Page 55 of My First Time Fling

Iwas sitting in the living room of Gigi’s house, doing nothing. I’d been doing nothing for a while, I was pretty sure. Not entirely sure, though, because that would have required paying attention to my phone, or clocks, or even the movement of the sun across the sky. I thought I had come into this room when the sun was still up, and now it was dark. But my brain had been pretty weird of late, so who the hell really knew?

Since Sunday—the day I’d broken up with Jesse, the day I couldn’t stop thinking about and wished I could forget—I’d done a whole bunch of nothing. I slept, mostly. Ironically, I’d slept better since the breakup than I had since…well, as far back as I could remember. Possibly since before I’d been deployed. It didn’t make any sense, but there it was.

But no matter how much I slept, I was still walking around the house like a zombie. And I’d never felt worse in my life. I’d even stopped working on house repairs, once I nearly sliced my thumb off on a circular saw on…had it been Tuesday? It was so hard to remember. My shop teacher in seventh grade had been missing a few fingertips. I didn’t really want to end up like him, though it was hard to care too deeply about anything right now.

And then, sitting there, in the living room, doing nothing, I saw it: my life from here on out, my own personal darkest timeline. I’d be cursed to work as a middle-school woodshop teacher, dribbling out my days, ignored by kids who couldn’t look up from their phones, and shunned by colleagues who could see how fucked up I was. I’d be alone.

I wouldn’t even be able to get a pet, since I’d inevitably die in my home, and not be found until the neighbors smelled the stench. I didn’t like the idea of being eaten by a house cat, and I wasn’t sure a dog would eat me, but then my hypothetical dog might die of starvation if itdidn’teat me, and that just seemed extra cruel.

Jesse had texted me some time in the past week. I wasn’t sure exactly when. Part of me felt like I’d spent all week waiting, hoping he’d reach out. Desperate for him to say something to make me see that this was a horrible mistake. And another part of me was grateful he hadn’t. I wasn’t sure I could put up with it if he did.

And then his text, when it did come, broke my heart even more, if that was possible. There was no begging for me to change my mind. No pleading for me to take him back. Just an offer to talk, as friends. The balm of sympathy.

I didn’t deserve it.

I forced myself not to respond, and the fact that I could somehow manage to do that only made me more disgusted with myself, more convinced there was something deeply wrong with me. I wasn’t sure that logic made sense, but I would have had to be more awake than I was to figure it out for certain.

So I just sat there, doing nothing and nothing and more nothing, until there was a knock on the door. I jumped. Gigi was upstairs, doing her best to give me space while also giving me near-constant side-eye at the same time. She hadn’t asked, but I knew she knew what was wrong.

I wanted it to be Jesse at the door. Of course I did. But if it was, would I have the strength to stay away? I had to stay away.

But the knock was insistent. A penetrating rat-a-tat-tat that wouldn’t stop, no matter how much I tried to ignore it. Eventually, Gigi called down from upstairs, asking me who it was. Dammit. She knew I was home and she was forcing me to answer the damn door myself.

I stood up from the chair, and half the joints in my body cracked. Jesus, how long had I been sitting there? I felt stiff as I walked slowly to the front hallway. Gigi had a peephole, and I put my eye to it, holding my breath.

It was Gabe. What the hell was Gabe doing here?

A weird wave of simultaneous relief and regret washed through me. It wasn’t Jesse. It had been arrogant of me to ever think it could have been. But Gabe…

I wanted to see him. Or anyone, really. I needed someone outside my own head, someone to pull me back down to reality. But at the same time, I felt exhausted just thinking about having to explain everything.

Maybe if I didn’t answer, he would just—

“Mark, I know you’re home!” Gabe shouted. “I see your car and I talked to Gigi. She told me you’re here. Mark! I know you can—”

Jesus. I opened the door in a rush. He’d have all the neighbors listening if he kept on like that.

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “So. You’re alive after all.”

“What?”

“Dude, I sent you like, twenty texts. I called you. Multiple times. You just disappeared. I was actually worried enough to look up the landline here, and God bless your grandmother for still having one. I called her, and she told me you were—well, she didn’t say what was wrong, exactly, but she made it clear that something was. When I asked her if she thought I was overreacting to be worried, she said no. And when I said I was thinking about coming to check on you, she just asked how soon I could get here.”

“You called Gigi?” I was still trying to make sense of what he was saying. “She told you to come?”

“Yeah, dude. I told you, I was worried. Now let me in before I sweat to death, and you have to clean my goo-ified remains off the porch.”

An hour later, Gabe leaned forward on the couch in the living room and steepled his fingers, giving me a long look over the top of them. I’d retreated to my chair, too embarrassed for him to see the person-shaped dent I’d made in it. It would probably stay that way for weeks. I felt like I was in for a dose of Gabe’s signature bro-wisdom and I didn’t think I was going to like it.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. That sucks. It all really sucks.”

“I—um, thanks?” That wasn’t what I’d expected. Gabe fell silent and just looked at me. Maybe he was trying to be sympathetic, but I suddenly felt like I needed to say something else. Not that I had any clue what that should be. “I mean, it does suck. But I guess—I mean, I think—that is—fuck. It’s the only thing I could have done, right?”

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “Only you can know that. It just sucks that you have to make that kind of a choice in the first place. Not fair, really. It can’t have been easy for you. I’m sorry I didn’t know how bad things were getting. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”

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