Chapter Fourteen #3
I should’ve eaten. I hadn’t since my flight.
Instead of getting food, I talked to Chucky all night, and didn’t wake up until late morning.
Which meant there were no good spots left on the beach.
The only reason I was at that godforsaken hotel in the first place was to lie out and let the sun bake away whatever sorrow I felt. I couldn’t even do that.
The only seat I found, and I mean an upright chair, not a lounger, was shaded by the jetty rocks dividing our beach from the spring breakers. It was pretty shit. My breakfast was a twelve-dollar packet of crackers. The only thing I wanted to do was inaccessible, and I was exhausted.
On the flight over, the one thought that gave me solace was the bed.
We were crowded in my tiny double at home.
The kings and queens on the road were better, but he was still a damn furnace at night and a sleep-cuddler.
He'd pull me back into his arms if I got away from him for too long.
It was adorable but caused some sleepless nights.
The appeal of a giant resort-style bed all to myself was a pleasant fantasy, but terrible in practice. I was cold. And lonely. We’d only slept together for three months, but I’d gotten so used to Alec beside me that his absence was more noticeable than his sweaty, hairy chest on my back.
I missed him. Pretty fucking badly. Whatever resolve to live my life alone I’d had the night before was dissolving in the bright sun. Seeing all the couples didn’t help. Worse than missing him? The regret and pain.
My feelings for him were so strong that I was hurt because I hurt him.
That was a novel experience. I’d fret for days if I ever hurt anyone, but it had never happened with someone I got naked with.
It added layers I couldn’t comprehend. The worst was trying to understand why people willingly put themselves through it.
Why did humans seek complicated relationships?
Why give another person the ability to harm you?
Or fear harming them? It was stupid, and counterproductive to evolution.
Wouldn’t it be better to live for oneself?
Food and shelter for one would be easier to find than for several.
Protecting yourself from threats was easier than worrying about others.
But we did. Throughout all of human existence, we sought companionship. Romantic and platonic. Why? Why did we need others? Why did I feel like I needed Alec?
Maybe because he provided a material benefit to my life? My place was clean, I ate better food, I had my own personal trainer at the gym, and I wasn’t lonely. But was that worth feeling like shit? Were the positives of having someone equal to or greater than the threat of misery they posed?
I wasn’t going to get answers, but I could catch a mid-morning buzz.
Chucky was sitting at the beach bar. What an interesting existence. No one and nothing. Just the road ahead and the absence of desire to look back. No one could hurt him, nor could he hurt anyone else. His enjoyment, his pleasure, his fancy, whenever, wherever, for as long as he walked the earth.
“Chucky, my man,” I said, slapping his back after walking up to him.
He was speaking to a young couple and didn’t see me approach. He turned around to see who hit him with a sneer. It melted as recognition hit.
“Oh, uh, hello, Matthew,” he said.
Matthew?
I chuckled, wondering if I had misheard him. “It’s Mason, man. From last night.”
“Apologies,” Chucky said with a plastic smile. Then to the couple, “Anyway, you were saying that a groomsman had to be removed? Why so?”
He didn’t invite me to sit, he just continued his conversation as if I wasn’t there. The newly minted couple looked at him, then at me. The wife chuckled and continued with a story she didn’t sound pleased to be telling. Her husband held my gaze, offering a silent apology.
I stood there for too long. So long that the wife glanced at me like I was part of the conversation. I didn’t hear a word she said. It was surreal in the worst way.
The husband had finished the rest of his frozen mixed drink, stood, and said, “It was nice to meet you. But we’ve gotta go. We’ve got that thing.”
His wife, picking up what he was putting down, said, “Oh, yeah. The couple’s massage. Sorry. Didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”
“The spa isn’t open until noon,” Chucky said.
“Oh, uh, ha,” the wife said before taking a last sip of her frozen drink.
Her husband took her hand and said, “Leave it.” Then, “Have a good one,” to Chucky and I.
“Shame. They were fun,” he said before turning to me. “Oh, Matthew, I didn’t realize you had stayed.”
“Man, it’s Mason. We talked all night last night. Did you forget me already?” I laughed, hoping it was a joke.
“Drank a bit too much last night.” He looked me up and down. “Yes, that’s right. You chose to put a ring on a hussy. But if you don’t mind,” he stood up, “I think I’ll take a nap before lunch.”
I laughed, fake and pathetic. “See, you do remember.”
He smiled like I was wasting his time by breathing. “Indeed, I do. That was last night, and now you’re here.”
“I was gonna get a drink. You want one?”
His face soured. “No. I want to nap. I delayed it to hear the rest of their story, but now that’s unlikely.”
“Why?” I asked. “Do you think they left because of me?”
“Can’t say. Passing friends come and go. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped around his barstool and then me.
“Did I offend you or something, man? I thought we had a great conversation last night. You convinced me to never let anyone clip my wings. Remember?”
Chucky looked at me like I was a sad puppy. “You can and should do whatever it is that you feel the need to, young man. That is neither my responsibly nor concern.”
“I… Really?”
“Maybe we’ll chat in the bar tonight if you’re there. But If I’m talking to someone else, I‘d appreciate it if you didn’t dive-bomb my conversation again.” He smiled. “Sometimes things can get a little private. As you’re aware.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, man.”
Chucky walked away after one more smile. I watched him do it.
It was the strangest interaction I’d ever had in my life. Replacing the former weirdest, speaking to him the night before. I ordered a drink, but only had a few sips before I went to my room.
I didn’t put the TV on. Or look at my phone. Or even get off the bed. I just lay there, feet on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
What the fuck was I doing? Why the fuck was I lying there miserable when I could be at the office with Alec?
Then we’d go home, and he’d make dinner.
I’d make him laugh while we ate it. If we were in the mood, we’d fuck, or blow each other.
If not, we’d watch some TV cuddled on my couch before going to bed.
What was so wrong with that? What the fuck was I so scared of?
Being held captive to my responsibilities.
Not being able to go when and where I wanted.
Bending my life to someone else and then asking them to do the same.
Was escaping the threat of being tied down worth what I was feeling? Were limitless choices for the future worth becoming Chucky?
And what the fuck was with that? I had thought he had it all figured out. Live for myself so I’d never be hurt or hurt someone else. That was bullshit, wasn’t it?
Chucky wasn’t free—he was alone. Not a care in his whole person about hurting anyone, or being an asshole. That couple didn’t want to talk to him, but he trapped them. They weren’t friends in passing. They were hostages to his apathetic ego.
That wasn’t freedom. It was indifferent, isolated, estrangement.
“Fuck that,” I said to the ceiling.
I lay there for some time, then showered, dressed, and headed out in search of lunch.
What was so terrifying about being tied down? None of the couples at the lunch buffet seemed to mind. Laughing, eating, and staring at each other like they were worth the world, but didn’t know it. Was that so bad? To look and be looked at, like you were each other’s meaning?
After seeing Chucky bombarding another couple at the buffet and ignoring the urge to save them, I scurried back to my room.
That wasn’t a future I wanted. Nor was it one I could have because I cared about people. If anything, I avoided complications to not hurt others just as much to protect myself. I felt worse because of how I made Alec feel than I did for leaving.
I needed tethers. Like a place to live. I needed a home—Somewhere to lay my head that was mine. Returning was always the best part of traveling, anyway.
There were twenty-three unread texts on my phone. Fifteen were from Alec. I’d avoided opening my messaging app since I left, but it was time to read them. He apologized, asked where I was going and when I’d be home. The last was just, “Your request for PTO has been approved in the portal.”
I kept typing messages and deleting them. What would I say? What could I say? “Sorry I ran away like a child. Please forgive me?” Or “Telling HR about us scared me so much I entered fight-or-flight mode and ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”
That was it, wasn’t it? Alec was the best thing that ever happened to me. He made me better. Improved my life. Pushed me at work and in the gym. Without him, everything was worse. An actual deficit to my standard of living and myself.
More than that, though. I didn’t want to lose him.
I let my phone fall on my chest and sighed a great huff. I stood too fast and felt lightheaded, causing my knees to give way, and landed on the bed again.
Dizzy, weak in the knees, can’t stop thinking about him.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since I left. I focused so hard on the bed because he wouldn’t leave my thoughts. Actually, he had been on my mind, for one reason or another, since that first work trip. No, since we met for our interview. And there I was, dizzy and weak in the knees.
Love.
I loved him. I was in love with him. More and deeper than I’d ever loved anyone or anything in my whole life.
The part of me that yearned for open horizons was fantasy—like replaying failed pitches to win them in my head. I never imagined what it would be like without him. Not really. Not the day-to-day of life without him.
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. That wasn’t freedom, or loneliness, or detached estrangement.
It was the worst mistake of my life. Because Alec Whitaker was worth so much more than feeling trapped.
He was worth my whole life and all my options.
No possibility, no conceivable future, had any goddamn value without him.
No message could say that. Only I could do it in person. I had to go home and talk to him. I needed to tell him how stupid I was. How childish. How immature and sacred. And I needed to right away.
The earliest flight home was the following afternoon. Which was fine. I had prepaid reservations at the hotel restaurant, anyway. It would also give me time to prepare my speech.
It needed to be equal parts apology and explanation.
Not an excuse, but maybe an understanding.
Alec scared and overwhelmed me, but my reaction wasn’t appropriate.
I loved him and was ready to start something real.
Something totally different, and absolutely wonderful.
He was my person. The one I wanted to put down roots with.
Chucky was sitting alone in the bar when I passed through after dinner. He smiled and stretched out his arm, welcoming me to the barstool next to him. I looked straight ahead and kept walking. I needed to get home to my man.
◆◆◆
I’d never been so nervous opening my apartment door.
Or any door. Or ever, in general. I spent the whole day and flight preparing what I’d say when I saw Alec.
But as I pushed my key into the door, it disappeared.
I could only picture his face and how badly I wanted to kiss it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t push me away.
It was so late, it was early. I didn’t get home until one in the morning. I expected Alec to be in bed or fast asleep on the couch. He was neither.
My apartment was dark and cleaner than any hotel room. The carpet had vacuum lines, the kitchen sparkled—even the bathroom mirror had lost its water specks. But there was no Alec.
What there was, on his pillow, was a letter.
Mason,
First of all, I am very sorry I suggested going to HR.
That was beyond foolish of me. I replayed the entire conversation in my head so many times.
It was a massive failure for someone who prides himself on reading people.
I should have had a conversation with you about it first. For that, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.
I can see now that I was using you to ground myself. For the past few years, as my marriage disintegrated, my life became more and more listless. It was wrong of me to pin my sense of security on you. So please, forgive me for that too.
I hopped into something neither of us were ready for. But you need to understand you weren’t a rebound. You were so much more than just my shelter. I enjoyed myself more in these short months than in my whole marriage. Or my entire life.
It’s time I grew my own roots. I realize that now.
Even if you had said yes, and we went to HR, it would again be building a relationship on an unsure footing.
Would we have made it? For a time, yes, I think so.
Forever? Who knows? Things with flawed foundations tend to crumble.
Even if what we had was fleeting, I know I’d never bounce back from us crumbling like that.
Thank you for giving me somewhere to land, the safe harbor from the storm, and yourself.
Sharing your life and your love have profoundly changed me.
A change I intend to grow. I must drift, embrace the unknown, and feel comfortable with ambiguity.
The only way to do that is to leave. Not you or your place, but everything.
We both need a new start. I do very much hope that your options continue to be endless. I also hope that one day, when it’s time and with who it’s meant, you settle down and find happiness. Even if it’s just a fraction of how happy you’ve made me, it’ll be more than most ever experience.
Please don’t worry about me. I will be fine, as will you.
I love you.
Alec