Ezra had endured enough.
Friday night, and the seven friends had drifted together to spend the evening at their favorite haunt, after the ladies had declared an impromptu “girls night out” and left their men folk bereft of companionship.
It’d been a hard week, a hard several weeks for some of this large group of men and women, and Ezra would never presume to begrudge the ladies their own form of respite. His current aggravation stemmed from quite another direction. The men were currently dispersed throughout the otherwise under populated establishment, and as Ezra let his attention drift to each on in turn, his felt his pique increasing.
Mr. Wilmington stood at the jukebox, idly and forlornly feeding quarters into it. He’d been in a depressed mood all week. JD informed the rest that Buck had found out over the weekend that his very first girlfriend had recently died from complications of acute diabetes. All the gentlemen were aware what a crushing blow the death of even a minor acquaintance would be to the man, yet when Ezra approached him, “and how are you this evening, Mr. Wilmington?” Buck smiled and shrugged off Ezra’s query.
I’m kinda worried about Josiah…” and he slid a couple more quarters into the machine.
Two weeks before, Josiah had made his somewhat-monthly journey across the state to visit his sister. She lived in a supervised setting for people whose mental and emotional circumstances left them unable to live on their own. Generally, these visits culminated in Mr. Sanchez proffering gifts his sister had made for them all in recreational therapy, and recounting the day trips they’d made and how well she was doing. His utter silence on the topic this time spoke volumes.
Sitting alone in a booth, nursing a bottle of beer, Josiah answered Ezra’s remark that he seemed a little out of sorts by shaking his head. “Just been wondering if there’s anything we can do for Nathan…”
Mr. Jackson had taken the State Exam to upgrade from an EMT to a paramedic. Months of study, worry, and more study, then weeks of waiting for the results, had been stressful for Nathan. He claimed he was delighted with his score – 95 – but anyone who knew the man as well as they did, knew he was tearing himself up over the questions he’d missed.
Looking up briefly from the textbook fixed to the table before him when Ezra inquired after his health, Nathan gestured across the room. “It’s that fool we should be worried about. The man oughtta know better’n keep working with busted ribs.”
A short walk across the wooden floor brought Ezra to Mr. Tanner’s side. He’d been vocal enough about the teenage boy with the faulty brakes who’d plowed into him at a stop sign, sending Vin’s car into a stonewall, and sending Vin into the steering wheel. Though Nathan, and his doctor, and all the rest of his friends, recommended he take some time off from work, he wouldn’t. They all knew that he was worried about paying the deductible for his car and medical insurance, and that he was trying to make do with over the counter painkillers because he couldn’t afford the prescription he’d been given. He’d politely – and sometimes not so politely – deflect any suggestion, offer, or hint that he could come to his friends for whatever help he needed.
Even now, “Ezra – how’re you doing?” before Ezra could ask it of him. “How’s your Mom?” which prompted Ezra to do some shrugging of his own while offering an innocuous reply. He hadn’t spoken to his mother for nearly six weeks since she left for the Bahamas, peeved because he’d expressed disappointment that she would miss his birthday. Again. Loud and trenchant disappointment.
“I was wondering about Mr. Larabee…” Ezra segued. “Has someone run off with his dog?” Vin shook his head and took a sip of his beer.
“Anniversary. Him and Sarah woulda been married ten years, yesterday. Stubborn cuss…what’s he think friends are for?”
Yet, when Ezra approached the man in question, where he shot pool in the corner of the room, “Mr. Larabee, I haven’t see you in a few days…” Chris immediately changed the subject.
“You got any idea what’s up with JD? Just sitting there by himself, playing with that damn Rubik’s Cube. Hasn’t said a word all day, you don’t think he’s still upset about being ID’d at that bar last weekend? So he looks young …that’ll change.”
And there did sit Mr. Dunne, paying scant attention to his challenging pastime. “Hey Ez’…” he ignored as well any question regarding his state of well-being. “I’m real worried about Buck. I’ve never seen him this down…”
Ezra had endured enough. He grabbed the Rubik’s Cube out of JD’s hand to use as a gavel, thumping it loudly on the table.
“Gentlemen…” he intoned when he was sure he had everyone’s attention. “I’d like to thank you all for coming to tonight’s meeting of ‘Stoics Anonymous.’ Please let me begin…” he handed the puzzle cube back to JD and stood up on a chair.
“Hello. My name is Ezra, and I’m fine. Really.”
He got down off the chair, ignoring the stares and bemused smiles of his friends, and ordered himself a drink.
The End.