BECK
“How much beer did you bring?” I ask Dean as he loads box after box into the back of Steve’s truck.
“What? It’s a long weekend. I wanted to make sure we were stocked up.”
“For what, an apocalypse?” Steve asks.
“Shut up. What did you bring?”
Steve holds up two bottles, both Scotch.
“Much more compact. I assumed Beck would bring the bourbon.”
I hold up the one bottle of bourbon by the neck before loading it into the truck. It’s a long weekend, but I plan to enjoy it, not drink so much that I forget it. I think Dean’s trying to forget his divorce more than anything.
I try not to judge. I’ve been there too. I guess the difference was that my divorce was mutual. Kim and I didn’t fit. We tried to make it work, but it just didn’t. She hates my cabin. She hates camping and being in na
