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“Hi Emma.” I know it’s her even though I don’t look at her face. “Would you at least look at me when you greet me?” I hear laughter in her tone. I look up and put on the most childish look on my face and respond as if I were in kindergarten. “Good Morning, Emma.” She giggles in response and I smile out of enjoyment. It’s almost as if she never moved away. Almost. We spend the morning talking about this and that, where she’s lived in the past couple of years (which happens to be Florida and California), how the family is, what extracurriculars we’ve each been involved in, any relationships we’ve been in since ours. As it turns out, neither one of us ever dated again. Eventually, noon comes around and I have to leave to go meet Neil for lunch. So we get up and share a fleeting hug, an awkward hug, a comfortable hug. “Would you like to have dinner tonight? I don’t feel like we’re done catching up.” I offer another invitation. “I would like that. I would really like that.” And for. " "Whatever," he shouted back. I took a long draft of my beer, dropped down in front of the VID and lost myself in the game for a bit. It felt good to get back to something I was familiar with. I felt a bit more like my old self. I drained my beer and like magic Gary was there with yet another and different beer. This one was from Germany. It was almost sweet. It was thick and opaque. The name was Hacker-Pschorr. Atlanta was driving the ball well, and shooting outside VERY well. But they couldn't get it to drop inside and if you couldn't do that against Chicago then you were going to lose! So, after a bit, I started rooting for Chicago. Gary brought me yet another beer just before I was finished with the Hackershore. I shot Gary a curious glance. "How the hell do know when I'm ready for another?" "It's the mark of good waiter dudette." "Oh," Then I noticed the smell. "You weren't kidding about those steaks were you?" "Nope. Did you think I was?" "Well, come on. Most people only have.
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