On the Back Porch with Mike.

"It's red and dark, but it taste like fucking chardonnay." I spit it out onto the grass. "What is it?"

"Chianti," Mike said.

"Bullshit it is. It tastes like a goddamned fruit roll-up." We were sitting on his mother's back porch. He had come back to live with her while he got his shit together after a break up. It was night and summer and beautiful. The porch light was off but his phone was playing music and lit the porch well enough to hold conversation. The neighborhood was quiet otherwise. I had been working all day and my back hurt, but Mike wanted to see me and I had nothing else to do.

We didn't talk about Heather anymore, and I think he wanted to but he knew it wasn't good for him. He could have to me, but it wasn't good for him.

"Don't drink it then," he said.

"It's fine."

It was a large bottle. He called it a Handle but it didn't have a handle.

"Good. It's all I have."

"How much was it?"

"Eight."

"Dollars?"

"Yeah," he said. "Eight bucks, four liters."

"Hmm, mystery solved then."

"Yep."

I put my feet up on the chair in front of me. Mike's phone played Neutral Milk Hotel songs quietly and I sipped the supposed Chianti.

"How much money you have saved?" I asked him.

"Not a lot. A few hundred."

"Little longer and you'll be back on your feet."

"Hopefully. It isn't easy. Starting from nothing. It's like being a fucking teenager again."

"I told you you could have stayed with me."

"I couldn't do that to you," he said. "You know. Going through that shit. I didn't want to be that guy. Making shit weird."

"The offer still stands."

"I'm doing all right, but thanks man. Besides, you going to do my laundry?"

"Are you serious?" I laughed.

"Well fuck dude, I'm living at home, I think she's glad to do it."

"Jesus. You're thirty-three years old. She pack you a lunch too?"

"Fuck you." He laughed.

"She does, doesn't she? Peanut butter and fluff. Crackers and cheese. Juice box."

"Not always."

"I love you."

"You too. Asshole."

I refilled my cup and passed the handle-less to Mike. "You want to start a band?"

"I wouldn't remember how to play guitar if I had to. It's been so long."

"Fuck it. We'll be a noise band."

"I don't think there'd be much difference than High School then."

I smiled in the dark.

A moment passed and the album ended and the neighborhood was dark and quiet now.

"I was going to be a stock-car driver," Mike said. "Remember that? We both were."

"I remember."

"Team... team... What was it?"

"Team Raptor."

"Team Raptor! That's right! Like the dinosaur."

"Yep."

"Stock car racing and dinosaurs."

"Yep."

"Man. We're old now."

"No we're not. We'll be old when we look back on tonight and realize how young we were."

"Remember when I asked Melissa Chatham to be my girlfriend?"

"I remember you standing halfway down the hallway. Then yelling her name, then throwing up. I remember that."

"I didn't throw up," he said.

"Yes you certainly did. You threw up and Mrs. Barbireau had to walk you to the nurses office and then you had to sit next to Melissa all day after she watched you throw up. I know you remember. You didn't say a word for like, a week."

"Fuck you dude." He laughed. "I tried."

"You did," I said. "More than I could do."

"I remember," he took a sip, "tenth grade. You and Allison... Fuck, what was her name?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh fuck yes you do. Allison... Allison... Winslow! Yeah! You and Allison Winslow. Tenth grade. She was all about you, man. Remember  we went to the movies that day and Allison wanted to sit alone with you and I sat on the other side of the theater?"

"Nope."

"I saw you get up and I followed you into the lobby..."

"Never happened."

"Remember what you said to me?"

I laughed. "She tried to touch my dick. I didn't want to piss."

Mike laughed loudly. "As if you were just going to piss all over her!"

"Shut up."

"Jesus. Tenth grade and this girl wants to give you a handy in the theater and..." He took a drink. "Jesus man."

"Nevermind. You can't move in with me."

"Ahh, you'll just end up spending all your time here anyway."

"Probably."

Another lull in the conversation came and I thought about Allison Winslow. I would have sworn then that I had loved her. I had no idea what had become of her since high school. I thought I'd look her up.

"What happened man?"

"What do you mean?"

"To us. Man we had the whole thing figured out back then. We knew what we wanted. I have no idea what I want now."

"Me either. I don't think anyone does."

"I'm so fucking lost."

"We'll get you on your feet again. I promise."

"I'm glad you're around."

"Bros after hoes, sir."

"Bros after hoes."

We clinked our glasses.