Zac
I sat in Taylor’s driveway behind the wheel of my truck for longer than I really want to admit. Carrick had long since disappeared into the house, the door slamming shut behind him. I didn’t start my truck. I just stared into the distance, hoping that the silence would help me to figure out what to do.
It didn’t.
When I realized Natalie was standing in the window, staring out at me, I decided it was time to leave. I could only imagine what she must be thinking, although she probably didn’t know the truth of my fucked up situation. Then again, I didn’t trust Taylor not to blab everything to her the second he had a chance.
I couldn’t sit there any longer. I started the truck and peeled out of the driveway with no clue where I was going. I ended up taking a circuitous, longer than necessary route to our old apartment. I had kept it as a place to crash when sleeping in the studio got old, but I supposed it served just as well as a place to stay when I was in the doghouse.
Was I really, though? Not with my wife; she was the one who had blatantly broken our vows, and didn’t even care that she had. Sure, I had done the same thing. But it was Carrick’s reaction to my lies that mattered. It was the possibility that he might not forgive me and take me back that made an awful pit form deep in my stomach. My marriage could end. It needed to, in fact. I would survive that. What I wasn’t so sure I would survive was losing Carrick and knowing it was all my fault.
The apartment didn’t smell musty, like I expected it to. I wracked my brain to remember if Kate had a key, a perverse part of me wondering if she would have used it as a place to meet her little boyfriend. I decided it didn’t matter either way, and considering what a worthless asshole I was, I deserved to have to sleep in a bed my wife had used to cheat on me.
Instead, I collapsed onto the couch, not caring what time it was, and promptly fell asleep. I slept surprisingly soundly, and when I woke up, I didn’t even know what day it was. I was a little disappointed to find that I had only managed to sleep through dinner time and woken up so hungry that it nearly overpowered the sense of dread I felt.
There was a decent bar two blocks away that also served edible enough food. The drinks were strong, too, and that was what I really cared about right then, no matter how hungry I was. Right then, the need to eat and the need to dull my brain so that I could forget everything that had happened that day were more or less equal.
By the time I made it to the bar, it was even later, but there wasn’t much of a crowd, probably because it was a weeknight. You had to be really pathetic to go out with the intent of getting trashed on a weeknight. And I was nothing if not pathetic, so there I was, sitting alone at the bar, eating a burger that wasn’t remotely worth what I had paid for it and washing it down with a drink that was at least strong enough to be worth its price.
I didn’t pause to look around at my surroundings until I had cleaned my plate and emptied my first drink. When I lifted the glass to motion to the bartender, I realized I hadn’t even noticed him until that moment. He was tall and thin, with dark hair and an easy smile that made something stupid flutter up in my chest. I wasn’t sure how I could have missed him at first; the resemblance wasn’t uncanny but it was just enough to make me stare a little longer than was probably necessary.
“Why don’t I make this one a double?” He asked, his tone deliberately measured and free of judgment, his smile never wavering. “You look like you’re drinking your way through something.”
“You could say that,” I replied, not missing the way our fingers brushed when he took the glass from me. Seconds later, he was pressing another into my hand in its place, and I returned his smile. “Thanks.”
I watched him discreetly as he served the few others congregating around the bar. As the crowd cleared out, it became harder to hide the fact that I was watching, and I caught his eye on me a few times as well. Finally, the crowd was gone, just a few couples left talking in corner booths. The two of us were alone at the bar, and I knew I should say something, but the ability to make small talk and relate to other human beings had deserted me entirely.
“Lose your job or your wife?” His eyebrow was raised, and it took me a moment to process the words he had said.
“Huh?” I responded, wondering just how long I had been staring at him in a daze.
“I just figure there’s only a few reasons why a guy like you would be out drinking on his own in the middle of the week.” He shrugged. “I mean, everyone else here is looking for something… someone. But not you. Just makes a guy wonder, that’s all. I promise you I’ve seen and heard it all here.”
I managed a small laugh. “I guess you probably have.”
“I’m here to listen, if you need me to,” he said, turning away to clean a glass, but shooting me a look over his shoulder. “I didn’t really plan on being a bartender when I studied psychology in college, but the two things work surprisingly well together. So, you know, if you feel like talking. I’m here.”
He was rambling a little, but it was kind of endearing. I imagined a person probably got bored working in a bar, especially on a slow weeknight. It wasn’t like anyone was there to see you; they only remembered you existed when they needed a refill. I couldn’t fault the guy for being a little desperate for company.
“I’m leaving her, actually,” I finally replied. “My wife, I mean. And it’s obviously what we both want, but somehow it’s just creating more problems than it’s solving. I mean, of course it is. Because it can’t be as simple as, ‘hey, I think we should get divorced.’”
“Things rarely are that simple,” he remarked, one eyebrow slightly raised.
“Well, sure, I just wish–I mean, it doesn’t just affect us, you know?” I was dangerously close to sticking my foot in my mouth. This guy didn’t need to know what I had done, that I was truly more upset to lose Carrick than I was to lose my wife of seven years. He didn’t show any signs of recognizing who I was, but you never knew. Talking too much was risky.
“You guys have kids?” He asked.
“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid for thinking he would interpret what I said any other way. “Yeah, we do. One of each. Thank god they’re so young… I mean, I think the oldest one will probably figure out that something is wrong; he’s too smart for his own good sometimes. No clue where he gets that from. Not from me, that’s for sure.”
The guy stopped cleaning and walked over to stand in front me, leaning over the bar a bit. “It sounds like you’re being really hard on yourself, which is understandable at this point. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know your wife and I just met you. Whatever happened, just take responsibility for your part in it, and figure out how to move forward. That’s all you can do. Feeling sorry for yourself… it doesn’t help. Not that I mind seeing you in my bar, but you don’t wanna make a habit of the pity party thing.”
There was something in his tone that I couldn’t quite place. Something… almost flirtatious? That couldn’t be right, though; he knew I had been married to a woman. That didn’t mean I wasn’t also interested in men–I obviously was–but I hadn’t given him any indication of that fact. Maybe it was just a bartender thing. Of course he would want me to enjoy his company, stick around, order more drinks…
“Can I get another?” I asked dumbly, lifting my glass and giving him a weak smile.
“Coming right up,” he replied, and I could have sworn he gave me the tiniest of winks as he took the glass and began to pour another.
“Thanks for listening to me,” I said, enjoying the way our fingers brushed as he handed me the new drink. “I really appreciate it–umm, sorry, what did you say your name was?”
He chuckled softly. “I didn’t. But it’s Rainer.”
“Rainer,” I repeated, liking the way it sounded. I didn’t think I had met anyone named Rainer before. Without thinking that it might be telling him too much, I added, “My name is Zac.”
“Nice to meet you, Zac. Although I suppose the circumstances could be better for you.”
I shrugged. “Could be worse, probably. Somehow. Not to keep, like you said, throwing myself a pity party. I’m glad I came here tonight, actually. It’s nice to talk to somebody who isn’t judging me.”
“You haven’t really given me a reason to,” he replied. “Most of the time, when people break up, they’re both to blame for one reason or another. I mean, there are some just really awful people than ruin a relationship all on their own, but I don’t think you’re one of those.”
“Yeah, well, you should ask my–” I stopped myself, and shook my head. “I think some people would disagree with you there. But really, we both made the same mistakes. And I can say all I want about how she had no remorse when she admitted it, but obviously I didn’t have much either. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and it didn’t stop me.”
Rainer nodded slowly. “Well, whatever it was, it sounds like you regret it now, even if you didn’t when you were doing it.”
“You’d think that, but honestly I wouldn’t go back and undo it. That’s probably the worst part. I mean, I would be honest with–well, I could have come clean sooner. I got in over my head, lying to everyone, and that’s what fucked it all up. But that’s all I would change.”
“And that would fix things?” Rainer asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not. The truth wasn’t very… it was just bad. That’s why I didn’t want to admit it. I thought if I was honest, I wouldn’t get what I wanted, but maybe if I had been honest sooner. I should have known that lying for so long would just blow up in my face.”
“Well, not to be selfish or anything, but I’m glad it all led to you being here tonight.”
“Yeah?” I asked, raising my head slowly to look at him. I was sure, then, that he was flirting with me, and although I couldn’t really understand why, I didn’t want him to stop.
“Yeah,” Rainer replied. “And you know what? I’m off work in about fifteen minutes, or whenever Jamie gets here to start his shift. If you want, I think I’ve got something that’ll take your mind off everything even better than the rest of that drink will.”
I raised an eyebrow, and Rainer put two fingers to his mouth in a gesture that I recognized easily. Maybe he wasn’t flirting after all. Most stoners were pretty adept at recognizing another one of their kind; maybe that was all he saw in me and nothing more.
The other bartender showed up just a few minutes later, and Rainer covertly explained to me the easiest way to get to the alley behind the bar without cutting through the back. I noticed the other guy–I thought Rainer said his name was Jamie–eying us, and tried not to stare back. He probably knew what we were doing, and I really didn’t care, but I also didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to it.
I lingered over my last drink for a moment, hoping not to look too eager to follow after Rainer. Jamie continued to watch me, but didn’t speak more than necessary as he closed out my tab.
The alley was every bit as private as Rainer had told me, and by the time I made it back there, he was already leaning up against the brick wall with a joint tucked behind his ear. His long, lean body once again reminded me of a certain someone, and I had to blink a few times to make the unwanted image go away.
He gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret as he put the joint to his lips and lit it with the Bic he’d been twirling around between his fingers. The way his cheeks hollowed as he took a drag, making the joint pop and hiss, only served to increase the resemblance I was trying to ignore. A small voice at the back of my head told me I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing any of this, but another voice told me that I really didn’t have anything left to lose.
Rainer passed the joint to me, and I tried not to meet his eyes as I took a hit of my own. I didn’t know what I would see there if I did.
We passed it back and forth in silence, but somehow it wasn’t an awkward silence. I leaned against the brick wall, not caring that it wasn’t the most comfortable surface in the world. The more we smoked, the more it seemed I could feel each rough patch of brick digging into my skin, and the less I cared.
“What am I doing?” I mumbled, hardly even realizing I had spoken out loud until I felt Rainer’s hand on my arm.
“Look, I don’t know what all you’re going through here. I’m sure there’s more that you don’t want to talk about with some guy you just met. And that’s fine. I’m just offering something I thought might take your mind off some of it.”
“I do appreciate that,” I replied, glancing down at his hand, which had come to rest around my wrist, his long fingers wrapping nearly all the way around it. “But if you knew even the half of it, I doubt you’d think I deserved any of your sympathy.”
In one quick, shuffling move, Rainer was in front of me, both of my wrists now securely within his grasp. It gave me no choice but to look up and meet his eyes.
“Zac,” he said softly, and I braced myself for whatever advice or platitudes he planned to give me. His lips twitched, almost smirking. “You’re letting that joint go to waste.”
As if to illustrate his point, he raised my left hand to my mouth, the now barely smoldering joint almost too short for me to even take a hit. I gave it my best effort anyway, my eyes locked on his as I did. I still couldn’t quite place what I saw there.
They fluttered shut, and I knew. I saw it coming, like I was standing in a tunnel, watching the headlights get closer and closer but powerless to move. He pulled the joint from my lips, and I didn’t have time to think about what he had done with it before he had replaced it with his own lips.
I froze. He was gorgeous and obviously interested in me–I had been ignoring the signs all night–but kissing him made my stomach turn. With Kate, it had been years since I had felt anything, and with Carrick I felt more than I could describe. With this complete stranger, though, all I felt was disgust with myself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, putting a hand on Rainer’s chest and gently nudging him away. “I can’t–I really can’t do this.”
“If I misread something, I’m really sorry,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “I know you were talking about your wife, but I just thought… I’m sorry, man.”
“No, you–it’s not that. I told you the situation was more complicated than that.” I sighed, figuring I had nothing left to lose from telling him more. “The truth is, I fell in love with somebody else, and I lost him. And I probably can’t get him back now at all, but if I do this… it just proves why he was right to leave me. That I’m just an awful person who doesn’t deserve someone as fucking perfect as him.”
Rainer nodded. I was sure he didn’t fully understand, but he took a few steps back, and I was relieved that at least he wasn’t going to fight me on this.
I pried myself off the wall. “I’m sorry. If I made you think I… well, under any other circumstances I would be interested. But not now. Not when I need to try, for once in my life, to be a decent human being worthy of love.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, too.” He shook his head. “But for what it’s worth, I can’t imagine you’re anywhere even close to as awful as you seem to think you are. Either way, you know what you need to do to get him back, if he’s really that great. I hope it works out for you.”
“Me too,” I mumbled. I wanted to say or do something else, but there was nothing left. I turned and walked away without another word.
Had I given him the wrong impression? Had I led him on? Did I just seem that desperate? I didn’t know. It had been years–over a decade–since I had been alone, aside from that one brief month Kate and I had called it quits while she was in college. I didn’t know what it was like to be without someone’s affection, so I supposed it was only natural that I would go out, the very night Carrick ended things, and end up with someone else’s tongue in my mouth.
Rainer was wrong, of course. He didn’t know me at all. He had no clue how awful of a person I was, how much I needed to be needed but did nothing to be worthy of the people I wanted. I had never realized before just how manipulative I was. My relationship with Kate, I was realizing, had never been healthy, but it was all I had known. It was a pathetic excuse for how screwed up I was and how I had messed with Carrick’s head and heart, but it was all I had.
Maybe it didn’t even matter that I had stopped things with Rainer before we had gone any further. Maybe I had already lost Carrick for good. I wouldn’t blame him at all if I had. I could see clearly now how little I deserved him.