I knew I fucked up as soon as I said it. That kind of shit was always hard for me. Whenever a buddy of mine was having a hard time, or going through a breakup, I wasn’t the one to sit and listen to him for hours. I took him out, got him shitfaced, and tried to get his dick wet.
“Sorry,” I sat back from him. “Not the time. That wasn’t cool.”
He softened. “No. I get it. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
His sad smile broke me. I couldn’t fathom what it was like to go through a divorce. Or how it feels to love someone enough to marry them in the first place. I didn’t understand it, but I needed to try my best to bear it.
“Can I hug you?”
“Of course.”
I wrapped him in a tight embrace. He rested his head on my shoulder when I let him go. We sat in silence for a while. He laced his fingers in mine. We’d taken to holding hands as a silent form of support. A small physical gesture when words fail. For two loudmouthed salespeople like us, it was rare and meaningful.
“What’s going on up there?” I said, tapping his head.
His voice was soft, and sadder than I thought possible. “Just… a lot.”
“Like what?”
“No, just that… it’s a lot. There’s a lot going onup here,” he tapped his head, “that I’m sure you don’t need to hear.”
It was the lowest I had ever seen him. How could I be left with the task of bringing him up? It made me sick to my stomach.
“I don’t know if Ineedto, but I want to.”
He looked up at me with red, dry eyes. “Thanks, Mason,” he said, before putting his head back on my shoulder. “It’s just… so fucked up. Looking at that stack of papers just shows me how badly I fucked up my life. And it makes me feel…” He sighed. “I don’t know how I feel. Sad, maybe? Stupid? Yeah, stupid. A real fucking idiot.”
“You’re not stupid. People get divorced. It’s just a fact of life. Some things don’t work out, and that’s okay.”
“Yeah, but I knew it was wrong from the start. I had a panic attack on our wedding day. I should’ve known then. Stupid fucking piece of shit.”
“You loved her, Alec.”
“Not really, no. Viv was a good friend, and we had sex, but that’s not love.”
We were friends and had great sex. What was so wrong with that?
“Yes, it is. Maybe not as much as a husband should love his wife, but you still loved her. You’ve said so.”
“Like a friend, maybe. Like my dad loved my mom. Notin love. Not dizzy, weak in knees, can’t stop thinking about them, love.”
Dizzy, weak in the knees, can’t stop thinking about them. Love.
I’d never come close to that. I always thought it was bullshit, or something most of the population wasn’t capable of. Happy I understood. Being content? Sure. But not that. No way.
“Is that real, or just Disney fantasy stuff?”
He looked up at me. “Yes.” He looked down.
“You sound so sure.”
“I am sure.”
“How?”
He looked up, then down, before speaking. “Because it’s gone, and it’s ripping me apart. If something that wasn’t even real can do that, what can the genuine article do?”
That wasn’t proof of existence, but I let it slide and squeezed his hand. “If you say so.”
