A novel notion

I threw the ten of clubs onto the pile and held up my two remaining cards. "Trivia." I pointed my hand at Mewes, the guy who reminded me so much of Kevin Smith's Jay that I couldn't help but refer to him accordingly.

"Give me two names this guy called Michelle tonight."

"Jen and Sarah," K said, just as Mewes exclaimed, "Matilda and Mary!" Fair enough, one card each and I was VP again.

We moved to the back porch after Mewes accepted that he was once again the asshole. It was late, despite our attempts at ignoring clocks with beers, cocktails and cards. Everyone else in the neighborhood seemed to have given up for the night.

I liked being here, surrounded by trees and the thrill of being in an unfamiliar space. I hadn't been to Maine since I was too young to remember. K said it wasn't really the Maine of stereotypes, prompting me to jokingly refer to this part of the state as "New Hampshire Lite." But whatever it was, I was enjoying it.

Mewes made an offhand, drunken remark that sent me to the porch step in laughter. As our giggles tapered off, he looked at me. "Where did you come from?"

"Our girl's a writer," Michelle said as we went through the chain of events and friendships that had led me to this house. There were years of backstory, so we gave the synopsis. I mentioned that I was, among other things, a writer who wanted to pen a novel as soon as I figured out what the story should be.

"Write about this, man," Mewes said with a grandiose sweep of hands. He took in the sight of black branches on royal blue sky, rustling leaves and a multitude of cars parked in the driveway. "Up late, lots of beers and everyone's getting ready for the day ahead."

Profound moment aside, he headed back in for his beer.

The weekend would make for an amusing read - for me, at least. An expanding cast of characters made their mark, worthy of a paragraph or several pages. It would include music and dancing before blue-light-swathed band members in a brick and hardwood space. A caboose and the bagels that came from it. Cape Codders and catchup conversation until sunrise followed by missed exits and the return home in time for bagpipes at a holiday barbecue.

It would be a good story. Maybe Mewes had a point.