Page 11 of Scoring Chance

"Some things haven’t changed," I laugh. "You were a ladies' man in high school. I remember you were dating these two girls at once, and you sent me to break up with one of them."

"Oh God, that was rough. I can't believe you said yes. Didn’t one of them slap you?"

"It’s what we do for our friends," I say.

He just looks out, sips his beer. "And you had one girlfriend all through high school. You love your monogamy. We were on top of the social food chain back then. You could’ve been with anyone. You could’ve played the field, Tan."

"I save my playing for the ice.” My high school girlfriend and I broke up after graduation. She was going to college very far away, so we both knew it wouldn’t last. It was amicable. Unlike Des, I’ve never gotten slapped over a breakup.

At a post-graduation party, she tried flirting with Des, but he firmly said no, even though I said it was fine. I always appreciated that about him.

“You’re still on top of the social food chain.” I sip my beer. “You managed to peak in high school and as an adult. I mean, you’re super successful, with an awesome bachelor pad, and a very active social life.” There’s a part of me that would like to have that life for a day, to see what I’d be missing.

“It’s pretty sweet,” he says.

While it does seem pretty sweet, I don’t know…I feel like it would get boring after a while. Different strokes, I guess.

“It’s kind of a miracle that we became friends.” I was the good, dutiful kid. Des was the bad boy—hooking up with everyone. People couldn’t believe that we were friends. We seemed so different. Des is loud and boastful and extroverted as heck. And I’ve always been more thoughtful, more cautious. But I don’t know—it worked. Maybe we both see something in each other.

"I think we balance each other out," Des says. "No matter all the parties I went to, all the people I hooked up with. They couldn't come close to just hanging out with you, chatting about life and shit. And plus, you were there for me when I needed it most—my shitty parents and then shitty cancer.”

Luckily, it was caught early and they were able to remove the testicle that was impacted. I can’t believe it’s been four years already. There’s been no recurrence, and for all intents and purposes, he’s in the clear. But I still get nervous when he goes in for his annual cancer screen. I’ve seen firsthand how quickly things can change. One fall, one nap, one doctor’s appointment…your whole life can get turned on its head.

"We've gotten through a lot together," I say. I clink my beer can against his.

"We have.” His lips pout. Des is a very attractive man. I’ve always thought so. People love his dark eyes, his cut jaw. But for me, his lips are his best feature. They’re full and pouty. Welcoming. Anyone who gets to kiss them is very lucky. They amplify any expression he has. A smile with those lips is a beam of sunshine. A frown is a dark cloud.

Right now, they are adding to the mysterious, pensive look on his face.

"I have a crazy idea," he says.

"What?"

"What if we got married?"

I burst out with a laugh. It's the best laugh I’ve had all day. I knew my friend would always be there to cheer me up.

"Des, this is why you should not be drinking beer. It's doing stuff to your head. But that was a good one."

"I’m serious. I think I’m serious.”

He arches his eyebrows. The wheels turn in his head. I can tell when Des is really thinking about something—and this is one of those moments. The lips are in full pout.

I sit up. "Wait, you're actually thinking about this?"

"Well, if we were to get married, you can go on my insurance plan. And then you and the kids would be covered. My company has great insurance. When I had cancer, I had very little medical bills. Most of it was covered. So that would extend to you, right? I mean, if we were married. And really, marriage is one of those events where you can have someone join your plan right away. You don’t have to wait till the end of the year."

"That’s true," I tell him. Being in human resources, I know this like the back of my hand. "It’s a qualifying event."

"So we can get married, you and your kids can immediately get insurance, and then once you find a new job, you can get off and go onto that, and everything will be fine."

In theory, this sounds very logical and very helpful. But still—it would mean that we would get married.

"You’re asking me to marry you? For insurance?" Des would be my husband. “Is this fraud?"

"I don’t know. Let me check." He asks the question into his cellphone. Google pops up with a response.

"Nope. Not fraud. It’s not illegal. Frowned upon, but not illegal. If someone comes to us and asks if we’re married, we know each other so well, we could easily say that we are. We can easily pass that test. And most marriages are sexless, so we’re right on track with that.”