

I didn't have to let him know in any more words. Just as I knew, he knew in that moment that we were done. I didn't even know why I was so angry, so damn profoundly angry.

I didn't give him the opportunity to stop me. I stood up, I slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table, and I left. I chuckled just a bit as I did as I didn't even know if he ordered a drink. I just wanted to make sure he knew that I paid for whatever he ordered. The last tab I'd ever pay for that son of a bitch.

Laughter was all I could possible muster at that moment. I seriously couldn't stop myself from giggling as I exited the restaurant. The situation from my perspective was ridiculously silly.

I was supposed to go into that restaurant and solve a problem. If anything, I exacerbated it. In that moment, I needed him to understand my anger, my rage. Fuck Steph. Fuck the life we had built. None of it mattered. Nothing we did had actually ever mattered.

I rushed to my car, flailing with my key fob as I desperately attempted to open my car door before I expected him to chase me out. With a simple click my car door unlocked and I seamlessly slid into the driver seat. I paused only briefly to see if Steph chased me out of the restaurant, hoping he would. He didn't.

I could see his figure from behind my windshield. He barely moved. He just sat there. Staring out the window towards the parking lot not even seeing me in my car.

I drove away as fast I could, as angrily as I could so he would know. Was it overly emotional? Was it stupid? Who cares.

I knew I needed some sort of relief. I knew I needed to avoid this emotional experience, whatever this was.

It had been five years since I had drunk myself into oblivion and just as many years since I had been reckless enough to try to pick up someone but I was going to do it tonight.

It didn't take much to find my way to my old favorite dive. I tore ass up the freeway weaving in and out of traffic until I landed on the exit I knew. Finding a parking spot was easy at this time of night. It was barely dark and I knew my favorite bartender wouldn't be on duty for another couple hours, if she even worked here still. After all, it had been a couple years before I had been here.

I got out of my car and slammed the door, still pissed off after my encounter with Steph. He didn't even say anything or do anything. If anything, that pissed me off even more.

I yanked open the door to the bar – it was surprisingly heavy with a small shiny metal handle on the left hand side and it made a grinding noise as it opened.

I recognized the smell immediately as I entered. It smelled of stale beer, peanuts, and sweat and it was fucking glorious. I spent a ton of time here in college. In fact, it was where Steph and I met the first time.

It was an unusual bar as it catered to all sorts of folks. It was right off the 78 freeway which was a corridor for all sorts of folks. I'd seen cops, truckers, students, businessmen, drunks - it didn't matter. This establishment was equally close to a Sheriff station, a 7-11, a Cal State University, and an amazing little Mexican hole in the wall restaurant that all the locals adored. Everyone in the establishment was looking for something and no one passed judgment.

I didn't recognize any of the bartenders when I rolled in. I wasn't surprised. It had been more than a few years.

I swaggered up to a bar stool and plopped my sorry ass down and motioned for the bartender. He was younger than I remember most of the bartenders being here and was hansom as hell. He took notice of me and made his way over, grabbing a towel from behind the bar and throwing it over his shoulder.

“What can I get ya?”, he asked nonchalantly.

“Vodka, soda, lime, double.”, I replied.

I wasn't going to flirt with the bartender. He was clearly early twenties and I probably had about eight years on him. I've never been into men younger than me and I learned a long time ago to never shit where you eat.

He poured my drink like he hated the owner and I guzzled it down before he finished pouring my next door neighbor's drink.

“Troubles brother?”, he asked?

I looked over at him, surprised that someone even paid me notice, especially this early in the day.

“Nope. No worries here. I'm good.”, I said.

I gave him a curt smile. He was attractive for sure, but there was something off about him. He was young, but he had what only I could declare as 'old eyes'.

“Doesn't look that way from my perspective.”, he said. “You look like you have some troubles.”

I came here for a reason. This young man was paying attention to me, and at this moment I needed it.

I picked up my drink and swiveled my seat so I could see him better.

He was clearly in his early twenties and was attractive as fuck. I had him by about thirty or forty pounds and was way more muscular. His lithe figure was attractive as hell and I knew I wanted him.

“Hey brother, can I help you with your worries? Maybe buy you a drink?”, he asked?

I've always been the one to buy the first drink. I've always been the man in this situation, but for some reason, I acquiesced.

“Sure”, I said. I was into this guy. I didn't know if he was into me or if he just knew I needed an ear.

“What you having?”, he asked.

“I'll take whatever you are giving me”, I said with a smile.

“Vodka soda, two limes”, he hollered at the bartender.

Holy shit. He knew my drink. This was definitely a sign.

I smiled at him profusely as the bartender poured my drink.

“Close it?”, asked the bartender.

“Negative. Keep it open.”, my stranger exclaimed.

This was definitely going to get interesting I mused. We were close enough to Oceanside and Camp Pendleton where this boy could be a marine. I've dated a few marines before but this one had confidence and wasn't afraid to be himself.

“Where you from originally?”, I asked.

“Tennessee”, he replied without skipping a beat.

I stared at him fondly. It was dark in the bar, but I could definitely tell that he was a blondie and had hazel eyes.

“You wanna play some pool?”, I asked.

“Sure. I'll pay for the first round.”, he said.

I smiled at him and knew at this moment we were going to leave the bar together.

The pool table was pretty much shit. It was old as hell and all the cues were ancient. I struggled to find a chalk and eventually found one under the table. I grabbed my cue and chalked it, as slowly and sensually as I could.

I wanted this man. He was incredible. Smaller than me for sure but boy did he have an air of confidence I'd never seen on a man. He smirked at me as I leaned over the table to take my first shot. It was almost as if I won the lottery – my break was amazing. I landed two stripes on the initial shotand he gave me a big smile.

As I walked around the table, I noticed that he had the most amazing bubble butt I'd ever seen. He was wearing jeans with a tucked in unprinted blue shirt. As I circled the table I realized that he was wearing cowboy boots. I chuckled a bit as I lined up my next shot. I hadn't seen cowboy boots in this bar in years. This kid was bold, and he knew what he wanted.

“Hey, I'ma grab a pitcher of beer.” he hollered over the music that just started playing from the digital juke box in the corner of the room. “What do you want?”, he asked?

I glanced at the tabs on the bar and hollered, “Modelo”.

He nodded and took off toward the bar. This kid was pretty damn amazing. I wasn't used to being the one that had to pay. Usually, anyone his age I would be paying for.

He came back with a pitcher and two glasses. He studiously poured both drinks and handed me mine. I graciously took it and toasted him placing my drink on the pool table.

As it was my turn, I took a shot, chugged a swig, and slammed my beer down on the pool table.

He smiled at me, took a slug from his beer and took a shot. The mother fucker knocked his first ball in, followed it up with a second, and then sunk a third ball in.

He paused only for a moment, gave me a smile, and proceeded to line himself up to knock in a fourth ball.

“Fuck off”, I exclaimed.

He briefly paused, smiled at me, and sunk his fourth ball. As he lined up to sink his fifth ball, he smirked at me, didn't even look, and shot. It sunk.

I knew he only had two more balls, and for some stupid reason I decided to save face by rolling up to the bar and ordering another pitcher.

The bartender hooked me up with another pitcher of Modelo, and didn't even ask me for a card seeming understanding that it was on his tab.

I walked back to the pool table with the pitcher with a grin on my face as my pool partner was chalking his cue.

“So, what's your name Mr. Pool Shark”, I asked?

He smiled at me with a big ole' grin. “Trevor”

“Nice to meat you Trevor”, I shouted over the music and the loud roar of the bar as folks had started to roll in.

With a simple nod, Trevor shot another ball into the corner pocket. With that, he smiled at me, and without looking he took another shot at the corner pocket, this time with his last ball. It missed.

“Hah!”, I exclaimed.

I looked at him, he appeared upset on the miss as I lined up for my first real shot. I grabbed the chalk off the table, chalked up my cue, and took aim.

It was a hit. I sunk three more balls before I missed.

I poured myself a beer from the pitcher and downed it. I wish I had paid attention to that moment more clearly. He was chalking his cue as I drank it down but damn, did he smirk at me. I knew he was going to win at that moment, I just didn't understand how clearly that he would.