Highway to Hell

Priscilla, Kate and I decide to take a trip. Think "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure."

We book a hotel in DC and plan to meet on a random Friday when Priscilla can find a break in her extremely bountiful social schedule, Kate can get a weekend pass from parenthood, and I don't have custody of Hil and Pat. The Holy Trinity of freedoms.

I bail out of the office (because who cares what I accomplish now...) at 3 pm on Friday and race across the bridge to retrieve Kate from Hell's twin sister, her office. We barrel into traffic like bats out of Hell, giving rise to images of Thelma and Louise to every person I nearly run off the road.

Soon enough we are stuck in wicked traffic and fending off The Crankies. Priscilla will beat us there, get to the bar first and become the de facto Party Queen while we are still inching through Delaware. Boo.

And as I sit at the wheel dictating texts for Kate to send from my phone, Scott calls.

I answer the phone, looking at Kate for her reaction which is somewhere between WTF and morbid curiosity.

We exchange greetings and pleasantries, and have a nice chat.He tells me that his daughter and her boyfriend have broken up, that he himself still maintains a friendship with the ex-boyfriend in a bizarre breach of parental loyalty, that the boy is now dating some high school girl that his daughter got a job at the place where all three of them work, etc etc etc. Convenience store meets Peyton Place. He asks about my job search, about the kids, about the trip to DC. Tells me he had so much fun when I took him there for his birthday. I recall the trip very fondly myself. It was truly one of the better memories I've filed away for posterity. I still chuckle when I recall the dude picking his pants out of his ass crack at the Irish bar.

When the call has ended, Kate looks at me and says, "What the hell was, THAT?"

And I proceed to tell her that Scott and I might actually be able to be friends. It's a long shot, but I hate to go through life with enemies. She tells me the most alarming thing about the phone call was its pleasant simplicity. No games, no agenda, no posturing. Just pleasant conversation. Like friends should have.

I tell her to make no mistake. He is just walking along the plateau with me. Being patient. Being a good friend. Giving me the space he is smart enough to know I need to get comfortable. And then when my life has once again spun royally out of control, like it routinely does, he is banking on being the one I turn to.

And I assure her I won't.