The Memory Painter

Diana put her hand on her stomach. “Doc, you’re our hero.”

Doc was always trying to feed them on the house. His restaurant had been a second home since he had opened it. He and Michael had been roommates before Diana had come into the picture. The two men had known each other since childhood and had been friends growing up in a suburb outside of Chicago. When Michael moved to Boston to complete his graduate degree at Harvard, Doc had just finished culinary school and came out to visit. He had loved Boston so much that he had stayed and gotten a job at one of the city’s top restaurants, quickly rising in the ranks to executive chef. Later, with his family’s help, he had opened up his own restaurant: Doc’s Waterfront Bar & Grill.

Doc was still hovering at the table, which was unusual. He bent toward Michael. “Captain? Can I talk to you for a second?” He motioned toward his office.

“Sure.” Michael stood up, glad to have a break from the table. He followed Doc to the back, wondering what was up.

They went into his tiny hole of an office and Doc shut the door. “I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping you’d come up for air.”

“I’ve been busy with the project,” Michael said. Doc had a point, though—it had been a while.

“Well, it’s good to see you.”

Michael raised his eyebrows at Doc’s formal air. “You too, buddy. What’s on your mind?”

“Well…” Doc sat, looking a little lost.

Michael waited for Doc to gather his thoughts, but he couldn’t. “Doc, please just spit it out. I’ve had a rough couple of days.”

“It’s about Barbara…” Doc finally blurted. “Barbara and me.”

“You don’t need to tell me—”

“—No, I want to tell you. I want to be the one to tell you.”

Michael forced himself to remain quiet. He loved Doc like a brother but Doc had fallen for the girl Michael had dated before Diana and was convinced this would ruin their friendship. Michael had tried to assure him that it had been casual—over before it even began. His relationship with Barbara had barely amounted to a month of dinners and movies, and a few kisses outside her dorm. She was a psych major, the kind who wanted to analyze every thought and feeling anyone had ever had in order to earn her PhD. Michael had no idea why he had dated her in the first place and had all but wiped their short-lived relationship from his mind, but Doc still felt like he had to treat the whole situation with kid gloves.

“Things are getting serious. I think I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Doc waited for a reaction. Michael was tempted to tell his buddy he needed a sanity check. Instead he did his best to feign excitement. “Great. Congratulations.”

“Mikey.”

Michael laughed and said, “No, I’m serious. I’m happy for you two. You didn’t have to tell me like this.”

Doc fiddled with a pen. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

“Listen, my feelings about you and Barbara getting together haven’t changed. I don’t mind! Got it, knucklehead?”

“There’s one more thing. About the wedding…”