Spiral Bound Journal

Fantasy

"Fantasy" by Mariah Carey, originally released 1995

Even though the crepuscular hour is upon us, I decided to take a quick detour on my way home from the gym. On any given State Fair Friday night, I'd be dodging park and ride buses barreling through the transitway while heading to the beer hall. That's not the case this year. Instead, the transitway is quiet save some other evening cyclists and people making their way to the beer hall. Even that will come to a stop in November. The timing of that announcement was suspect given the workers' decision to unionize being announced the day before the closure was made known. So anyone that's there tonight is essentially taking on their last call.

I am considering asking Mitch if he wants to meet up here for one last beer together. It is, after all, the location of our first really long chat. That early June day seems like forever ago. For better and worse, I know where the time has gone. At least Mitch has been around to make some of the crap a little easier to bear. Perhaps we can ruminate on that over an Ax-Man or two. Maybe I could even show up in a dress and catch him off guard. The last thought makes me giggle as I recall throwing on a sweater over my white blouse before driving to the beer hall. There had been torrential rain prior to the happy hour gathering, and I had to endure it to get to my car. At least the sweater allowed me to maintain some decency without having to stop at the condo along the way to change. Otherwise, well, Mitch would have caught so much flack if he still sat next to me. Then again I imagine he might not have been the only one staring at my soggy chest.

I look at the parking lot while half standing/half sitting on the bike. While Mitch and I had talked quite a bit at the time, I was still trying to figure out how I felt about him. Part of me had wanted to follow him out of the beer hall when it was time for him to leave. That didn't happen. Instead, I talked about my attempts at Rock Band karaoke and informing my co-workers how much your throats works out when singing along to Imagine Dragons. Strange, I know. What would it have been like to have taken the option that initially tempted me? Would we have had an awkward parking lot chat, or would one of us make the decision to ask for more than just talk? Would we have stood as close together as we ended up doing a few months later? Even after dating Mitch for over half a year, I still think back to that happy hour night. It was the last happy night before I learned that my mom's cancer fight was about to come to an end. Having Mitch in my life as my boyfriend has made some things about the last few months easier to bear, but true bliss has been elusive for quite a long time. Maybe returning to where it got started for one last brewski could mend another part of the gaping wound.

I dig my phone out of my gym bag and find Mitch's number. After tapping the text icon, I fire off a quick message.

"Want to hit up the beer hall before it closes 'indefinitely'?"

Once I send the text, I stow my phone and roll out. Nightfall is on its way, and I could use a little extra shelter right now.