Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
My buddy Chris answers on the first ring. “You okay, man?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair, and sit back down at the kitchen table. “Yeah. Well, no. Sorry to call so late at night. I’m physically fine but there’s a lot on my mind.”
There’s a pause, and I imagine Christopher is getting out of bed, careful not to disturb Bailey sleeping beside him. For the first time, I feel a pang. That’s my daughter, and she’s pregnant, and yet I’m jealous in a way. I’d love to have a girlfriend sleeping next to me, her curvy form lush and heavily pregnant as I slip out of bed. But it’s too late now.
I hear a door close, and a light switch flicks on. He probably went into the living room. “Okay, I’m ready for it,” he says. “Lay it on me.”
I lean forward, my elbows on the table as I hold the cell phone to my ear. “So I’ve been seeing someone,” I sigh.
“Fuck yeah, man! Took you long enough,” Christopher teases, and I can’t help but laugh. Christopher and I have ribbed each other about our respective love lives through the decades I’ve known him.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “She’s amazing. Incredible. Smart, sexy, cute as hell, kind, funny, and really, the whole package.”
“Where did you find her?”
“At the hospital,” I lie, smoothly. I’ve been prepared with that answer in case anyone asks. I feel bad fibbing to my best friend, and planned to tell him the truth eventually, but now I’m grateful to have the lie in my back pocket. Since that the relationship is apparently over, I don’t see the point in revealing the truth.
“Congrats! I am happy for you. But you don’t sound too thrilled, buddy. What happened?”
I heave a sigh and relay to him the painful, mysterious phone conversation that Kara and I had two weeks ago. Christopher’s a good listener, and only occasionally interrupts to ask for clarification. By the end of my explanation, I’ve retrieved another beer from the fridge. I can already tell it’s going to be a long night.
“Damn,” Christopher muses when I’ve concluded my story. “That’s rough. I am so sorry that happened.”
“Me too,” I sigh into my bottle of beer. “Of course I’m sad, and disappointed, but I’m fucking angry, too. Things were going so well! I have no idea what happened, or what I did wrong, or what I was supposed to do to fix anything. I don’t usually believe in ‘closure’ or whatever the fuck they call it, but I really do feel like I’m going to go insane without any answers.”
“You might have to accept that you just won’t get any, as much as that sucks,” Christopher says, and I grumble my assent.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“You don’t have to. You just have to start to move on. Sometimes, there are no easy answers. Getting back in the saddle is sometimes the best medicine.”
I chug the rest of my beer and push the bottle away, rubbing at a knot of tension at my temple. Moving on sounds almost impossible at this point. Dating someone else? Hell, no. I still see Kara everywhere I look. The scent of her perfume lingers cruelly on my sheets and my shirts, no matter how many times I wash them. I hear her laugh when I say something funny, or stupid, and still routinely glance at my phone, expecting to see a cute text from her. To me, she is everywhere. How am I supposed to move on under these circumstances? Even the thought of dating another woman sounds like a ridiculous farce.
“Then again, it does sound like there might be something else,” Christopher says after a pause.
“Something else?” I question. Pathetically, my heart begins to race.
“I don’t know,” Christopher says. “I just agree that it’s odd that things were going so well, and she so suddenly cut things off. I mean, everyone reads situations wrong sometimes. But I’ve known you a long time, and I know that’s not you. Maybe something else happened that she’s not telling you.”
“You mean someone else,” I sigh. “Like some frat boy who’s the right age for her.”
Chris chuckles.
“Not necessarily. Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know, Rick. I wish I could be more helpful.”
“You have been,” I tell him, and mean it. Sometimes, it is useful just to rant to someone who cares, and Christopher cares about me as much as a brother would. “Thanks for listening. Go back to sleep. Keep my daughter company.”
“I will,” he yawns. “Good luck. Talk to you later, bro.”
I end the call, slowly walking into my bedroom to prepare for another sleepless night. As I splash water on my face, I wrack my brain for what else could have possibly happened to make Kara end our relationship. Could she have met someone? Honestly, it’s unlikely because she’s told me on numerous occasions that she was never attracted to the dumb boys her age at school. What about a professor? Also implausible, seeing that most of her instructors are in their 60’s and 70’s. A teaching assistant? A barista? A librarian?