Beer and Pizza.
By John Filby. 02-04-2018. 0817 hrs.
My husband has his best friend over today. He needs to have the company, something I can’t or don’t give him anymore.
Yes, every morning he wakes, looks at the world and says good morning to me, and that he loves me. Then the day starts. This is the routine.
Today and probably into the evening my husband and his childhood friend will spend time together. He needs this and he gets it.
No doubt it will be pizza and beer and whatever sport happens to be on television. This is their bonding. I don’t mind at all because these things and the camaraderie he craves, and I cannot give this to him.
The TV is on and it is golf, they chat about the players and the rules and joke that they could do better even though neither of them has ever picked up a club in their lives. One beer down and some crisps are opened. The saltier the crisps the more beer they will consume.
The channels flick and now they settle on some kind of football, the round ball or not, football is watched. Another beer is opened as the first is downed.
During the ad breaks the channels flick and they laugh or joke about a commercial knowing all the words verbatim. They might stop at an old movie with classic actors pre-WWII. They might make up the dialogue, which is always corny. My husband knows that these films are what I like, and the mocking is only half-hearted because secretly he would give up any one and a half hours to watch one with me., but not on a Friday night with his mate.
His friend takes control f the remote and the game is back on. Time for beer number three, next ad break and he will attend to the beckoning fridge. My husband hears the door bell and gets up to answer, it is the pizza delivery boy. He returns to the couch and places the pizza on the coffee table, next to his readied beer.
The pizza is half-half. He always orders the same pizza, in fact I think the store knows the order by heart, as it has not changed in over eight years since this address became ours. Friday night is always takeaway night, a break from cooking after the busy work week, and most likely pizza is ordered.
His friend looks at the pizza knowing what to expect as it is always the same. They catch each other’s grin and a smirky laugh emerges and then full-on laughter, like the two adolescent boys of their past. They have been friends since kindergarten.
They both reach for a slice of pizza using paper towel as a plate, saves washing up. I told him this many years ago and he does it each week. He doesn’t like washing up. The cheese stretches from box to mouth and then snaps, as the cheese recoils back to the carton.
The pizza goes into their mouths and there is a moment of silence as they chew. The game continues in front of them.
My husband needs this time with those he loves and cares about. I am happy that this Friday night staple is happening. He is laughing and smiling for the first time in a long time. I am happy. I have not seen him like this, but I can see sadness and unhappiness behind his smiles, he tries so hard to force his happiness for me, and those around him.
I have not been good company for him of late. I am always around, but it is hard to be the way it was before when you have been dead so long.
**Friday used to be girl’s night out, we would go to the movies or dinner and drinks maybe a little dancing, but this has not been for some time and not tonight either.
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