Alec was guilty of doing some of the best things a man can do behind another’s back. Many, many times in fantastic and inventive ways.
I laughed again. “Something like that, yeah.”
He chuckled. “You’re laughing. That’s good. Or terrible. Either you’re seeing the world for its deep absurdity, or your head’s broke like an omelet egg.”
“Both, I think.”
“Both is good. I can work with both.” He held his hand out. “I’m Charles, but you can call me Chucky.”
“Mason. Nice to meet you, man.”
What a strange, funny man. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but he seemed harmless. It might be good to let out some of the toxic shit brewing inside me.
The bartender returned with another bourbon for me and what looked like a sangria for him. Chucky raised his glass and said, “To being a little crazy on both accounts. And screw Alec. May his dingaling shrivel every time he goes to put it in what was once yours.”
I couldn’t keep my smile as we clinked glasses. I was once Alec’s, and as much as I wished he was there so I could screw him, I didn’t like his toast. Something about the way he said it felt like he wasn’t toasting to my future, but to the fact that I’d learned something he already knew.
Chucky slapped my back hard after taking his swig. His drink may have looked fruity, but he drank it like hard swill and slammed the delicate glass on the bar.
“I swear to all that’s holy,” he said, still making a puckered face from the alcohol. “For all the money this forsaken conglomerate charges its patrons, they could at least hire someone with a brain in their head. I swear they make it their mission to employ the world’s worst.”
“Your drink’s not good?”
“Not in the slightest. Never is.” He took another sip and made the same face. “That kid must be on the fantastical end of stupid.”
I wanted to ask him why he kept drinking it if it was terrible. Or why he came back so often he had a “usual” drink order, but I didn’t get the chance.
“Now that that’s out of the way, what do you think led to such a hideous and atrocious act? On both their parts?”
I didn’t know why I kept going with the lie. It was better than exposing the truth. And from the sound of it, he wouldn’t have been as forthcoming had he known. Even talking around it helped ease my mind somewhat.
“I don’t know about her, but he…” I stopped myself. “No, sorry, I don’t know what Alec was thinking, but we had an argument about taking the next step, and she didn’t appreciate it.”
“The next step? Aren’t y’all married as of yesterday?” Chucky scratched his beard and put it together in his head. “Oh! You mean… how old are you, boy? I thought kids your age were waiting to have babies for a while.”
“I’ll be twenty-seven next month.”
“Y’all get younger looking the older I get. I swore you were twenty-two at best. Okay, so popping out a few ankle-biters at your age isn’t the worst thing in the world. Y’all can afford a honeymoon here. You must not be struggling.”
“No, it’s not that—”
“Then what is it?”
What was it? Why was I sitting at this bar talking to this stranger? Why wasn’t I home getting dinner with, or fucked by, Alec?
“She made things complicated in a way I wasn’t comfortable with. I don’t know if I ever want to… have kids. But she was insistent. We fought, and I left.”
“That’s when you found out your no good, so-and-so of a boss was screwing your lady? What, did she say something like‘at least Alec isn’t afraid to put a baby in me’ or some other such nonsense?”
“Yeah, something like that,” I said and faced the bar.
Alec wasn’t a no good, so-and-so, whatever that meant. He was a good man who just wanted to move too fast after experiencing a devastating loss. But good man or not, that’s not a path I could follow. Not then, and maybe not ever.
Chucky took the hint I didn’t know I was giving and let it go. He said, “That’s why I couldn’t be bothered with a woman. Too much. Too complicated. Too many things to do and say and buy and ask forgiveness for. Just too much.”
“You never got married?” I asked, turning to him again.
“No, sir. Not for me. I’m the free kind. Always was and always will be. My mama, rest her soul, used to tell stories how she’d chase me around the churchyard ‘cause I’d strip and run around with my rear end hanging out.” He laughed, and so did I.
