The Journey to Get Back

The day after the baseball game I woke up early (the breakfast room hours still ingrained in me) at Chase's apartment & walked a few blocks down to the beach.  I needed some fresh air & walked along the water for quite a while, thinking.

I need to stop putting off Mad Munch & start a savings account to get it going, I thought.  If I save all of my tips (like $20 per week) & like $50 from each paycheck every other week, I can make it happen: buy the tent, a grill, get the commissary kitchen, pay for all of the permits.  That's what I was dissecting in my mind when my phone rang.  It wasn't Chase, but another college friend who lived in southern California.

"Zach!  What are you doing, man?" Bennett yelled out.

"I'm taking a long walk on the beach.  In Long Beach," I said.

"Nice!  Hey when you heading back to SD?" he asked.

"Later today, actually.  Why?"

"Right on.  You should stop by my place on your way back.  I'm out in San Marcos now.  I got a badass pad, you gotta see this place."

"Alright, what the hell," I said.

I put the last $5 cash I had into my gas tank & took the PCH out of Long Beach.  Traffic was light & I made it out to Bennett's in less than two hours.  His condo shined bright on the hillside when I pulled up in my '92 GMC Sonoma.

He gave me the tour of the place & we spend some time catching up.  He was in the Marines & had just returned from deployment, so he was excited to be back in California.  

"You're still living with that dude?  Wow, man you gotta get outta there," Bennett said.  He had a fresh perspective about himself & I felt like I was still stuck in 2011.

"Yeah, but I don't really hang out there much anymore," I said.

"You should get your own place, man.  There's plenty of good rentals down there in OB," he said.  It was just me, him & his girlfriend's bulldog, Tucker.  We were sitting in lounge chairs out back on his veranda. 

"You should just crash here tonight, man.  Bree's in Hawaii for work & you can sleep in the spare room," he said & handed me another beer.  "I bet you could use a night away from there, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess I could just go straight from here to work," I said.

"Work?  Damn, you work on Sunday's now?" Bennett said.

I told him about quitting at the Inn to work at Best Western & how now I was running the breakfast room.  

"Whoa, so you're the breakfast room guy?  How's that going for ya?" he asked.

"It's alright.  It pays better than the Inn & I get tips," I said.  

I just left it at that & steered the subject back to his life & reminiscing about the good times in Carbondale.  We watched the sunset from his terrace, grilled out some burgers & had some laughs over the show Workaholics, before we called it a night.

Hours later, I woke up to my phone's alarm in the dark & fired up my truck for the 45 minute drive to Point Loma.  When I merged onto the 15 south, Sandy (my truck) started to sputter.  I thought I had enough gas to make it home, but as I coasted off the freeway at the next exit I knew better.  Luckily, I was able to coast my way to a stop next to a pump at an Arco station.  Only problem was I didn't have any money or credit cards to charge my way into work.        

I called Bennett.  He answered on the fourth or fifth ring & thank God he didn't tell me to piss off.  Instead he drove the ten or so miles to the gas station & gave me a $20 bill to get back.

"Thanks, buddy I owe you big time & I'll pay you back," I said & gave him a hug.

"Hey, no worries.  And don't worry about the twenty bucks,"  Bennett said.  "Just don't work Sundays anymore.  You're better than that, Zach."