A fresh string of sleepless nights ends with a fast, desperate search for him on social media at 3am. He’s not hard to find once I bother to try. He looks well. Even better, he looks healthy. The photos are few, but they show him in the arms of a man who looks at him the way I should have—with genuine care and concern. The relief of knowing he’s okay does nothing to ease my conscience. I wish I could apologise, explain my leaving wasn’t his fault, but I would never risk upsetting his happiness for the sake of making myself feel better. The best I can do for Walter now is leave him alone. That’s what he deserves from me.
It’s probably the first time in years I’ve made a decision based on what’s best for someone else, rather than what’s acceptable for me. All I ever wanted was to pay my penance. Never once did it occur to me, in doing so, I had allowed myself to become selfish, at times even cruel.
Then Sam came along and ripped the blinders from my eyes, forcing me to acknowledge the world around me for what feels like the first time. Turns out, I’m not anywhere near as isolated as I imagined. The actions I take still have consequences. My behaviour still matters to the people around me. I want to do better for them. I want tobebetter.
I know exactly where to start.
After lunch on Friday afternoon, I knock on the open door of the office George shares with two other people from his department. I greet them both as I pass by, but only recognise one of them. The other is a stranger to me, though the state of her desk would suggest she’s been around for a while. How long has it been since I sought George out instead of the other way around?
“Is there a problem?” George asks, already half out of his chair.
“No, no problem.” I slide my hands into my pockets to stop them fidgeting. “I was wondering if you want to grab a drink after work tonight, while Alice is at Sam’s class.”
George’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the class as well?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I give him a mischievous grin. “Thought I’d play hooky.”
A flicker of surprise passes over his face. “Sounds great. I’m in.”
“Great.” I stand there, not sure what to do next.
“All right, then,” George drawls with a quizzical smirk. “I’ll see you at five.”
With a short laugh, I back up towards the door. “See you then.” He’s shaking his head at me when I turn and escape back to my office.
Dropping into my chair, I grab my phone and text Sam to let him know my plans. A few minutes later he responds with a thumbs-up emoji.
I’m smiling as I return to my work. My pulse beats wildly in my veins. It’s weird, but I think I might actually be looking forward to going out for drinks with a friend.
* * *
“All right, mate,” George says as soon as we’re settled at a table with pints and a bowl of wedges. “What did you do to fuck things up with Sam and how do we fix it?”
I splutter around a mouthful of beer. “What? I didn’t do anything.” Even as I speak, I check my phone for any messages alerting me to some Sam-centric emergency I don’t know about, but there’s been nothing since the thumbs-up. “Why do you think something is wrong?”
“Because ofyou,” he makes an obvious and emphatic gesture in my direction, “showing up at my office door with random drinking invitations. You’ve never done that before. Something is definitely wrong.”
My hands lift, palms out. “I swear, nothing is wrong. Sam and I are… pretty fucking amazing, actually.”
“Oh.” George relaxes back into his chair, the fight going out of him. “That’s good, then.”
We fall silent. I glance around the rapidly filling bar. People are talking and laughing, eager to celebrate the end of the work week with their colleagues. I’ve always thought of George as a friend, but I’m realising we don’t spend that much time together outside of work. Does that even count as friendship?
Stuffing a wedge into my mouth, I consider topics of conversation I can use to stop this whole thing from turning to shit. I don’t even remember the last time I came to a bar for anything other than a hook-up. There isn’t much talking involved in that. “How is Alice?” I blurt out.
“She’s good.” George nods, resting his elbows on the table. “She was looking forward to Sam’s class tonight. She’s pretty dedicated.”
“I’ve noticed.” Now he’s mentioned it, my curiosity gets the better of me. “What’s going on there?”
He shrugs the comment away. “It’s nothing.” Then he takes a long sip of his beer and clears his throat. I stay silent this time, waiting to see if he’ll continue. It’s a trick I’ve learned from Sam. “The doctor said she needs to reduce her stress levels and the meditation classes are the one thing she’s found that works.”
“I can relate,” I say with a wry smile. Without Sam, I’d probably still be taking the bus to work every day.
“She’s tried other teachers, but they all got on her nerves.” He picks up a wedge and dips it furiously in the small bowl of sour cream. “My wife doesn’t have that many nerves to start with. Each one needs to be handled with care.” More wedges quickly follow and my gut clenches.
“Alice is okay, isn’t she?” I ask. “She’s not sick or anything.”
“She wishes,” he replies, with a glum snort. “My wife would like nothing better than to start throwing up on a regular basis.” At my obvious and profound confusion, George rolls his eyes. “Morning sickness, it’s one of the first signs of pregnancy.”
