we had all formed a sort of circle around Oliver as he talked about how wonderful things were in Boston and in the world of commercial real estate. It felt as if he had completely taken over.
I broke from the pack and made myself another round, then hung back against the fringe to observe. There was a lightness in my head. As I looked at the others, I felt I didn’t belong here. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but there were some things I wanted to accomplish. I needed to accomplish.
Lonny began asking Oliver about the kind of car he drove and, as expected, it was quite impressive. Without breaking stride, Lonny continued on about his own car.
“I saw it,” Oliver said. Lonny beamed. “It had dealer plates.”
Lonny shrugged. “So?”
“So, you don’t actually own the car. You just get to use it, to display it.”
“Well, yeah, but, that …” His drink came to his lips and the rest of his worlds were muddled in the slurps.
Dale gave me a smirk and walked to my side.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Just seems weird. Us being all together again.”
“Not quite all.”
Yes, there was a noticeable absence.
“Any word on Woody?” I asked.
“Hasn’t checked in,” Oliver said, gulping his drink.
“They won’t give his room away, will they?” Lonny asked.
“There can’t be much demand this time of year,” Dale responded.
“Mostly leaf peepers,” Oliver said, “coming to see the foliage. But I paid for his room just in case.”
“Well, that was good of you,” Lonny muttered.
“Just a drop in the bucket, Mudge.”
I hoped Woody was just delayed. One of the things I wanted most out of this trip was to see how he was doing.
“He’s not the only one not here,” I said.
Silence filled the room. Nobody made eye contact. Then Lonny broke the silence.
“Hey, come on guys,” he said between sips. “We’re here to remember the good times of the Jokers Club. Not the bad.”
“He’s right,” Dale said.
Oliver smiled. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Now, aren’t we supposed to get something to eat?”
* * *
It was during dinner at the Loon Tavern downtown that I realized how far removed the Jokers Club was from our adult lives. The talk at the table centered around jobs and each of our lives. Oliver was extremely successful in real estate and pulling in all kinds of money. Lonny babbled on and on about selling cars. Wives were mentioned briefly. Lonny, the only one with kids, rambled on about how wonderful they were.
But the more I listened to everybody, the more I began to think this wasn’t really the Jokers Club. The Jokers Club was a group of kids who laughed and played and could take the world in their hands, spin it like a top and hop on. Not that I expected us to act like we were twelve again, but I at least hoped we would be able to respond and interact with each other with that bond of friendship that burned inside us so brightly as children. Those were magic times for me. But maybe, like an old magician, we’d lost our spells with time. Maybe Jason Nightingale ruined that for us all.
On the way back to the Tower House Inn, I knew what was really important to me. This trip had become a quest of many things, but I had resolved myself to accomplish one task. The past held the secret for me. I had felt it all day today, and I felt it in seeing my old friends. The Jokers Club was the key.
I wanted to get my book written. I wanted to recapture the imagination that I left behind when I left this town. It was definitely here. I could feel it in everything I saw. It was buried beneath layers of the past, but not too deep that I couldn’t unearth it.
The Jokers Club would be the focal point. It would have to be. There were tales and dreams that we lived. I could almost taste the moments, savor them. Sip them from a bottle and cork it to save some for later. There was a tale to tell. A tale that was not yet complete. Jason Nightingale would be a big part of
I broke from the pack and made myself another round, then hung back against the fringe to observe. There was a lightness in my head. As I looked at the others, I felt I didn’t belong here. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but there were some things I wanted to accomplish. I needed to accomplish.
Lonny began asking Oliver about the kind of car he drove and, as expected, it was quite impressive. Without breaking stride, Lonny continued on about his own car.
“I saw it,” Oliver said. Lonny beamed. “It had dealer plates.”
Lonny shrugged. “So?”
“So, you don’t actually own the car. You just get to use it, to display it.”
“Well, yeah, but, that …” His drink came to his lips and the rest of his worlds were muddled in the slurps.
Dale gave me a smirk and walked to my side.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Just seems weird. Us being all together again.”
“Not quite all.”
Yes, there was a noticeable absence.
“Any word on Woody?” I asked.
“Hasn’t checked in,” Oliver said, gulping his drink.
“They won’t give his room away, will they?” Lonny asked.
“There can’t be much demand this time of year,” Dale responded.
“Mostly leaf peepers,” Oliver said, “coming to see the foliage. But I paid for his room just in case.”
“Well, that was good of you,” Lonny muttered.
“Just a drop in the bucket, Mudge.”
I hoped Woody was just delayed. One of the things I wanted most out of this trip was to see how he was doing.
“He’s not the only one not here,” I said.
Silence filled the room. Nobody made eye contact. Then Lonny broke the silence.
“Hey, come on guys,” he said between sips. “We’re here to remember the good times of the Jokers Club. Not the bad.”
“He’s right,” Dale said.
Oliver smiled. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Now, aren’t we supposed to get something to eat?”
* * *
It was during dinner at the Loon Tavern downtown that I realized how far removed the Jokers Club was from our adult lives. The talk at the table centered around jobs and each of our lives. Oliver was extremely successful in real estate and pulling in all kinds of money. Lonny babbled on and on about selling cars. Wives were mentioned briefly. Lonny, the only one with kids, rambled on about how wonderful they were.
But the more I listened to everybody, the more I began to think this wasn’t really the Jokers Club. The Jokers Club was a group of kids who laughed and played and could take the world in their hands, spin it like a top and hop on. Not that I expected us to act like we were twelve again, but I at least hoped we would be able to respond and interact with each other with that bond of friendship that burned inside us so brightly as children. Those were magic times for me. But maybe, like an old magician, we’d lost our spells with time. Maybe Jason Nightingale ruined that for us all.
On the way back to the Tower House Inn, I knew what was really important to me. This trip had become a quest of many things, but I had resolved myself to accomplish one task. The past held the secret for me. I had felt it all day today, and I felt it in seeing my old friends. The Jokers Club was the key.
I wanted to get my book written. I wanted to recapture the imagination that I left behind when I left this town. It was definitely here. I could feel it in everything I saw. It was buried beneath layers of the past, but not too deep that I couldn’t unearth it.
The Jokers Club would be the focal point. It would have to be. There were tales and dreams that we lived. I could almost taste the moments, savor them. Sip them from a bottle and cork it to save some for later. There was a tale to tell. A tale that was not yet complete. Jason Nightingale would be a big part of
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