Aunt Marge has gotta be pushing eighty. She and mymom were best friends, making her our family by choice, not blood.
“Oh my, boy, have you grown…” Marge sighs, pulling back to eye me up and down. Not sure if it’s an appropriate perusal either with the way her lashes flutter.
“Officially fifty. But who’s counting?”
“We are!” Shouts echo from behind me, my attention stolen at every angle of the outdoor entertaining space. It’s day one of my closer-to-the-grave-than-birth celebration week, as Abigail likes to call it, and the ranch has been completely transformed.
I’m honestly impressed. The cobblestone terrace that rests between the main house and guest barn is now covered with string lights, tables and chairs for seating, white and black balloons, a live acoustic band on the far side, and every person imaginable chatting amongst us.
I hate to admit it, but it’s not too bad.
Guests are still arriving, Abigail mentioning earlier we’re to expect around fifty in attendance for the main party on Friday. It’s now Wednesday, and I’m grateful only ten or so are actually crashing here for the week. Some have, thankfully, decided to get a hotel in town.
I’d evict myself if Abbi forced me to entertain fifty people in my home. Ten I can handle. But any more than that? Kill me now.
Heavy hands find my shoulders as some of my best buddies from college wrap me in welcomes. “You’re old as fuck, man,” Josh announces. “How could anyone forget those gray hairs?”
“Hilarious.” I shake my head before bringing them into a hug. “Shit. How long has it been? Ten years?”
“Since the last reunion,” Prater comments, still looking goofy as ever with his Clark Kent glasses and oldgirlfriend’s name tattooed on his neck. I’ll never let him live that down.
Deck and Atlas chime in, “God, I miss college.”
I cock a brow. “Not me. Pretty sure field line suicides would kill me at this age.”
“But we tore that town apart,” Josh chants, the other guys following suit. It’s always like this when we’re together—chaos.
We really did, though. Our graduating class holds a reunion every ten to twenty years. The last one was, now that I think about it, ten years ago, just like I thought. I can’t believe it’s been that long since we’ve seen each other.
We all live pretty widespread across Texas, and despite living in the same state, it’s hard to find time when we’re all free.
Time is a thief. And that’s part of having a busy life at the ripe age of fifty, I guess.
We played football together in college, setting personal and team records like they were going out of style. Now, the boys are all married with families of their own, aside from Prater. Not sure that wild fucker will ever tame his promiscuous self.
“Where’s the fam?” I ask, searching for their clones running ragged around the ranch.
Josh sips his beer. “Just us, my man. Abbi gave us the RV trailer out back for the next few days. We head home Saturday morning.”
“Shit. Well, thanks, guys. It really means a lot for you to come out. I know it’s not easy to get away these days.”
Deck grabs my empty beer bottle and leaves to get me a new one.
“Nowhere else we’d rather be,” Prater says, eyeing the gathering crowd. There’s guests outside, mingling, drinking, and some even dancing. I’m glad there’s still a slightchill to the air at night, despite how brutal the heat during the day is. “So, any single women here you could introduce me to?” Prater gestures with his eyes.
“You sure as fuck ain’t bringin’ anyone back to the RV. Go woo her in the woods or something, but not there,” Josh retorts, making us break out in laughter.
Once an idiot, always an idiot. Some things never change.
“Not that I can think of…” I stammer. “Truthfully, I don’t have a clue who Abbi invited.”
“Nate coming?” Deck asks, replacing my beer and standing beside us again. The guys have met my best friend a handful of times, and for some reason, never clicked with him. I’ve never asked why, just respected that they didn’t enjoy being around him and left it at that.
“Abigail said he RSVP’d yes.” I haven’t seen Nate in…shit…probably five years, at least. I met my long-time friend, Nathaniel McIntosh, when we were both in our early thirties. Weird to gain a best friend as an adult, but Nate helped me through some tough shit—losing my parents and helping my sister. He’s been solid, no matter how much of a cold prick he can be.
Even if he’s been a bit of a ghost lately.
Nate’s automotive business had just kicked off at the time, and he helped me get a good deal on some top-of-the-line machinery for the ranch. My pops ended up working beside his father, hitting it off right away, which then sealed our friendship.
