Page 62 of All I Ask
“Okay, does your equipment not—”
“No!” he says quickly and nudges me. “My dick works just fine.”
Great. Now I’m picturing his dick. He had to say it.
“All right then.” I look at my drink, trying to understand why the hell he and Meghan didn’t have sex for seven years. That’s a really long time.
“Go ahead and ask…” Derek pushes.
Don’t have to ask me twice.
“Why the hell didn’t you have sex with your wife in seven years?”
He grabs his beer and drains it. “Because she and I were basically separated. We were roommates, trying to make things normal for Everly, but they weren’t working. So, it was…hard.”
“Or not,” I joke.
“Or not.” Derek laughs. “So, clearly you need to drink because…I win.”
My eyes narrow and I want to give him this win because, Dear God. Then I remember how much my story is really worse than his. He could’ve left. He could’ve found someone else or whatever, but he chose to stay with Meghan.
“Nice try, buddy, but you didn’t have to push a baby out of your vagina alone.” I push the shot toward him. “While your lack of sex is pretty sad, it’s not depressing enough to win, therefore”—my voice has a hint of mockery to it—“you’re drinking.”
Derek leans back in the chair, swirling the shot glass in his hand. “You don’t think being married and not allowed to have sex isn’t the sadder story here?”
“You were with Meghan when Everly was born, right?”
He deadpans. “Right.”
I laugh without humor. “Imagine that entire scene but no one there to share it with. Imagine the pain and no one to hold your hand but some stranger who can’t remember your name correctly.”
“Why didn’t you call your mother?”
This is the question she asks me anytime I bring it up. The answer is stupid, but it’s the truth. “I didn’t want anyone to see me that way.”
“What way?”
I allow the hurt to fill my eyes because the word is…pathetic at best. “Broken.”
He reaches his hand out to touch mine, but he pulls it back.
Instead of saying something, which I see he wants to, he grabs his shot and tosses it back. “Fuck.”
I giggle as he shudders from the burn. “You should’ve asked for a chaser.”
“Chasers are for pussies.”
I burst out laughing. “Which you haven’t had in seven years, my friend. So I guess you going without one tonight is par for the course.”
He moves in, his lips against my ear. “Those in sexless houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
There’s something I’d like to throw and it isn’t a stone. Like myself…at him…which will not happen.
“Okay, you go. We’re one and one.”
I can’t wait to hear this one. Again, I’ve got ammunition for days. “I’ve gotta think…”
There’s a few things I could go with, like the fact that Keith makes millions of dollars and I make minimum wage. Or how my car barely works and I can’t afford to fix it so I bribe our local mechanic with free gifts from the store whenever he’s in the dog house.
