That night, at MacLaren's
The group was complete for the first time in weeks.
Marshall and Lily sat in their favorite spot—the middle one Marshall defended tooth and nail whenever anyone tried to sit there, arguing with scientific data about its ergonomic benefits. Alyx, beside them, with a beer in her hand and a calm smile that needed no justification. Robin, leaning against Ted, listening to his pontifications with that mix of boredom and adoration only true couples understand. And Barney, who entered triumphantly half an hour late, as was his custom, dragging an enormous package wrapped in brown paper that caught the attention of the entire bar.
"Ladies and gentlemen! People of dubious morals but excellent taste!" His voice boomed through the place, making several customers turn. "The moment has arrived, more anticipated than the invention of tequila! The revelation of a work of art that will change the history of humanity forever!"
He tore the paper with a theatrical flourish, revealing Alyx's drawing framed with a luxurious white mat and glass more suited to a Swiss bank than a neighborhood pub. The frame was walnut wood, with gold leaf inlays at the corners. A complete exaggeration.
Absolute silence fell over the booth. Then Lily let out a laugh so genuine it made several heads turn.
"Barney, it's... it's beautiful. Really, but... why is the glass bulletproof? And why is the frame so huge? The drawing is small!"
"Because this work is worth more than all my suits combined, and believe me, that's a lot of money. A lot. We're talking an amount with several zeros." He hung the painting on the booth wall, right next to the signed photo of Robin Sparkles, creating a contrast so absurd it could only make sense at MacLaren's. "From now on, this will preside over all our meetings. It will be a constant reminder."
Marshall and Lily looked at Alyx in unison. She was observing the painting with an expression neither could fully decipher, but when she felt their gaze, she turned to them and gave them a small, genuine smile. Without reservations.
Like the one in the drawing.
Carl, the bartender, approached with a rag in hand and his characteristic expression of perpetual weariness. "Hey, Barney, that new painting... it's nice. But if someday you get tired of having it in your booth and want to hang it behind the bar, let me know. It'd give the place an... interesting touch. People ask, you know. They want stories."
Barney looked at him horrified, as if he'd just proposed using his favorite suit to clean the floor. "Behind the bar? Next to the bottles of cheap whiskey and stained coasters? This is a masterpiece, not a lure for drunk tourists who confuse MoMA with a brothel!"
"Whatever you say." Carl walked away, shaking his head and smiling to himself with that bartender's wisdom of having seen too much to be surprised by anything.
Ted raised his glass, capturing the group's attention. "Well, since we're all here, and it's Friday, and I survived another week with Druthers without murdering him, I propose a toast. The question is: what do we toast to?"
Marshall looked at Lily.
Lily looked at Alyx.
Alyx looked at the three of them, at the four, at the five, at the newly hung painting, at the bar full of life and noise and possibilities.
"To second chances," said Marshall, squeezing Lily's hand.
"To third chances," Lily corrected, smiling.
"To the ones that don't have numbers," concluded Alyx, her voice so low that only they, in the bubble of their booth, could hear.
Barney, never missing an opportunity to seize attention, raised his glass higher than anyone. "To the calculation error! Because sometimes being wrong is the only way to be right! And because, let's be honest, I remain the master of this group and any other group that dares to challenge me!"
They clinked glasses.
The tinkle of glass mixed with Robin's laugh, which always sounded like a waterfall, and with the background murmur of MacLaren's, and with the music playing on the old jukebox.
Ted's hand found Robin's under the table.
Lily's intertwined with Marshall's and Alyx's.
Free for a moment, Alyx's hand rested on her lap, feeling the warmth of the bodies around her.
In the MacLaren's booth, illuminated by the soft light of the lamps and Carl's complicit smile from the bar, the six toasted to a future that, for the first time, they didn't need to predict. They didn't need to control. They didn't need to analyze.
Just live it.
One page at a time.
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