Potpourri of Tales

3. Learning to Live

Gregg Miller had a fixed rhythm to his life, and he wasn't all that fond of improv.

Still, when invited, he'd make an exception for a guys' night out at the bar. Of course, their whole friend group shared an unspoken understanding: invitations only really came when the inviting party needed something.

It was Ross who had texted Gregg this time around—only Gregg, which made Gregg suspect that it was probably a money thing. After all, Gregg was the only one of them making six figures. The only one with a nice suburban home, fully paid off, on account of his parents. He could lend money to his friends easily.

But they were on their third round of beers, and Ross was still mysteriously tight-lipped about whatever his motivation was.

"So, what's up with you, Ross?" Gregg had to ask, genial.

"Aw, can't I just treat my friend to a drink every now and then?" Ross smiled. "Just wanted to talk."

Gregg found this highly doubtful. His suspicions were confirmed when, a pint later, their conversation approached unusual territory—at least, it was unusual for Gregg and Ross, because they never discussed each other's personal lives.

"When are you gonna pop the question with Vanessa?" Ross asked.

"Uh." Gregg raised an eyebrow. "Not... anytime soon?" Frankly, he felt his insides recoil at the thought.

There wasn't anything wrong with Vanessa. He couldn't ask for a better girlfriend (to make all his friends jealous), but he just... wasn't interested in tying himself down. Neither was Ness; though they'd been dating for half a year, they hadn't yet breached the topic of moving in together. And, up until now, Gregg had thought Ross was on the same page, so the question was startling. "Why do you ask?"

Ross swirled his beer absently. "I mean, she's pretty. Better get a ring on her before she up and flies away." At Gregg's unimpressed face, he sighed. "I may have met a girl. Nice one. You know, the kind that makes you start thinking about the future 'n all that."

Gregg did not know.

"Like—" Ross laughed and knocked back his pint. "What the hell do I want? Where the hell are any of us going?" He thumped his glass on the table. "Since you're the only one of us who's actually in a long-term relationship, well, I wanted to hear your thoughts. O Wise One."

"I actually don't," Gregg said. "No thoughts. Not going anywhere." Where are any of us going might seem a profound question to a buzzed Ross, but it had no meaning to Gregg.

Ross snorted. "Oh, you're going somewhere, all right. You're coasting straight into oblivion. C'mon, you've gotta have something."

"Been coasting since I was born," Gregg said, grinning. "You wish you were me."

"Maybe I did a year ago. Maybe not anymore," Ross said.

"Because of the girl?"

"That, and I think I've found my raison d'être. I think I want to be an author. Children's book author."

Right, and the last time they'd talked, Ross had insisted that his purpose in life was to become a paramedic, so Gregg was just a tad bit skeptical. Actually, Gregg wasn't sold on the whole idea of a raison d'être in the first place—why would he need one to throw his comfortable life off-balance? Why tear himself to pieces trying to find one, the way Ross did? And, of all things—"Why children?"

"Bring smiles to their little faces, spreading happiness, all that."

Gregg did not see the appeal.