A nice guy all out of nice right now.
“What I feel like right now is gettingniceand drunk in a place where the windows are dirty, the floors are scuffed, and there are pretzels on the bar that you wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot barge pole.”
“You do you, booboo. But it’s more fun when you do someone else.”
“Where the beer is cold,” I say, talking over him, “and the people mind their own feckin’ business.”
“Oh, subtle, Matías.”
“Subtle doesn’t work on you.”
“As the only married man between us, I really think you ought to pay more attention to the things I say. Maybe we should get you one of those cute bracelets with the beads and ‘WWFD.’”
What Would Fin Do.
“So I can do the opposite?”
“Listen, if you want to settle down, you’ve gotta put yourself out there!”
Right now, I feel more like putting my fist in his face. It’s just as well he’s a couple of continents away.
“Besides, hotel bar, dive bar. Doesn’t matter. You’ll have to feign laryngitis because you know what that accent does to women, especially over there. Panties dropping left and right! Add in the James Bond getup, and they’ll be like bees to a honey pot.”
“There won’t be a woman under sixty where I’m heading.”
“Big panties, then.” The bastard laughs. “Except it’s Saturday night,” he adds in an all-knowing and very fucking annoying tone. “Which means the ladies will come tottering out on their spiky heels in short, short dresses, looking for cheap pre-drinks before they hit the cocktail bars.”
God give me strength . . .
“And who knows, maybe among that crowd is the girl for you, dreaming of a house in the burbs and a half dozen snot-nosed kids. It could all start tonight.”
Reaching my destination, I put my hand to the door handle and pause as an image of just that flashes in my head. Love and family. It’s what we were put on the earth for, surely. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I yank on the door handle, my mood not improved.
The interior is dark and the place pretty quiet, just a few old fellas hunched over glasses at the bar or staring up at TVs playing a game I’ve no interest in. The bartender turns, acknowledging me with a nod. I was here yesterday. He knows what I’m drinking.
“Come on, Matías. There’s beauty in the spontaneous. Even magic sometimes.”
“How’s this for magic,” I say, already pulling the phone from my ear. “Watch as I make you disappear.” And I do just that as I end the call.
I don’t need this from him. I already have a sister and a mother hounding me about my love life.
Ma:Why can’t you find yourself a nice girl, Matías?
Leticia:How come you’re the only one of your friends not married?
Ma:Such a handsome face(while she squeezes the cheeks from my skull). Why does no one else love it?
“Jaysus,” I mutter. Slotting away my phone, I rub my hand over my taut jaw. I think I must be really feckin’ nice to put up with Fin’s bullshit.
I wasn’t lying. I am over casual relationships, one-night stands, and booty calls. I don’t want to wake up next to some woman whose name I can’t remember and hustle her out the door before she realizes, making us both feel like shit. And I can’t admit to Fin that I’m envious of him. I mean, I’m happy for him, but I reckon I’m also allowed to feel a bit sorry for myself.
What I want is forever.The fairy tale,I think with a derisive snort.
I’m so lost in the bog of my thoughts that I don’t immediately realize someone has stepped between me and the bar. At least, not until something hits me in the center of my chest.
“What the . . .”
My first thought is to offer an apology—Sorry, I didn’t see you there on account of you being the size of a flea.But I don’t get to do that, as she opens her mouth and declares loudly and very pointedly:
