I had been to the hospital to see Greg. His dad kept pushing me to sit closer-- as if I had some powerful effect that could help his son. Ironic and really depressing. At one point his dad even said baitingly, "you know women just smell so much better then men. They're more...interesting, don't you think son?"
Greg looked up at me and mumbled back, "Yeah, sure dad."
I had to go and could only hope Greg would come to his senses soon and get the hell away from his king of denial father.
I walked in, got my latte', and sat at my favorite table. To my surprise, I saw Eric across the room, sitting by himself, his shoulders hunched and his head down-- eyes unresponsive. It had to be difficult to be back at the scene of the crime, realizing what he had done and where he had done it, waiting to talk to Hugo. As bad as I felt for Drew, I knew Eric's pain. I knew the guilt and the shame associated with cheating. As I looked at the slumped over figure of Eric, I remembered...
Her name was Carla and she was as sweet as a lost puppy when I found her doing laps at the gym pool. She would alternate between dog paddles and the back stroke until she finally grew exhausted in the water.
Her porcelain face glowed when she jumped out of the pool and began to dry herself off. I nodded hello as I prepped to jump in the pool. Our eyes caught each other, we smiled and chatted. I had never been so aggressive and quickly invited her out for coffee. I knew she would not say no.
She only left my place to get some stuff from her house-- twice-- over eight weeks. We talked about love, we talked about each other, and we talked about the future together. There was no reason to look any further and I didn't-- until the night Carla insisted I go to a party alone.
I met "the other woman" that night. Her dark complexion, dark hair, dark eyes, and distant character insured a certain mystique. I drank more tequila than I should have, knowing it would lead to trouble. But after two months of marital bliss, I welcomed the danger. The Other Woman obviously wanted me and my curiosity left Carla to the side.
The idea of lying to Carla was worse than lying to myself. When she woke the next morning, she watched me in the bathroom. I brushed my teeth as if I had swallowed sperm.
"Did you have a good time last night?"
"Yeah," I gargled.
"Did you get laid?"
I paused, and realized my silence had said enough. I didn't lie.
We talked until we yelled, we cried until we said good-bye. I see her around town every now and again and she is invariably-- genuinely-- nice and interested in my well being.
I lost something that night that I will never have again.
And so has Eric. He can't go back and pretend that he didn't fuck some guy in the bathroom. I pondered if Drew and him would be able to get through this.I hoped they would.
