Chapter 14
Jack
Fifteen Weeks
Griffin: Hey man, you busy?
Jack: About to leave work, what’s up?
Griffin: Nothing, I just feel like I haven’t seen you in awhile.
Griffin: Wanna grab a beer?
Jack: Sure, I’ll meet you at the bar
Griffin: Sounds good
Griffin is already sitting at a high top with two bottles of Shiner by the time I get there. He lifts up the bottle as a greeting, and I clink mine against his while I slide onto the barstool.
“Oh shit, wait, give me a minute,” I say, pulling my phone out of my back pocket. On the second ring, I hear Abby’s familiar voice, warmth flooding through me at the sound.
“Hi, Jack Robbit,” she says. “Are you on your way home?”
“Don’t call me that,” I reply automatically. “And actually no, I’m going to grab a drink with Griffin and be home in a couple hours. You going to be okay?”
“I’ll manage,” she sighs dramatically. “But bring home fries.”
“Yes ma’am,” I chuckle. “See you in a bit.”
Stowing my phone away again, I’m caught off guard to see a grim look on Griffin’s face when I look up at him.
“You okay, man?” I ask. “You look upset.”
“Listen, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words very carefully. “But I don’t want you to think that I think you’re doing anything wrong.”
“I mean, last time I checked I’m not up to anything nefarious,” I say, bewildered. “What’s up?”
He takes a long drink of beer, steeling himself for whatever he’s about to drop on me. “I’m a little worried about you.”
“Why?”
“It’s just,” he hesitates. “I guess I’ll just say it–I’m worried about how much you’re taking on with helping Abby. You’ve never once talked about how you’re doing with losing Aaron, and I think you might be avoiding it by throwing yourself into taking care of her.”
Anger boils in my stomach and up through my chest. What the hell is he talking about?
“I’m handling my shit in my own way,” I snap. “And what’s wrong with helping my best friend through the worst thing that’s ever happened to her? Mind you, she's also growing a literal person right now, on top of everything else.”
“Nothing is wrong with that, Jack, I already told you this isn’t a criticism.
It’s just concern from a friend who knows you probably better than anyone.
Just give me something man, I’m trying to understand here.
You’ve left us in the dark since the day of the accident.
I know you’re a stoic guy, but this is reclusive even for you. ”
I don’t speak for several minutes, trying to gather my thoughts. I don’t know what there is to understand, I’m just making sure Abby’s taken care of, the way I think Aaron would want me to.
Something painful clenches in my core–when I think of Aaron these days, I think of him in terms of his relationship with Abby. Thinking about our friendship repeatedly rips the wound of his loss open, and if I cave into that feeling, I’m scared I might never come out.
“You and David have been my best friends since the day I moved here,” I say in a low voice. “You know that. But my friendship with Aaron, with his parents, with Abby–that was an entirely new kind of family for me. I don’t even know where to start in dealing with this kind of loss.”
I want to be angry at the pained look on his face. I want to accuse him of pitying me, and storm out of this bar right now. But I know my friend well enough to know it’s not pity or patronizing–it’s the face of a friend who carries your pain with you.
“It’s unimaginable,” he says softly. “And horrific. And you experienced it in a way that no one else did. And I’m so sorry for that.”
I nod, my throat tightening. This is exactly why I’ve avoided this conversation. Once that dam breaks, I’m terrified that I’ll be swept away.
“I don’t like to think about it.” My voice is hoarse, and I clear my throat, taking a sip of my drink before continuing. “Chief thinks I might have some PTSD, but that feels dramatic. I didn’t go to fucking war, I just lost a friend, that’s all.”
“You know it’s more than that,” he argues.
“If you’re not ready to talk about that night, I won’t push you.
But you’re going to have to talk to someone about it eventually.
All I’m saying is, I’ll be here for you when you do.
And so will David. He wanted to be here, but I guess it’s Fall Field Day next week and he has unhinged relay races to plan or whatever. ”
“He really did find his calling huh?” I chuckle, shaking my head. Nothing in this world has ever made more sense than David Romero being a P.E. teacher.
“Thank you,” I add. “For giving me space. For checking in. Even if it pisses me off.”
He laughs loudly, reaching across to clap me on the shoulder.
“Okay, I’m going to ask you another question,” he says in a warning tone. “But don’t get pissed okay?”
“Geez, haven’t you asked enough?” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Do you have feelings for Abby?”
I choke on my beer, sputtering and gasping as it drips off my chin and onto my shirt.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I ask. “It’s Abby. She’s my friend, always has been. She’s also basically been with Aaron since before she knew how to read.”
“That didn’t answer my question though,” he counters, tipping his bottle toward me accusingly. “Those sound like reasons you would tell yourself as to why you shouldn’t have feelings for her.”
“I’m protective of her, I think that’s normal.
I feel at ease when I’m around her. I love her, of course,” I rattle off.
Griffin opens his mouth, but I don’t let him interrupt.
“As a friend, Griffin. As family. She’s a new widow, a soon-to-be mom, and she’s my friend. Nothing more. Don’t be stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s that stupid,” he argues. “You’ve never seriously dated anyone, Jack. I can’t remember the last time you even talked about a girl.”
“Because I’ve never met one important enough to talk about.”
“Have you even tried?”
I think about that for a second. Have I? I don’t think I’ve made a conscious effort not to try, but I can’t say I’ve made any effort either.
“Between training, and now being deputy chief, I wouldn’t say I’ve had much time,” I say evasively. “Plus I spend all of my time with Granny and you bozos. And now all this shit with Aaron has changed everything. I guess I’ve just never felt like I needed anything else in my life.”
“You’ve always been like this, man,” he says. “You’ve always been more focused on making sure everyone else is taken care of than taking care of yourself. Even your job is focused on making sure other people are okay. Who makes sure you’re okay?”
“You guys do,” I say stubbornly. “You act like I’m this impenetrable fortress of solitude, but I let you guys in. I don’t know why you’re acting like I don’t.”
“You let Abby in more than anyone else,” he says cautiously. “And I can’t help but wonder why that is. Having feelings for her wouldn’t be a crime, you know.”
“She’s my best friend,” I repeat. “And my other best friend’s wife. Having feelings for her would be a disaster. But I don’t, so everything is fine. You’re reading into things that aren’t there.”
He hums, clearly unconvinced by my declaration. To be fair, I don’t know if I’m convinced myself. If you asked me what I want in a partner, I think I would describe Abby to a T, even without naming her.
But that doesn’t mean I want her. Just someone like her. Someone who feels like a best friend, someone who draws me out of myself, someone I feel completely comfortable around.
Maybe in another lifetime it would have been her.
Maybe if she’d been single when we met, things would be different.
But this isn’t another lifetime, and she’s been with Aaron since I met her, and I’ve genuinely never thought about it.
I know that seems impossible, I know that people argue that men and women can’t be ‘just friends.’ I happen to disagree.
But now that it’s been brought up, now that Griffin has put the thought in my head–is there a reason I’ve never had a serious relationship?
And is that reason a fiery, intelligent, witty, absolutely fucking stunning redhead, who I’ve never consciously dwelled on but has without a doubt taken up immeasurable space in my heart?
I don’t know if I want to know the answer to that question.
"Listen, if you're not ready to have this conversation, I won't push it," he says, interrupting the runaway train now flying through my mind. "But we're not done talking about this. You can't avoid it forever, Jack."
"I'm not avoiding anything, Griffin," I say stubbornly. "There's no conversation to be had, so nothing to avoid."
To my immense relief, the waitress appears at our table, and I ask for the check quickly before Griffin can stop me.
"Oh wait," I call, catching her before she walks away. "Can I put in a to-go order of fries please?"
"Sure thing," she says with a smile, walking away to run our cards and put the order in. When I turn back to face Griffin, his arms are folded over his chest, with a mixture of smugness and exasperation on his face.
"No conversation to be had, my ass," he grumbles.