After a hot shower, I found myself in the dining area at Scooter’s and ordered wings and a beer.

      The decor and feel of the place had changed very little from my youth. The biggest difference was a small dance floor where a four lane bowling alley used to reside. Never an avid fan of the sport, I did have fond memories of working one summer as a pin-setter. Not a glamorous occupation, but it required no thinking, the alley was air-conditioned, and I could engage in my new cigarette smoking habit in private.

      Paid three dollars per game, I was able to substantially increase my fledging record collection, go to the movies with my friends every weekend, and still have enough money to treat my girlfriend to a romantic dinner of milkshakes and pizza at Henrietta’s Pizzeria. Henrietta’s had in time closed to make room for Fred’s Chicken Emporium, which in turn transformed itself into Heaven’s Burger Hut. Over the years the Hut must have fell out of favour because it was now Scooter’s Bar & Grill, whose claim of “The World’s Best Wings” I was about to put to a test.

      “I don’t believe it,” the male voice behind me said. “Steven Cassidy in the flesh.”

      I didn’t have to glance up to identify my one time best friend, Wayne Dugan. “Speaking of flesh - violated any farm animals lately?”

      “Still have the world’s smallest penis?”

      “Why don’t you ask your sister?”

      We looked at each other and smiled. Wayne was as big and as dumb looking as I remembered. He stood 6’2” with a trim muscular build, achieved by working day and night on his father’s pig farm.

      Wayne in turn appraised me. Like him, I imagined I hadn’t changed much over the years, at least not in appearance. I was still just shy of six feet tall, weighed about 175, with collar length brown hair, and a police-issued moustache. Just an average guy with average looks.

      And a boat load of emotional baggage.

      “Been a long time, buddy,” Wayne said, extending his hand which I shook enthusiastically. “Do you want some company?” he asked, grabbing the vacant chair across from me, spinning it backwards and sitting down.

      “Go right ahead.”

      Wayne shook his head in disbelief. “When Maria said you were back I thought she’d been sniffing paint thinner at first,” he said, reaching across the table to pick up one of my chicken wings.

      “You were talking to her?” I asked surprised.

      “We talk everyday.”

      “You two aren’t . . . you know . . .”

      “What - married?” Wayne laughed. “Are you kidding? I wish, but my wife would kill me!”

      “You - married? Didn’t your mother tell you not to fall for institutionalized girls?” I joked.

      “Constantly,” Wayne continued to laugh.

      “So who’s this unfortunate creature that took pity on you? Do I know her?”

      “Remember Trudy Babich? Blonde haired, 5’7” . . .”

      Dumb as a beach ball, I recalled. “Played basketball,” I said diplomatically. “Tutti Fruity Trudy.”

      “She’s the one,” Wayne replied. “Mother of our four kids.

      Oh my, I thought, hoping Wayne hadn’t seen me wince at the news.

      “Good for you. I’m glad to see you’re happy at last.”

      “Who said I’m happy?” Wayne howled. “Didn’t you just hear that I have a litter of children with Trudy Babich?”

      “So why’d you marry her then?”

      “Do the words SHOTGUN and WEDDING mean anything to you?”

      I couldn’t keep a straight face anymore and burst out laughing.

      “I’m sorry, Wayne,” I said, trying to control myself.

      Thankfully, Wayne Dugan was still able to laugh at himself.

      Never the brightest bulb in the bunch, when he did something truly stupid he would always admit to it, (no matter how much teasing his friends continued to heap on him).

      “You’re sorry? How do you think I feel?” he said with his trademark lopsided grin. “We were both nineteen, got real drunk at a beach party, did it once in the bushes, and three weeks later her father is ready to break down my parents’ door. What was I to do? My mother said she would disown me.”

      “And your father?”

      “He caved to my mother’s will - as usual.”

      “That’ll teach ya,” I smirked.

      “What about you - married or anything?”

      “Sort of between relationships at this time.”

      “Come back to town to check up on Maria?”

      “Does she need to be checked up on?” I asked nonchalantly, washing the remainder of my chicken order down with beer.

      “You did some number on her when you left, Stevie-boy,” Wayne said dryly.

      This was definitely not what I had wanted to hear but I remained silent as Wayne continued. “Trudy and Maria work together at Fleming’s Flower Shop - where Masson’s Electronics used to be.” I nodded, acknowledging I knew where the shop was located. “Anyway, Trudy says Maria still drops your name from time to time - you know, when they’re talking about high school and stuff.”

      “Is she married?”

      I hadn’t intended to be so blunt about the topic. After years of interrogating criminals, I knew the best way to get the information I was really after was by subtly working up to it in casual conversation. The direct approach rarely worked. However, my need to know anything about Maria - no matter how trivial - had caused me to fall out of my tried and true routine.

      Wayne suddenly seemed hesitant and ill at ease. He obviously knew the answer, yet appeared to be debating with himself if he should tell me or not.

      “I don’t know what happened between the two of you - and I’m not here to judge you, Steve - but whatever it was just seemed to kill Maria’s spirit to live. Since you left I think she’s gone on maybe four or five dates, all with guys from school. Friendship dates more than anything.”

      Like Ebenezer Scrooge, I wanted Wayne to just stop talking. I didn’t want to know the hurt I’d caused, or the effect I’d had over someone else’s life, due to my own selfish and immature actions. Especially when it came to Maria.

      Wayne could see how his words had affected my mood. “You were probably looking for a simple yes or no, weren’t you?”

      “I just wanted to hear the truth,” I said, “and that’s what you gave me.” I polished off my beer and pushed away the plate of discarded chicken bones.

      “Do you want another one?” Wayne asked, pointing to the empty beer bottle. “I’ll treat.”

      Without waiting for a response, he went to the bar and promptly brought back two more beers.

      “To old friends,”