Chapter Thirteen
I had thought about a three-month roommate anniversary celebration but decided against it. Roommates didn’t do that, and we weren’t really roommates. We were fuck buddies who did some couple-like things.
One of my favorites was cuddling on the couch, sipping coffee, and scrolling on our phones.
We’d go hours without speaking, just existing with one another.
I enjoyed existing with Alec. He improved my existence.
Nothing could change for the next forty years, and I’d have been happy.
No labels. No obligations. Nothing. Just him and me, crushing it at work, fucking like deranged bonobos, and cuddling on the couch on rainy Sunday mornings.
One such Sunday, after deciding not to mention the anniversary, the doorbell rang.
I got up, saying, “Did you order something?”
“No. You?”
“Nope.”
I found a delivery person holding a thick envelope. He said, “Is there an Alister Whitaker here?”
“Alister?” I asked the guy, then turned to Alec, who was approaching from behind with a weird face.
He moved in front of me, blocking the doorway. “I’m Alister Whitaker. How can I help you?”
“Alister?” I said again, ignoring the guy while Alec ignored me.
“You’ve been served.” He handed Alec the envelope. “This is a petition for divorce between you and Vivian Whitaker. If you have questions, you or your attorney can reach out using the contact information. Have a good day.”
The guy gave me a halfhearted smile and walked away. Alec stared at the thick envelope in his hands without moving.
“Sorry, man.” I rubbed his back a few times.
“I hope you’re not gonna have to pay for that guy.
Was it really necessary to serve you like that?
It’s not like it’s contested. Or a surprise.
” I stilled my hand. “How did he even find you? Must be some private eye shit. You’re definitely not paying for that. ”
Alec didn’t move. Sometimes, he needed to process stuff, seeing it from every angle. I was sure he thought the same way I did, wondering how much that cost and if it would be taken from their shared funds.
“How did I not know your first name was Alister?” I asked. He remained staring at the envelope. “Kinda hot. Regal sounding. I’ll have to call you Sir Alister next time.” I chuckled.
Alec didn’t react or respond. I stared at him for a few seconds, my smile fading.
“Alec?” I said. “Alec?” I said again. “Alister?!”
He brushed past me to sit on the couch, still staring at the envelope in his hands.
I watched him go, then followed and sat beside him. “Alec? Are you okay, man?”
He tore his eyes away and looked at me with a blank face.
After a beat, he said, “I was named after my father and grandfather, but I’ve always hated it.
I told HR to refer to me as Alec in all official capacities where possible.
” He looked away. “And Viv knows where I am. I told her I moved in with you.”
“What do you mean? Does she know we’re like… fucking?”
“What? No.” He sounded offended. “I told her I was crashing with you for the time being if she needed to contact me. She’s still legally my wife.”
“Sorry. Are you okay?”
His offense dissipated, revealing several of his pieces. Pain and confusion so far outside my depth that it soured my stomach.
He placed the envelope on the coffee table. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound or look fine.”
He didn’t look at me. “How do you expect a man who just got served divorce papers to look and sound, Mason?”
I was messing up, big time. I’d like to think I was more empathetic than a big dumb rock, and knew he needed my comfort and support, as shitty as that may have been.
I sighed and placed my hand on his back. “It’s okay. Or it will be. You’re here, we’re having a good time, everything is looking up,” I said, sliding my arm around him. “You want a blow job? That’ll make you feel better.”
He shrugged me off with a disgusted face. “What the fuck? Right now? Really?”
I knew I fucked up as soon as I said it. That kind of shit was always hard for me. Whenever a buddy of mine was having a hard time, or going through a breakup, I wasn’t the one to sit and listen to him for hours. I took him out, got him shitfaced, and tried to get his dick wet.
“Sorry,” I sat back from him. “Not the time. That wasn’t cool.”
He softened. “No. I get it. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
His sad smile broke me. I couldn’t fathom what it was like to go through a divorce. Or how it feels to love someone enough to marry them in the first place. I didn’t understand it, but I needed to try my best to bear it.
“Can I hug you?”
“Of course.”
I wrapped him in a tight embrace. He rested his head on my shoulder when I let him go.
We sat in silence for a while. He laced his fingers in mine.
We’d taken to holding hands as a silent form of support.
A small physical gesture when words fail.
For two loudmouthed salespeople like us, it was rare and meaningful.
“What’s going on up there?” I said, tapping his head.
His voice was soft, and sadder than I thought possible. “Just… a lot.”
“Like what?”
“No, just that… it’s a lot. There’s a lot going on up here,” he tapped his head, “that I’m sure you don’t need to hear.”
It was the lowest I had ever seen him. How could I be left with the task of bringing him up? It made me sick to my stomach.
“I don’t know if I need to, but I want to.”
He looked up at me with red, dry eyes. “Thanks, Mason,” he said, before putting his head back on my shoulder.
“It’s just… so fucked up. Looking at that stack of papers just shows me how badly I fucked up my life.
And it makes me feel…” He sighed. “I don’t know how I feel.
Sad, maybe? Stupid? Yeah, stupid. A real fucking idiot. ”
“You’re not stupid. People get divorced. It’s just a fact of life. Some things don’t work out, and that’s okay.”
“Yeah, but I knew it was wrong from the start. I had a panic attack on our wedding day. I should’ve known then. Stupid fucking piece of shit.”
“You loved her, Alec.”
“Not really, no. Viv was a good friend, and we had sex, but that’s not love.”
We were friends and had great sex. What was so wrong with that?
“Yes, it is. Maybe not as much as a husband should love his wife, but you still loved her. You’ve said so.”
“Like a friend, maybe. Like my dad loved my mom. Not in love. Not dizzy, weak in knees, can’t stop thinking about them, love.”
Dizzy, weak in the knees, can’t stop thinking about them. Love.
I’d never come close to that. I always thought it was bullshit, or something most of the population wasn’t capable of. Happy I understood. Being content? Sure. But not that. No way.
“Is that real, or just Disney fantasy stuff?”
He looked up at me. “Yes.” He looked down.
“You sound so sure.”
“I am sure.”
“How?”
He looked up, then down, before speaking. “Because it’s gone, and it’s ripping me apart. If something that wasn’t even real can do that, what can the genuine article do?”
That wasn’t proof of existence, but I let it slide and squeezed his hand. “If you say so.”
“You know, I don’t even like this area?” he said after a few moments. “But I went to school here, and it was the first place I really put down roots.”
“Really? I like this area. Big city vibes without the cost.”
He snorted. “It’s shit. And dirty. And I knew that, but what did I do?
I bought a house I couldn’t afford and got married too young to the wrong person all to start a family—something permanent and real—which I can’t even biologically do, and now it’s like…
I just feel uprooted. Ungrounded. Unstable. ”
I squeezed his hand. “I think you need to take a step back. This is a good thing. Moving on when you should is a good thing. Marriages end, man. It’s not the end of the world.”
He snorted. “Sure fucking feels like it.”
“C’mon. No, it doesn’t.”
“It… really kinda does. Viv was my sense of security. That’s the biggest reason I stayed. And now that’s gone. It’s like I’m adrift in a sea of bad life choices. Nothing to hold me together. Nothing underfoot.”
Christ, he was bleak. Not knowing how to make him feel better made my pits warm. But I had to, even if I wanted to go for a run. Or a walk. Or anything that wasn’t sitting there with him. Which only made me feel worse.
“Look, I know you’re feeling like shit right now, and I don’t blame you, but you’re an awesome person. Head to toe.” I touched his head and then his knee. “You know that. I know you do.”
“Maybe. Probably not—I’ve fucked up every major life choice I’ve ever made.
” He counted on his fingers. “Where to go to school. Where to live. Who to marry. Even my profession. And I mean, yeah, a lot of that is because my parents royally fucked me up, but I’m an adult man.
After a while, my choices—my failures—are my own.
And what are we but the sum of our choices? ”
“Alec, dude, come the fuck on.” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “You’re getting divorced, not going to jail for being the Worst Person. You picked the wrong wife, but your school is great, this is a perfectly fine place to live, and you’re the number one sales rep.”
He sat up, letting me go. “Being number one doesn’t mean I like it.”
“What? You don’t like sales? Fuck off. You love it. You’re a born huckster, in your own words.” I laughed again.
“Not really, no. I’m good at it, but I hate it. And being good at something you don’t like doing can only sate you for so long. But I still do it.” His body language shifted, and his voice rose. “Every day. Crushing it. Number one salesperson. And you know why?”
“No, Alec. Listen—”