"Oh yeah? How’s Jack doing, anyway? I haven't seen that guy in so long." He sips his flute glass. Champagne. Cheap. Cold.

"He’s good… I mean, he’s still kinda fucked up mentally speaking with the bipolar… And he’s going through a breakup, we talked a few days ago… But otherwise he’s doing good." Flute glass. Champagne. Cold. Cheap.

"Is he still into drugs? Last I heard he was shooting heroin." Black bow tie. Movado wristwatch.

"Nah, man. He quit a long time ago… He takes medication now… Suboxone. It’s what they give addicts when they—"

"Yeah, I know what it is. Kinda weak if you ask me. I never understood why people like him can’t just stop. I mean, they call it a disease, but to me that’s a bullshit cop-out. I never had a problem putting anything down...” He gulps his Champagne. Gone. “Some people are just weak.”

"Everyone’s different, man. I get what you mean, though. My brother was on the same thing for a while and it never worked… he always just went back to using."

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that your brother’s weak, it’s just—"

"It’s okay, man. I get it, trust me. I distanced myself from Jack when he got into that shit… You know what he told me? He resents us, thinks we abandoned him." He drains his glass, waves at a waiter. "All of us.” He surveys the room.

"Abandoned? Fuck that, man. Sorry I didn’t want to be around a dope fiend… Remember he broke into Chris’s house and stole his mom’s pills? Only scumbags do shit like that…"

"Chris never found out who actually did that—"

"Dude, c’mon. You know it was Jack."

"It might’ve been, but that was a long time ago, man. He was our brother at one point, you remember that?" The waiter arrives. White jacket. Skinny black bow tie. Mid-thirties. Skid-marked bald head. Puffy blue eyes with heavy luggage and jaded red scruff. The waiter mechanically collects the empty glasses. “Can I get a bourbon? Neat, please."

"Very good, sir.” The waiter looks at the other one. “Anything for you?"

"Fuck it, I’ll take one, too."

"Very good, gentlemen. I’ll be back."

“That guy kinda looks like Jack…”

“A little.”

“…”

“…”

“… Real fancy wedding, huh? I didn’t know Tom had this kind of money…"

"Yeah, it’s beautiful. Tommy’s been doing well for himself… But hey, you should reach out to Jack. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you."

"Why? I don’t need that shit in my life. I’m a fucking lawyer, I have enough stress. Did I tell you I just made partner?"

"Wow, congrats, man! That’s amazing, good for you!” They slap backs. Shake hands. “Just think about it, okay? He misses us deep down, ya know?"

"Will you get off it already? I’m done with Jack. I haven’t seen him in like ten years!"

"Seriously, dude? He was our best friend when we were kids… You don’t care about him at all?"

"Not really. The fucker broke my nose, remember that? He head-butted me! Completely unprovoked—”

“What!? You told him he sucked at singing directly after you watched his band practice at Jose’s, then you guys got into an argument and you pushed him…” He laughs nervously. Looks for something to drink.

“Whatever… He thinks he’s this great writer, but he’s really just a junky. It’s his excuse to be a fuck up."

"Did you read his book? It’s actually really good, man."

"No, and I don’t want to. It’s probably just a bunch of woe-is-me junky war stories riddled with typos. He was never as talented as he thought he was."

The waiter arrives. "Here we are, gentlemen. Cheers and enjoy." He bows, walks away with stunted elegance. Tainted grace.

"That dude looks exactly like Jack, right? Kinda weird…”

“We’re in Ireland, man. Everyone here looks like Jack.”

“Right… I still can’t believe we’re in fuckin’ Ireland! I wanna get married here…" He sips his whiskey. "What? What’s with you?"

"I dunno, man. Jack was our friend…"

"Jesus, dude. What does he even do? Does he have a job? My guess is no." He gulps the whiskey. One finger left.

"He’s a bartender."

"Wow! A thirty-year-old barman! He’s killing it! I bet his parents are so proud. Oh wait, they fuckin’ hate ‘em, too!" He cackles. Last sip. He snaps at the waiter.

The waiter ignores him.

"You’re being a dick, Bob."

"Oh, relax! I’m fucking around, Kenny. It’s a wedding, for Chrissake. Lighten up."

"Didn’t your sister’s fiancé die from an OD?"

"What’s that got to do with anything? Why the fuck would you bring that up? He was a troubled guy… He had a shitty childhood."

"And Jack didn’t?"

"Jack’s father is loaded! Their house was huge! Do they still live in Walpole?"

"No, they sold their house years ago. He’s not loaded, dude. And it’s not like he gave Jack any money. After he got into drugs, they abandoned him."

"There’s that word again, abandoned! It was his choice to do drugs, Kenny. It’s not my fault he’s a fuckin’ fiend… Why the hell should I care? I have my own life."

"He was a part of your life… all of our lives. Every person in this room has a happy memory with Jack. All the parties he threw when his parents were down the Cape… The hot tub out back… You remember when you fell off his deck with that bottle of rum?"

"Oh shit! Yeah…" He smiles. Remembers. "Almost killed me. We smoked that huge joint, and I was walking to the tub with the bottle… I was so high I forgot there were stairs… I stepped off and ate shit." He laughs. "That was the only booze we had, too. Jack was pissed…"

"Right, then he went and stole a thirty-rack from his neighbor's garage, the crazy bastard!"

They laugh. Together.

"I guess it’s not all bad… He’s going through a breakup?"

"Yeah."

"How long was he with the girl?"

"A while. Over five years, at least. He met her after he kicked drugs. She’s this super healthy, normal girl from New York. I think she teaches yoga or something like that."

"Do you know what happened? Did he relapse?" He looks at his empty glass. Waves at the waiter.

"No, I think it had more to do with money… He has a hard time holding down a job, ya know? All he wants to do is write. And bartenders don’t make a lot… It’s a volatile industry, or so he tells me."

"I dunno, man. Sounds like more junky bullshit. They’re compulsive liars."

The waiter arrives. "Yes, gentlemen? How is everything? Will we be hitting the dance floor this evening?"

"Another whiskey. Kenny, you want one?"

"I’m good, still working on this one… No dancing for us, my friend. Thank you."

The waiter smiles. Collects the other glass without looking. Leaves.

"That fuckin’ guy… Can we please change the subject? It’s killing my mood."

"Fine. But I still think you should reach out. Just think about it, okay?"

"Kenny, I don’t want to thin—"

"Hey, guys! Oh my God, this is incredible, right? I fucking missed you both so much! How are you?" Burnt brunette. Kaleidoscopic tattoos. Office job in the sad soft suburbs. Never left. Thrifted dress. Marlboro Red breath. A hotter sister she hates. Rocks. Anorexic boulders sipping white wine over ice.

"Hey, Ellie! We were just talking about Jack. Have you heard from him lately?"

"Oh… no, not really. I thought he was dead." She laughs.

He laughs. "Right! I hadn’t thought of him in years until Kenny brought him up."

"He’s still alive."

"Good for him. Honestly, between us… I never really liked him. He was always so… I don’t know, pretentious? I think the last time I saw him was at Justin’s funeral… he looked like shit. I mean, he shouldn’t have been there, right? To show up like he did… He was wearing a brown suit for Chrissake!"

"I remember that."

"How? You weren’t even there, Bob."

"What? Yes, I was!"

"How can you say you didn’t like him? You used to say you loved him, that he was like your brother."

"All right, this is depressing. Can we talk about something else? We’re at a wedding! Let’s have fun! Oh, Savvy! Come here!" She waves Savvy over.

Savvy arrives. "Hey, guys! I’m so fucking happy you’re here! I’m just so… happy! I missed you so much!” Savvy sniffs, licks her lips, swipes her nose.

"Hey, Sav. Missed you, too. How’s Eric doing? Still waiting tables?” He looks at Kenny and smirks.

"He’s great, Bobby… Actually, he just scored some blow from one of the bartenders, anyone down?"

"I’m good, thanks, Sav—"

"Fuck yeah! We’ll talk later, Kenny. Good to see ya, man."

He slaps Kenny’s shoulder. Leaves with Savvy.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” Ellie says. Following.

Kenny shrugs. Finishes his glass.

Remembers Jack.

Note—Please excuse the rough audio. I’m living in a new space and it’s hard to find enough silence to record. And I neglected to bring a mic stand, so there are some plosives/transients that were simply unavoidable. I can only imagine what my new housemates were thinking as they listened to my paltry voice acting. Oh, well. Fuck ‘em.