Chapter Four
There's Still Time

The evening was winding down and he still hadn't plucked up the nerve to talk to her. What was wrong with him? He had been waiting for this day for so long; the least he could do was say hello. But there hadn't been an opportunity to talk with her; she never seemed to be alone. She hadn't made a move to approach him either, so maybe she didn't want to talk to him. Skittery was making himself crazy with all the thoughts rattling around in his head. He had to do something about it.

He said his goodbyes to those sitting at his table. He then crossed the room to talk with Racetrack, shaking hands and bidding farewell to those along the way.

"Hey Race," Skittery said, reaching out to shake Racetrack's hand. "Thanks for doing all this. It was nice."

"You leavin'?" Racetrack asked, frowning, but accepting the handshake.

"Yeah, I gotta work tomorrow," he replied. "You gonna need any help with the clean up?"

"Nah!" Racetrack shook his head. "We should be alright. Thanks." Skittery made to leave but was called back. "Hey, Skitts…"

He turned. "Yeah?"

"Did ya even talk to her?"

He shook his head sadly. "No."

"There's still time," Racetrack assured him.

Skittery just shrugged. "What's the point?"

"Look, I'm comin' to check on you in the mornin'," Racetrack said flatly. "You better be there and you better be sober."

A half-smile pulled at Skittery's lips. "It's okay, Racetrack. I'll be fine."

The look his friend was giving him was not that of someone convinced, but Skittery appreciated the concern. All evening it had been a temptation, but he did not give in. He wouldn't give in.

He turned and left his friend's establishment, disappointed. The reunion, for him, had not gone as planned – not even close. He trudged down the block, his hands shoved in his pockets. At the corner he stopped and pulled out a cigarette and a match. The flame was just about to meet the end of the tube when he heard the distant sound of hurried footstep. His name echoed down the street, reverberating straight through his heart. He stopped in mid-motion, letting the flame extinguish, and glanced up the street.

Claire was moving quickly toward him. She slowed as neared and furrowed her brows. Skittery didn't move a muscle; he simply stared at her. Some things never change.

"You're really leaving?" she half stated, half asked. "It's been eight years, Skittery! I think I deserve more than a cold shoulder. I want to hear about your life. Aren't you in the least bit curious about mine?"

"I don't need to ask about yer life," Skittery grumbled, not really meaning to be unpleasant. "It doesn't take much to figure it out. As for mine, it went to shit and I only just recovered – still recovering, in fact. That's all there is to it."

She stared at him for a moment, perplexed by his bitterness. "You've got my life figured out? Well, that makes one of us." Frowning, she added, "What has happened to you?"

"Forget it. Go back to your happy little life and forget about me," he replied, turning away from her. He couldn't help it; anger was the only defense he had against the world.

"There are few things happy about my life, Sam Evans!" she said loudly, her voice wavering. "And it makes coming back here that much harder!"

Drawing in a deep breath, Skittery faced her again and frowned. "At least you've got something to show for it, being married and starting a family. I've got nothing but a couple of lousy jobs."

"What?" she replied, eyebrows flying upward. She looked wildly perplexed. And then her jaw dropped slightly as it suddenly dawned on her. She blinked. "Is that what you think? That Mush and I are married?"

Surprised by the mild accusing tone in her voice, Skittery felt a little confused. "Well, yeah."

"Mush and I are not married," she said firmly. "And the little girl is Mush's daughter, not mine." She sighed, irritated. "Why is it that everyone's got to jump to conclusions instead of just askin', huh?"

"Yer not married?" he repeated, truly looking at her for the first time that night. His heart swelled ever so slightly, but he wouldn't let himself go overboard.

"No," she replied. "I'm not."

His heart felt lighter than it had in years. She wasn't married to Mush; she wasn't married to anyone. The two had been able to stay friends after ending their romantic relationship and became business partners, opening a small diner called Gloria's. A couple of years later Mush met and married a woman, Jane Lutheringer, and they had Celia almost a year later. But, just a year after Celia was born, Jane passed away. Since then Claire has been helping Mush to care for the little girl. It explained a lot.

Skittery felt a somewhat foolish for not inquiring more from the start; it would have saved him from the flood of negative emotions. None of that mattered anymore. After sorting out the misunderstanding, he shared a little bit about his life, not really wanting to go into full details right away about the hardships that he had endured. They parted ways, agreeing to see one another again before she left the city.

There was a knock at the door just as Skittery had finished tying the laces on his boots. Opening the door, he found Racetrack on the other side.

"Told ya I'd come check on ya!"

"I told ya I'd be fine," Skittery replied, smirking a little.

Racetrack arched an eyebrow. "Yer in a cheerful mood this mornin'."

Skittery grabbed his cap, shut the door, and grinned. "We talked last night."

"And?"

"I think I can get her back."