He was crying like a baby. But that's not fair to babies. He was crying like in little league when he was that kid who had a phantom injury every game and stretched it out until his embarrassed mother came on the field.
He wasn't a nerd because a nerd goes into right field picks daisies and dreams of dungeons and dragons. No, he was a jocky little ten year old who loved the injured limelight. If a glove tagged him out at first he'd go gutshot. Nothing worse than a jock who cracks near competition.
Now here he was, 37 years old, crying to the waitress. Classic Marlon, being a complete suck pill.
(It's not often we get together is the thing. The guys from school come see me in the city once every two or three years, and every time Marlon finds a way to make it about what a mess he is)
"Millie left me."
"Shit, Marlon." says Me.
"Why?" asks Jim.
"She's a woman, that's why!"
(Uh huh)
"Maybe it's for the best." says Jim.
"Let's get drunk." says Bill.
"She says she doesn't love me anymore." says Marlon.
(No shit, Marlon! Who didn't see that coming?! You love dirt bikes and butt porn)
Marlon goes to the jukebox. He picks Delta Dawn. (Helen Reddy? Marlon!)
He's dancing on the intro, swaying back and forth, anchored to where his outstretched arm keeps his Miller Light at eye level. And then he's doing what Marlon does: singing in a falsetto when the song doesn't require it.
"Whatever happened to Ally?"
"What now?" I say as if I didn't hear him.
"Ally." says Marlon.
"She's married." says Jim. (And we give him the eyes of death)
"Married? To who?" says Marlon.
(Why not just say Hercules at this point)
"Danny Stacey."
"Who's that?"
"Danny Lipp."
"Really?"
"He changed his name to Danny Stacey." says Bill, thinking it will help.
"Why?"
"He was married to this woman --" begins Jim.
"-- Named Stacey?" asks Marlon.
"-- Named Sue." replies Jim.
"But she made Danny take her last name."
"What does this have to do with Ally?"
"I don't know." says Jim.
"Danny and Ally live in Pahrump. She's nursing old people while he does a ham radio show on monsters and a podcast about Playstation games."
"You guys have dibs on everybody." says Marlon. (he meant tabs).
"Marlon, we all need to stop talking about Ally and Millie and Sue Stacey. Tonight is about us."
"She had eyes like a -- "
(before he finishes this sentence let me say, Marlon is one of those guys who declares as if he has a something to put behind "like a..:, then never does: like two reflecting pools? like Bette Davis eyes? like Gollum when he sees The Precious?)
"And her boobs.. nice ones." Says Marlon. (And her eyes?)
Jim, Bill, Me -- we're all eyeing each other to see if this is the year we quietly walk away and leave Marlon to talk to the wall.
And in that moment Marlon says this, "I have to stop feeling sorry for myself."
(We all slacken our jaws -- Wha?)
"Don't I?"
(no one dares a nod)
"I mean, sure, Ally dumped me, but then I met Gina, and we had a good time before she cheated on me with her own cousin. And sure Millie left me also, but Millie has brain damage. I have a good job prospect at Crump's Waste Disposal. And I'm only 26 credits away from my cyber security degree at the University of Phoenix. Life is looking up!
(We're about to agree with him, but he doesn't let us..)
"I'm Marlon Miller, and I'm six weeks sober before tonight. It might not seem like much, but I was killing Red Bull and Vodkas like a boss! I'm 34 (37) years old, I have a decent amount of hair left ( he doesn't), I'm not fat fat (he is), I have four hundred dollars in my bank account (wow) -- any woman would like to meet me, (the waitresses have bailed on our table like we're on fire) -- life is good! Now come on guys, let's get blasted! Tonight Marlon's gonna get his dicky sticky! (no he isn't)
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