Funny that the thing that's forced us together is the thing we love the most. Football. And Cory's condition, that we have to buy the Grizzlies together or not at all? Not something I had on my bingo card for this year. Then again, given the fucked-up state of the world, maybe it's time we all collectively agree to throw away bingo cards for good.
"I'm sorry," he mutters, backing off, wiping away his tears.
"You're fine," I assure him. "Really."
He looks at me through tear-soaked eyes, his pale cheeks flushed, and I'm transported to the time we lost a middle school playoff game in overtime and he felt it was his fault and burst into tears.
"Really really?"
I nod, drawing in the type of deep breath you take before sitting down and having a long overdue conversation with someone you've loved with your whole heart…and still do. "Come on. We need to talk."
We climb onto the concrete platform foundation and sit down, our legs dangling over the edge where the metal bolts stick up. I honestly don't even know where to begin, so I start at what could possibly be the worst place.
"How's your family?" I ask.
He looks surprised, and I don't blame him. This was the one topic that was completely off-limits growing up, an unspoken arrangement between us we stuck to no matter what.
My parents aren't fans of the Winkelmann's by any stretch of the imagination. But they never interfered in our friendship. They respected my right to choose my own friends, and because Rein was my best friend, he was always welcome in our house.
Wish I could say the same was true of his folks, but I can't. Their grudge against my family extended to me as well. And they weren't shy about letting me know. That's why Rein would haul over whatever new Lego set he had gotten, and we’d build in my tiny, cramped bedroom instead of in his palatial one.
"They're good," he answers. "Dad retired from running the business a few years ago, so Sabrina's taken over. He and Mom moved to Florida."
"And your grandmother?"
He smiles, and I grin back. She was the only Winkelmann who was ever nice to me. She and Rein are the only two out of that family the whole town doesn't hate.
"She’s still kicking and full of energy."
Grinning, I say, "I bet."
Rein knows my dad had a heart attack and passed away a few years ago, so he asks how West Coast life is treating my mom. She moved to San Diego to live with her sister, and I tell him she's enjoying it, especially the Mexican food, which she raves about whenever I call.
We talk about a few mutual friends and what they're doing these days. Who's married, who's divorced, who's got kids. We poke fun at getting older and having creaky knees. Whether it's a good time to invest in Bitcoin. Up-and-coming football players we like. The gridlocked state of politics in this country, which we don't waste too much time on.
It's all a distraction and a buildup to the two things we actually need to talk about: what went down years ago and the ultimatum Cory presented us with less than an hour ago. They're both huge topics, but I pick the one that makes the most sense to start with.
"So, the accident."
Rein sucks in some air and winces. "I can't even tell you how bad I feel about what happened."
"I know."
That was never in doubt. If the situation were reversed, I don't know how I could live with myself. It's what he did next that killed me. I've held on to so much anger and resentment about it, aimed squarely at him, but now that I'm sitting here with him, in a place that holds so many special memories, I can't access any of those feelings. All I have is this massive, sinking sadness sitting in my chest.
"What the shit happened?" he asks, turning to face me. "You completely cut me off without so much as an explanation."
Oh, boy. Here we go.
"You're kidding me, right?"
"Why would I be kidding you?"
I stare at him in disbelief. "You don't remember the letter you sent me?"
"The letterIsentyou?"
"You can drop the dumb act," I say sharply, some of that long held on to anger returning, simmering in my belly. "The letter. You know, the one delivered to me while I was in intensive physical therapy. The one where you asked how much it’d take for me not to sue. Fucking hell, Rein. My career was dead, and all you cared about was your own precious reputation."
