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It was late on a Tuesday night, the bowling alley was practically empty. Three men sat at lane number one, a half empty pitcher of beer on the counter behind them. They were all in their late forties and early fifties. Their greying hair and respectable clothes spoke of years of acquired wisdom, yet there was a cold tension as they sat each staring at something different yet nothing in particular. The alley was strangely quiet; like a hostess confronted by three unexpected guests — unsure how to entertain them.
“Well how long are we gonna wait for the bum?” The man that spoke was the most disheveled of the group. His face hadn’t been shaven that day and his eyes were weary from long hours working to feed children he rarely saw.
“Jesus Olin, don’t get started in it again. I come here to bowl, nothing else. Not to fight, not to get on anyone’s case.”
“I come to bowl too Tom. But my point is, why join a bowling team if you’re not going to show up and bowl? Does he think he’s better than us? We gotta wait for him? Eleven O-clock is Eleven O-Clock and it is now eleven twenty five.”
Tom responded with his own expression of weariness. Wrinkled eyes rolled up in exasperation and his bushy salt and pepper mustache contracted over his pursed lips. He rubbed his mouth with a hand and leaned back in the uncomfortable orange plastic chair that was now warm with body heat. He really didn’t like bowling and he really didn’t like Olin either.
The third man, Danny, was dressed sharply and in contrast to the other two men, his hair was neatly gelled. He held his beer in one hand and leaned back with one ankle up on a knee, apparently at ease. But there was a look of desperation in his eyes undermining his air of confidence. He seemed disinterested in the other two men. If he had been waiting twenty five minutes for business associates he would have been very put out and someone probably would have felt the wrath of his tongue, but in the bowling alley, on his own personal time and not the company’s, he seemed somewhat relieved to have wasted twenty-five minutes.
“Lately I’ve been thinking you guys don’t care about this bowling team.” It was Olin again, leaning forward now and running a hand through his uncombed hair. “I mean we’re good, but with a little more commitment we could be great. Don’t you guys want to be league champs?” There was a gleam of purpose in his eye now. Tom looked at him with the exasperation of an overworked teacher.
“Maybe we could find someone to replace Peter. I know this guy at work, real nice guy, a good bowler too — probably he’d be interested.” Olin looked from Tom to Danny.
“Where is your loyalty?” Said Tom, his voice quavering ever so slightly. “I understand you’re a man of little patience, but I’m not going to dump Peter just like that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? ‘Man of little patience’?”
Tom scrutinized Olin with his arms crossed. Olin leaned forward with his hands on his knees. Danny watched his teammates with an unattached bemusement.
“You may not like the way I’ve lived my life, and I may regret some of the decisions I’ve made but that little statement of yours demonstrates sweeping ignorance. You know, Tom, you like to make generalizations about things you hardly know anything about.”
Danny smiled. Tom looked at Olin coldly. Olin continued, his face flushed with energy, “And while we’re talking, Tom, you’ve been coming to every god-damn practice for two years and you don’t say a thing, like you think we’re a bunch of awful assholes subjecting you to the torture that is bowling. I like to bowl. I like it a lot and maybe I take it as an insult when you refuse to participate, to give me a god-damn high five every now and then.”
“Hey, hey guys take it easy.” Danny had uncrossed his legs and was regretting not intervening earlier. “I’m sure Tom here loves the game as much as you or I, he just doesn’t express it in the same ways.”
“He doesn’t express shit, he bowls like a god damn machine. Hey, there’s an idea, we could replace Peter with a bowling machine. We could build him ourselves; Bowl-man 5000 we’d call him. We could even give him one of those silly bow ties Peter always wears — no one would know the difference. If it works out we could replace Tom here too, god knows it’d be a livelier group.”
Danny laughed, but his expression changed quickly, “C’mon though Olin, you don’t mean that about Tom. We need him; we’re a team. Peter though, he is getting to be a problem, I mean he interferes with playing time and scheduling. Great guy, but he’s not working with us. What I’m saying, I guess, is that I’d like to meet this guy of yours Olin. That is if you’re okay with it Tom. This should be a team decision.” Danny looked earnestly into his teammate’s eyes.
Tom felt the two sets of eyes on him and the feeling was unbearable. “Do whatever you want, I don’t give a damn. I really don’t care.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Danny stared at his shoe, and then sensing the silence with a start he said, “So, you guys ready to play?”
“He’s probably at home with that wife of his.” Danny bit his lip, Tom looked away. Olin continued. “She’s probably made him dinner; damn how I miss that — Carla used to make me dinner every night... every night.” Danny searched for ways to change the subject.
“Hey Danny, whatever happened to you and that girl. I told you she really liked you.” It was not the direction Danny wanted to see the conversation take.
“It didn’t work out. How’s Carla doing these days, she still in the same place?”
Olin gave him an exaggerated, hurt look.
“What the hell was that? You think I’m an idiot; you can just up and artfully change the subject; sneak one by Olin? That girl liked you — I know. So whadda ya mean it didn’t work out?”
“She wasn’t my type okay. It’s not like it was your fault man.” Danny laughed but Olin looked at him sharply with eyes of both concern and indignation.
“What are you? You going gay on me? She was hot. Tell me she had genital herpes, just don’t tell me you’re fruity Danny, I couldn’t take that.” They stared each other in the eyes and then there was a softening; the hard lines of their faces eased into smiles and they both chuckled lightly.
“No Olin, I’m not gay.” Danny said with a smile. “She just had a grating personality, I couldn’t handle that.”
“You could’ve taken the goods for a test drive though,” said Olin with a grin, “A little test drive don’t mean you have to buy.” Olin poured himself another beer. After taking a long swig he said, “How ‘bout you, Tom, you saw her, was that not a nice piece of ass? Mmm-mmm” Olin closed his eyes as if savoring a big bite of seasoned steak.
“I don’t know, Olin.” Tom looked tired.
Olin looked at him carefully, rubbing his hand once through his hair. He put both of his hands back on his knees. “How long has it been Tom? Since Laura...” He trailed off at the stern look from Danny.
“Two and a half years.” said Tom thoughtfully, as if to himself. He gazed vacantly ahead and they thought they had lost him. “You know Olin, you’re lucky. You can sit there and make wise-cracks because you still have some control. Carla and Denise — what happened was your decision. I envy what you still have; I don’t expect you to appreciate it, but that’s my problem.”
There was a deathly silence in the bowling alley, even the soda machine’s cooling system stopped humming. Danny searched for some way to ease out of the awkward silence but Tom continued, “I just want to bowl in peace. I don’t care if Peter is late sometimes or not. Alright?”
“Alright, sure.” Olin leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair; hair that was grayer than it had been the day before. The soda machine clicked back on and Danny crossed his leg back over his knee. He checked his watch and was pleased to see it was 11:40.
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