He knew he would see her again.
As soon as he saw Jake's death notice in the newspaper, Joe knew he would be seeing Sophie. And of all the days of the year for it to happen, it had to be the one that had always meant the most to them. At least back when they meant something to each other.
He was devastated by his friends death, and there was no way he would miss paying his last respects, but he knew he would see her there, on that day.
But he didn't think she would be the very first person he would see when he walked into the funeral home. Yet there she was, the same short, wavy, strawberry blonde hair, streaked with gray now. The same slim figure, encased in a black dress that stopped just above her knees. Her black heels making her calf muscles pop, like they always had.
Her hourglass figure had straightened out some, and her sweet little ass was flatter, but when she turned to see who had entered, her light blue eyes were the same. And they very nearly stopped him dead in his tracks.
He walked up to her through sheer force of will, having been mentally prepared for this moment. "Hi Sophie, how've you been?" He couldn't read her eyes. They were always so expressive, but at that moment, they seemed to convey a range of emotions. He saw sorrow, but he thought he also saw fear, which was so unlike her. But also curiosity? Or maybe a hopefulness?
She extended her hand and her voice cracked a bit as she said, "Hello Joe. I'm good. How are you? You were as tight with Jake as anybody." They both knew that it was Jake who had inadvertently brought them together all those years before.
"I'm good too Soph, just stunned I guess." He took her hand and noticed it was warm and slightly sweaty. He smiled wryly and continued, "It's funny. Nobody thought that crazy bastard would see thirty, let alone fifty. I think I was starting to believe he was another Keith fucking Richards, and would outlive all of us!"
She laughed along with him, and he noted the crows feet along her eyes, the creases between her cheeks and mouth were deeper. He tried not to look at that brightly painted mouth, tried not to remember the things she could do with it.
He noticed that she was checking him out too. Her eyes took in his thick beard, he hadn't been able to grow a proper beard yet back then. And now it was thick and mostly gray, as was what was left of the hair on his head. Which was also way shorter than it used to be.
They parted soon after, Joe had to go through the ritual of signing the book, and giving his condolences to Jakes family, as well as catching up with what was left of the old gang.
He went through the repeated conversations of what was going on with everyone. The brief bio that he gave as a response each time felt repetitive the third time he had to explain it. By the time he'd made his way through the room it was excruciating.
Granted, he was glad to see many of the people in attendance. He had a bond with some of them that would never fade, despite the passage of time, or the fact that they had all grown up and lived different lives now.
And then he was kneeling at the casket. Going through the old Catholic ritual out of habit, even though he really didn't consider himself catholic anymore.
Once he had the Hail Mary out of the way, he took a moment to look at his old friend, the phrase "pray for us sinners" ringing in his head. "We certainly did some sinnin', didn't we old buddy?" Joe thought to his friend.
But this was not Jake, just his body. Gone was the devious smile and the eyes sparkling with mischief.
The funeral people had made Jake look dignified, respectable even, and Joe fought back a smile as he thought how ridiculous that was. "You never had a respectable bone in your body you fucker!" He thought.
Joe noticed they even managed to cover the scar on his face from Jake charging into a bar fight, just as Joe was swinging at some dude. It was forever known as his "friendly fire scar".
Joe stood and touched his friend's hand, one last time. He realized he was smiling at the memory of his friends indomitable spirit, even while the tears rolled down his face.
He sniffed and wiped his face, saying quietly, "Now look what you did you fucker!" Turning from the bias he saw Sophie, handing him a tissue with a look of understanding and compassion.
"Thanks Soph." He said as he took the tissue and wiped his eyes. "I told myself I wasn't going to cry." He said with a half chuckle.
"I think it's understandable, you two knew each other forever." She smiled. "Like grade school right?"
"Yep, sixth grade. I was the new kid in school and he picked on me, to see what I was all about I guess. We met on the playground, in the dodgeball circle, after school, and beat the snot out of each other until Ms. Furman broke us up. We called it a draw and were best friends ever since."
"Yeah, I remember that story now. You two were arguing about who won that fight well into your twenties!" Sophie laughed.
"Yeah," Joe chuckled "I need a smoke. I'm going outside. You still smoke?" Joe asked.
"Yeah." She said turning to go with him. "But just cigarettes." She added with a grin.
He laughed, "Yeah, definitely just cigarettes! Hell, Jakes sister would kick both our asses if we blazed up in the parking lot!"
She laughed along with him. For a minute they were both comfortable together again. They shared a smile, and started for the door.
They had to stop and give condolences to Jakes sister again on the way out. Joe giving her a big hug, fighting off the image of her reaction if she actually would catch them getting stoned in the parking lot. It just wouldn't be right to start laughing again.
Once outside they lit up their cigarettes, and talked briefly about the brands they now smoked, and how they transitioned from what they used to smoke. It used to be the same brand.
Then they got quiet. And the discomfort set in. And as Joe tried to think of something to say, she broke his thoughts with, "You know, I was worried about seeing you again. I wondered what it would be like."
"Yeah," He sighed, "I wondered too. I knew you were back in town. And I knew I'd see you here. I really didn't know what to expect."
Sophie was about to say something else, but was interrupted by Tommy, another one of the old gang. "Hey guys! A bunch of us are going over to the Neighbors for a few. You guys coming?!"
Joe laughed, "It's not Neighbors anymore Tommy. Hasn't been for years. New owners, new name!"
"Yeah, but dude it looks exactly the same inside! You been in there? And anyway we gotta do a couple of shots for Jake, man! Where else would we go?"
Joe and Sophie looked at each other and shrugged. "He's right, where else would we go?" Sophie said. "No argument here, hope they still have a kick ass jukebox!" Joe quipped.
And so within the hour the owners of the small neighborhood bar that used to be Neighbors were hit with more business than they typically had on a Friday night, let alone a Tuesday. But the bartender was not prepared, nor capable of handling that crowd of has been hooligans.
Everyone buying rounds, toasting Jake, hooting and hollering. Basically trying to party like it was the 1980's again. Even a few people slipping out the side door to catch a buzz, just like back in the day.
The jukebox had been updated of course, but still had some good tunes on it. It was playing constantly and the volume was turned up by request.
The woman behind the bar soon called her boss, which incidentally was her nephew, and with dollar signs in his eyes, he came to help tend bar.
He of course had heard all the stories about the crew that used to hang out in Neighbors, and he was both ecstatic about the business, and apprehensive about the crowd. He wanted to make money, but he didn't want any trouble.
He joked with everyone, and gave condolences when appropriate, and generally tried to buddy up with everyone. All the while he was loving the sound of his cash register singing.
At one point while everyone was mingling and catching up with each other's lives, Joe found himself standing next to Sophie at the bar. They smiled and said "Hey", cordially. The drinks had been flowing for a while by then, and neither of them were feeling any pain.
She seemed to take a deep breath and turned back to him. "I think I owe you an apology." He turned to face her, his eyebrows raised in a question.
"About how things ended back then. I was wrong to do that to you, and I'm sorry." He saw genuine concern in her expressive eyes, and was touched.
He scanned the room as the bartender took their glasses for a refill and she waited for a response. He noticed that the very last booth was vacant, and far from the crowd.
He finally looked back at her and smiled. "Buy this round and come have a drink with me." He nodded toward the back of the room.
Her painted lips curled up into the smile he remembered so well, as her eyes twinkled. "You got it." She said as she pulled more money from her purse.
With fresh drinks in hand he ushered her to the back of the bar, both of them smiling at old friends along the way, exchanging words of sorrow for the collective loss. But also joy in seeing everyone again, despite the circumstances. It was the general consensus that the crowd should get together more often, and not just when someone died.
When they finally made it to the last booth, he gestured for her to sit with her back to the room, and gave her a shitty little grin as he slid in alongside her, making her scoot over some more.
They were pretty much hidden from the rest of the people in the room, and in their own little world. He looked at her seriously and asked, "So you were saying?..."
