You almost make me regret getting married, Suzie replies.
Rose’s advice strikes a chord with me, though I’m not exactly sure what it is that resonates. I know this is one of those conversations that I’ll be replaying in my head for days and analyzing from different angles.
My old-fashioned apartment building comes into sight, Victorian rooftops and tiny iron balconies with well-tended planter boxes. Home. Suddenly, I’m aware of how drained I am on every level. Even my thumbs are tired as I type out a last set of messages. I need to think about this. Just got home. Going to call it a night. Thank you for talking to me. I feel better. Sorry to bother you so late. Love you guys.
It’s no bother. We love you! says Suzie.
Anytime! LOVE YOU! Good night! says Rose.
THREE
Quan
I MIGHT BE AN ADDICT.
A running addict. If my mom caught me doing drugs, she’d chase after me with a clothes hanger—she wouldn’t catch me, though. I ran yesterday for three hours, and I’m at it again today even though my left knee’s been acting up. I just can’t seem to stop. Lately, it’s the only thing that keeps my mind off stuff.
When I turn onto my street, my head is calm and the only things I want are a cold drink of water and ice for my knee, but Michael is waiting outside my apartment building. He’s got sunglasses on, his hair is perfect, and he looks like he’s ready for a fashion shoot. It’s kind of disgusting.
“Hey,” I say, using the front of my T-shirt to wipe the sweat from my face. “What’s going on?” It’s a Saturday, and he’s always got stuff going on with his wife, Stella. It’s weird for him to be here.
Michael pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head and gives me a direct look. “You haven’t been picking up, so I started to worry.”
“I must have forgotten it on Do Not Disturb again.” I pull my phone out of the holder strapped to my arm, and sure enough, there are a bunch of missed calls. “Sorry.”
“This isn’t like you,” Michael says.
“I forgot,” I say with a shrug, but I’m purposefully missing the point. I know what he’s getting at. I just don’t want to talk about it.
He doesn’t let me avoid the topic, though. “So, did you hear from the doctor? What did they say?” His face is creased, and I notice now that he’s got bags under his eyes.
I guess that’s because of me, and I’m sorry for it. He’s really tried to be there for me over the past two years. Some things I just have to do alone, though. I squeeze his arm and smile reassuringly. “It’s official, I’m good. Completely recovered.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you lying because you don’t think I can handle the truth?”
“No, I’m really all better,” I say with a laugh. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” Aside from my rickety knee, I’ve never been healthier. Things could have been much worse, and I know how lucky I am. I’m more grateful than words can describe.
But big life events change people, and the truth is I’m different now. I’m still figuring everything out.
Michael surprises me with a crushing hug. “You motherfucker. You had me so scared.” He pulls away, laughs in between deep breaths, and swipes at his eyes, which are suspiciously red. The sight makes my own eyes prick, and we’re about to have some kind of emotional man moment when he grimaces and rubs his palms on his pants. “You’re all wet and gross.”
I smirk, relieved that the intense moment has passed, and barely resist the urge to smother him with my sweaty armpit. Two years ago, I would have done it without hesitation. See? I’m different.
He probably wants to talk, so I sit down on the steps outside my building and motion for him to join me, which he does. For a while, we sit side by side and enjoy the afternoon, the cool air, the rustling of the leaves in the trees that line the street, the occasional passing car. It’s kind of like when we were kids and used to sit on the front porch of my house and watch the homeless guy walk by in nothing but a T-shirt. Seriously, why wear a shirt if you’re going to leave your dick hanging out?
“I’d invite you up to my place, but it stinks. I think it’s my dishes.” I haven’t done the dishes in … I don’t know how long. Pretty sure they’re growing mold. Recently, I’ve been eating out a lot due to pure laziness and dish avoidance.
Michael chuckles and shakes his head. “Maybe you should hire a cleaning person.”