The Second Bill

Eddie paid the bar bill with the calm, generous gesture of a man who wanted everyone at the table to notice how little the amount concerned him. The receipt went straight into his wallet. On the walk out, he told the group not to worry about it.

By breakfast, he had photographed it.

There were four of them staying in Rawai, all men Eddie had met in the previous month. They trained together sometimes, ate together often and went to Patong when somebody said they needed a change of scenery. Eddie had become the organiser because he always had a plan and never seemed to wait for an answer.

He chose the car. He chose the first bar. He knew a second place that was “better,” although getting there required everyone to abandon a table they had just sat down at.

Paying helped the evening move at his speed.

His message the next morning was friendly. Just keeping track, lads. Nobody owed him anything. He had attached the receipt to demonstrate this.

The others thanked him again.

On Tuesday, Eddie wanted company at a restaurant. One man had a date. Another was tired. The third had already eaten.

“After Saturday?” Eddie wrote.

He deleted it, then sent, “Fair enough.”

On Wednesday, he asked whether someone could drive him to collect a parcel. When the answer was no, he mentioned that he had sorted the transport for the whole group at the weekend. The parcel was on the other side of town. The transport had been a car he had already wanted to take.

By Thursday, Saturday had become a surprisingly active subject for an evening everybody had been told to forget.

Dan finally offered to transfer his share.

Eddie was offended.

“It’s not about money.”

Dan believed him. Money would have been simpler. There was an amount on the receipt, a way to divide it and a point at which everybody could stop discussing it.

What Eddie wanted remained unsettled. A place in every plan. Agreement when he suggested somewhere. A little enthusiasm when he arrived. Nobody had seen those items before ordering the drinks.

On Friday, he invited them out again and made a joke about being abandoned by his ungrateful children. Only Dan came.

They sat outside a small bar near their rooms. Eddie started telling the waitress they would pay together. Dan interrupted gently and asked for separate bills.

For a while, the conversation felt stiff. Then they talked about training, a broken shower and the man at their gym who taped his hands before deciding whether to do the class. Eddie laughed properly. He did not check whether anyone had noticed.

When the bills arrived, Dan paid his. Eddie paid his.

They stood up to leave, and Dan asked whether he wanted breakfast the next morning.

Eddie almost made the obvious joke about who was paying. Instead, he said yes.

Outside, he dropped his receipt into the bin.

The one from Saturday was still in his wallet.