Gio sighs and closes his eyes. “I don’t know, man. Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I love her, but she has a hard time handling this life I lead.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. Gio and I are full-time firefighters, and our job, while incredibly important, comes with a lot of risks. It’s similar to that of a military individual or police officer. It’s dangerous and, sometimes, that’s hard for some people to accept. Clara is one of those people. Every time she hears of a situation involving a firefighter on the news, she freaks out and says she can’t handle his job. It weighs on him, heavily.
“I can’t really tell you what to do, my friend, but you can’t keep riding this seesaw all the damn time. The constant up and down, on and off, is hard on you.” Every time they break up, he’s a mess for about a week afterward. Then, they’ll start talking, and she’ll start coming around again. I don’t judge, but as afriend looking in from the outside, their time together has run its course, and it isn’t healthy for either of them.
After a few seconds, he says, “I know.” Then, as if flipping a switch, he asks, “So, what’s going on with you and that bar you work at when you’re home? Today was the sale date, right?”
“Yep,” I mutter, wishing I hadn’t confessed my irritation with him back on Tuesday, because now he’ll keep needling me to talk about it. “I think I’m just gonna quit. It’s not like I need the money.”
“True,” he states, checking his watch. “Almost time to start chow.”
I nod but don’t get up.
“Why would you quit? Just because it’s a new owner?”
“It’s someone from out of town.”
“So?”
I exhale deeply, my brain instantly drawing her image when I close my eyes. “She won’t get the nostalgia and comradery that comes with the place. She’ll make changes.”
“Change isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Says the man who’s about to meet up with Clara to possibly reconcile for the hundredth time in the last three years.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back.
Gio makes a face, but states, “Don’t do that. Don’t pull punches, man. That’s why I come to you about this shit. You tell it like it is.”
“Yeah, but it’s not my life, it’s yours.”
“I know, but still. We’re friends, and I value your opinion. Like when you came to work on Tuesday like someone with a thorn in his paw and told me all about the hot chick buying the bar where you work part time.”
My eyes narrow as I level him with a look. “I didnottell you she was hot.”
He shrugs. “Well, she has to be to get you this worked up.”
“Maybe it’s the fact she’s going to wreck my favorite bar, huh? Maybe it’s because I hate change, and she’s about to change everything about one of my favorite places.”
“Ormaybeit’s because you think she’s hot and don’t know what to do about it.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, refusing to confirm or deny my attraction.
“You’re proving my point, friend.”
“How was that proving anything?” I ask, getting irritated with him all over again.
He snorts and smiles widely. “Because if you didn’t like her, you’d be aloof, not getting your panties in a twist every time the bar is mentioned.”
I just stare at him, wanting to call him on his bullshit, but unable to do so.
“Listen, if you really don’t want to work with her, then quit. Like you said, you don’t need the money. You just enjoy hanging out there with the old men so you’re not stuck at your house all the damn time because you have no life.”
“I do too have a life,” I argue.
He just laughs. “Sure you do. I’m not judging, my friend, really, but the only thing you do is work at that bar or hang out with your family. When was the last time you got laid?”
I refuse to answer that question, because the answer is too fucking embarrassing.
“Exactly,” he says, pointing a meaty finger my way. “You’re sexually frustrated.”
