Conversation With a Savage
A F T E R T H R E E pulls Ben kills his beer. I’m barely past the neck of mine. He exhales a breath of satisfaction; the way people do after having an orgasm or finishing a baked potato. He doesn’t bother to wipe his mouth.
“I love this beer,” he says. His jowls are wet. He tucks his chin to his chest, reads the label. “Never had this brand before.” He puts the empty bottle on the patio railing.
Using a lighter he unseals another and after another long pull is past the neck of that one. My hand gets wet from holding my drink for too long. I’m not really in the mood. I set it down.
“Who’s your favorite football player?” Ben asks. He’s looking out past the balcony.
I know he doesn’t care who I choose. He just wants to tell me his.
I don’t give it much thought. “Joe Montana.”
“Figured that.” He sizes me up. “Could have guessed that.” He tips the bottle almost vertical then cradles it in his lap. “For me, it’s Bill Romanowski. No doubt about it. Billy Romo.”
“Why’s that?” I try to seem interested.
“He’s a total savage. The man is the apitome of a warrior.”
“E. E-pitome,” I say.
Ben looks at me with intensity.
“It’s epitome. You said—”
“Yeah I know.”
I lift my eyebrows.
But he quickly forgets and is back at it. “For starters, he’s middle linebacker, the most demanding position in all of sports. I mean these guys blitz, tackle, sack the QB, drop back into coverage—you name it.” He’s swelling with exuberance. Ben pauses to swallow another half a beer. Then he says, “Romanowski won a Super Bowl with the ‘Niners. Raised a trophy with the Broncos,” his eyes are lit up, beer and saliva gather at the corner of his mouth but he doesn’t stop to wipe or swallow, “and you know he’s going to win this one with the Raiders.”
“Sounds like quite a player,” I say. I take a small sip and can’t find the motivation to drink much more.
“I wonder what he benches?” Ben asks, mostly to himself. He opens another beer and searches for the answer. ...
Brian W. Wood
