Second Chance (5 page)

“It’s just a game
,
Miles,” I say
.
I
walk out of the kitchen
,
and
let the screen door slam be
hind me
.
The morning air
is cool
,
but the sun’s warm on my skin
.
I put my headphones on and head down the block towards the
t
he
Brew House
, a neighborhood
café overrun with college students
.
It’s also home to
one of my best friends
.

I walk up the front steps and
p
ass a few girls on their way out
the door
that say hi
to me
and
I nod back
.
I’m used to
strangers
recognizing me a
ll over campus,
calling me by my first name,
even though I’ve never seen them before
.
Lenny’s
working behind the counter
.
S
he
looks up from her newspaper crossword puzzle and
w
elcomes me with a bored grin
.
Her real name is Linda
(
she confided
this to me in
trusted secrecy
)
.
It might be the biggest misfire in all of naming history
.
Linda
is someone who coordinates food drives and charity events
.
Linda
marries Sherman
,
and t
hey have two kids
.
Linda
works
out at Curves and
chairs the neighborhood
garden club
.
Linda
swaps recipes online
,
cuts coupons from the Sunday paper
,
and bargain shops
at garage sales
.

Lenny
,
meanwhile
,
s
ticks to a wardrobe
of
T
-shirts featuring
rock
bands
from
the
late
seventies,
rides her
skateboard to work,
and
has a loop pierced
through her plump bottom lip
.
Makeup would probably jump off of her face in fear if she ever tried to apply it
.
The only thing
feminine
about her is her long, thick
black hair which
s
he keeps tied back in a messy
clip to
restrain
all the “stupid
ass
curls” that
she argues is her genetic
betrayal
.
Lenny is no nonsense, hates small talk, loves an
argument
and play
s
the
insult
game
very well,
so we’ve become fast friends
.

“You look
a little
gray today, Gray,” she s
ays
, taking in my
sullen face
.

“Thanks,
Linda
,” I shoot back
.

“Life getting you down
,
or are you just hormonal?”

I
narrow my eyes and
raise my voice
.
“
That reminds me, d
id you get that autographed copy of
Hillary Duff’s
album yet
?
I know you were so excited when you
won
it on
e
Bay
.
”

Lenn
y
tightens her lips at this blow
,
but I
interrupt
our
daily
s
quabble
to hit
her with the truth
.

“
It’s my birthday
,
”
I say
.
She blinks with surprise
and fidgets with the
pen next to
her crossword puzzle
.
She knows enough about my past to
understand
why I’m not happy about it.

“
Maybe I
should
have
bypassed
the morning insult
s
,” she offers
, her way of apologizing
.

“
Hey, d
on’t change your customer service
standards
just for me
.” 
She smiles
,
since she cou
ld care less about
waiting on
o
ver-caffeinated college students
.
She’s been
roped into
managing
t
he Brew House
,
and the money’s good enough
to keep
her away from getting her nursing degree
.
Sh
e’s also living
with her mom and
helping to pay bills
because her
dad
,
who
m
her mom never married,
was detained
and sent back to
Mexico
three
year
s
ago for being
an
illegal
immigrant
.
Lenny
has
light skin
and her mom’s
small
nose and
angled
chin, but her dark eyes
, long lashes
and
black hair
come from her dad
.
I tell her she
could be attractive if she smiled a little more often
.
She tells me the same thing
.
Our friendship includes
making fun of people as much as
possible, sharing the occasional
joint, and
watching
Christopher Guest film
s,
because we can appreciate the art of
turning
life
into one
long
mockumentary
.

I ask Lenny for coffee
,
and she
raises her eyebrows
since I usually
order
juice
.
She
fills a cup and
sets
it
down
on the counter
.

“This one’s on me,” she says
.
I
mumble thanks and
tell her I’ll be outside, where
I
meet
her every morning for
her cigarette break
.

I
walk down the street to the end of the block, sit on the curb
,
a
nd
toast to the sun with my
cup
.
I
take a sip and
wonder if there’s coffee in heaven
.
I wonder if there’s
an
atmosphere
,
or if you even need to breathe
.
I wonder i
f you float everywhere, or
walk
,
or drive
, or
if they have fuel emission laws for cars
.
I wonder if I’m still high from last night.

The
coffee tastes
strong
and bitter
,
and it burns going down
,
but I
drink it to
honor Amanda
, who
drank
about five cups a
day
.
I
turn on my phone to find two missed calls from my parents
.
I call
my m
om
and it goes straight to
her
voicemail
.