Scott Douglas and his father, Nate, sit perched atop bar stools in a small tavern somewhere amongst what is left of the South Park neighborhood of Seattle. Father, like son, slowly sips on a draft beer in an American pint sized glass emblazoned with a random beer brand. Scott pulls at a freshly lit cigarette and deposits the ash into the emerald hued tray set in front of him. The father and son pair stare blindly ahead only breaking to glance at one another to express attentiveness.
“You don’t?” Scott counters.
Following an abbreviated sip of his beer, “I never felt you weren’t but I respected your decision and assumed if you faded away … Derrick would follow suit.” Nate back peddles slightly adding a sense of concern.
“Well, the hiatus and restructuring helped that along, I’m sure. Derrick’s a week to week guy. If he doesn't work, he doesn’t eat.” Scott assures.
“I remember those days.”
Scott flicks his cigarette against the ash tray again and laments; “At this point I’m not far from him. Courtney’s medical has drained me dry, pop.”
Nate sets his glass back down on the bar. “I told you …” he begins.
Scott interrupts, “No, I can’t do it. I’ve borrowed enough already. I’m able bodied and I can still earn, so it’s time to do it. Kerry’s departure only amplifies the point; I need to be back in that ring. If I would’ve kept going … we could have had some of the best matches of our lives together and who knows …” Scott pauses and drags from his cigarette, “... maybe, I could at least have gotten myself some spot dates over there with him.”
Scott flicks his ash again and raises his glass high and quick to down the remaining contents. He slides it toward the tending side of the bar and motions to the bartender for another. Nate begins to speak momentarily yet is anxiously stayed while the bartender approaches and confirms with Scott.
“Yeah, one more … Please.”
Once his polite refrain has met the minimum for social compliance, Nate returns fire attempting to lend perspective to his son’s rapidly deteriorating outlook. “Extenuating circumstances, son. Regardless of what could have been or would have been … even if you two set the place on fire for a few months and when his offer came down, you never could have left Courtney.”
Scott reaches out and accepts the freshly drawn beer while he smothers the butt of his smoking implement simultaneously.
“Granted, but if I would have actually been focusing on my career … rather than letting Derrick get in my head; She wouldn't be laying there in a coma. We both know that. You warned me … she warned me. But in the end, he won … without ever having to finish it.”
Nate tips his beer and thinks for a second. The two stare off into the glass lined wood paneling holding a bevy of assorted liquor and glasses. The silence gradually gets to Nate and he takes it as a cue. Downing the rest of his beer, he stands from his bar stool as it forcibly slides backward letting out a stuttered shriek.
“That’s his sister, Scott. I think you both lost.”
Scott freezes with his glass halfway to paydirt as Nate heads toward the door.
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