10. 10
10
The Persephone Diner was a small breakfast spot within walking distance from Swole . Early birds and groups of elderly patrons chattered, filling the small building with a low hum of conversation, only to be interrupted by the odd belly laugh and the clatter of cups being refilled. A waitress, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, poured the last of her carafe into Barrett’s cup. After an appreciative and flirtatious nod from him, she blushed and hurried away.
Anthony and his sister sat in a red leather booth across from him, waiting for someone to break the awkward silence.
“What’s going on with you, man?” Barrett asked, staring at his friend.
After a pause, Charlotte nudged her brother. “You gonna tell him, or do you want me to?”
Anthony’s gaze remained stuck on his own coffee cup. It was as if his weary eyes silently begged the black liquid to make footholds, allowing him a way out of the hole he had dug for himself.
“Fine,” Charlotte said. “He’s been pretending he’s an eligible bachelor and trying to live a sort of Playboy lifestyle. Except, he has no charm, no game, and the seduction style of Helen Keller.”
Barrett snorted, bringing his coffee cup to his face to hide his smile. “I take it you didn’t take my advice and go crawling back?”
A tear ran down Anthony’s cheek, and he quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of his tattered hoodie. “No. And I’m glad my crumbling marriage is so amusing to the both of you.”
“Did you tell him what you did?” Charlotte asked Anthony, setting her cup back down on the table. Beneath her zip-up athletic wear, the peek of her full sports bra drew Barrett’s eye, even though he knew he had as much of a chance with her as a fish would at successfully riding a bicycle. She snapped her fingers in front of Barrett’s face and jerked up the zipper on her skin-tight jacket. “You’re here to help, not stare at my tits.”
“Oh, come on,” Barrett teased, “You, of all people, have to appreciate the lure of the female form.”
“True.” She nodded, turning her face back to her brother. “Go on. Tell him.”
Anthony finally lifted his head, his eyes making contact with Barrett’s momentarily before flicking away again. “She served me with divorce papers, man. It’s over.”
Wide-eyed, Barrett stared at him. “What? What the hell happened?”
With a pressing glare from his sister, Anthony continued, “I… kissed someone. It was stupid.”
Barrett laughed. “We talkin’ above the belt or below the belt?”
“Would you knock it the fuck off?” Charlotte snapped, drawing the other quiet patron’s attention.
“You’re right. Sorry. This is serious. Okay, so you kissed someone… presumably other than your wife?”
Anthony nodded solemnly. “She was an old friend. It just sort of… happened. It wasn’t that big of a deal. At least, I didn’t think it was. It was a mistake. I was hammered. I never said anything to Linda because I knew it would just piss her off. It’s not like I fucked the girl.”
“Yeah, but you see why it’s still shitty, right?” Charlotte asked.
“Of course.” He grimaced. “Couple weeks later, word finally got back to Linda. And she freaked out because the people that told her said we did more, and I looked guiltier than I was because I’d hid it from her. It was just a kiss, she’s blowing this shit way out of proportion.”
Charlotte slapped Anthony’s head and leaned back in the booth. “And that’s why you’re a fucking idiot. You don’t accept responsibility. Hold yourself accountable. Be a man, Anthony.”
“She’s right,” Barrett said.
Anthony shot him a glare and pushed up on the table. “Look, I’m dealing with enough. I don’t need more shit from you two.”
Jerking the fabric of his hoodie, Charlotte held Anthony in place. “Sit your scrawny ass down. We’re not done.”
Anthony pulled the fabric out of his sister’s hand and sat, crossing his arms. “I kissed someone! Big-fuckin-woop. Linda’s acting like I knocked the bitch up. It was one stupid kiss!”
“Where’s Linda? You want me to talk to her?” Barrett asked.
“She’s still down in El Paso! Said she’s having a lawyer draw up papers as we speak.”
“Maybe she’s bluffing.” Barrett shrugged.
“She’s gone, Barrett. Won’t answer my calls, my texts, nothing. I found out about the papers because she texted my Mom .”
Barrett winced. It was worse than he thought. “What are you gonna do about the kids?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“You seemed happy the other day, man. What happened to Party Anthony ?”
“ Party Anthony is who got me in deep shit, to begin with,” he mumbled, picking at a chip in the table’s laminate top.
Charlotte leaned toward Barrett, jerking her thumb toward her brother. “Now, instead of doing the legwork to smooth things over with Linda, he thinks he’s suddenly got the license to be Hugh Hefner.”
“What do you mean?” Barrett asked, trying to curb the grin plucking at the edge of his lips at the thought of Anthony in a satin robe with a babe on each arm.
Anthony straightened his posture, his voice angry. “Hey, if she wants to leave and take my kids all the way to fucking Texas, I figure I have every right to make the most of it.”
“Oh no,” Barrett mumbled.
“Yup!” Charlotte chimed in, slapping her brother so hard on the back his body jostled. “My brother’s been fucking every willing wet hole in Jackson with a pulse.” She laughed. “Moron already caught crabs.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Anthony growled, collapsing into himself again. “You gonna tell everyone in town all my business? Jesus, Char, why don’t we take out a fucking billboard?”
“They’re pricey. You’re lucky my girlfriend has expensive taste, or I’d have already nabbed one of those fuckers. Plastered your face right on the sumbitch,” she teased.
Anthony shook his head. “We’re separated . I’m allowed to do what I want!”
“Does she know you’re separated?” Charlotte asked.
“Well, if she’d fucking talk to me, she would.” Anthony looked at Barrett, seeking sympathy. “Come on. Of all people, you know how nice it is. Late nights. Beautiful women. Booze. Dancing. Loud music. Freedom . Real fucking freedom. Not sitting at home, listening to the old ball-and-chain bitch about her mother for the umpteenth time, or having her nag me for not helping around the house. No telling me to go jerk off because she has some kind of perpetual headache.”
He leaned back and continued, “It’s my time. If I wanna eat fried chicken for every meal, nobody is going to tell me not to. Watch porn in the living room? Who’s gonna stop me? I married Linda straight outta high school. I never got to live your life, Barrett. See, you had it right all along. You’re too smart for that shit. You never shackled yourself to a mortgage and marriage. You’re out there just bein’ free. Relationships are a fucking trap. You saw it, but I couldn’t. You always knew to cut that shit loose before it got too serious.”
Barrett leaned forward. “So if this is the life , why do you look so fucking miserable?”
“I dunno.” Anthony’s lip quivered.
“I’ll tell you why, Anthony. Because the grass isn’t greener on this side of the fence, motherfucker. It’s a paved parking lot over here. You wanna live like me? You wanna be a playboy? Fine. Cut your hair. Shave your damn face. Work on that doughy-ass body.”
The waitress arrived with their plates. In front of Charlotte, she set down a bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit and a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Barrett. She set a plate of French toast in front of Anthony, whose face temporarily lifted in a smile before falling back to its sullen stare.
“Thanks.” Barrett nodded to the waitress before swapping his plate with Anthony.
Reaching for it back, Barrett blocked Anthony’s hands.
“Those are yours now. Lean protein. It’ll help you stop looking like a soft, pissed-off-looking little incel.”
“What the fuck?!” Anthony groaned.
Barrett dug a fork into the sugary confection and lifted a bite of French toast to his mouth. His shoulders slunk at the orgasmic taste of dough and powdered sugar on his tongue. “You wanna pull quality ass, you gotta work on that body.”
Glancing down, Anthony frowned. “Chicks like dad-bods!”
“You’re a deadbeat dad at best right now. No kids, no dad-bod. Now, how much money you got?”
“Some. Not a lot. Why?”
“You’ve got a mortgage with one income, and now you’ll have to pay for dates and a new wardrobe.”
“My wardrobe is fine.”
“No. You have work clothes and whatever this monstrosity is.” Charlotte gestured to him. “Women don’t want a guy dressed like the Unabomber, douche-bag. You gotta care before they care.”
“You got away with that shit because you were married. Now you need date clothes. After this, we’ll go shopping.” Barrett pointed toward the door with his syrup-covered fork.
“I hate clothes shopping.”
“I can tell,” Charlotte said, jabbing her fork at his hoodie. “Tough shit. Linda’s in the dust. Ain’t nobody gonna dress you now.”
Anthony stared at the French toast that was supposed to be his. “I know what you two are doing. You’re just trying to scare me into going back.”
“Not at all,” Barrett lied, giving him his best smile. “I’m happy to have a wing-man again. It’ll be great. Now, let’s talk sex. What’s your favorite position?”
“Oh God.” Charlotte dropped her spoon in her bowl with a sharp clink .
“All of them.” Anthony shrugged.
“Women like decisive men. Men in control. Men who know what they want. Now come on, favorite position?”
“Woman on top?” It was more of a question than an answer.
“Ugh. I’m gonna be sick,” Charlotte joked, puffing out her cheeks like she was about to vomit. “I could have gone my whole life without knowing that.”
“Well, saddle up, pardner, that’s not your favorite anymore,” Barrett said confidently.
“What? Why?”
“That’s a lazy man’s position. If you wanna blow a girl’s mind, it’s not gonna be from below. Sure, it’s fun for you. But it’s not memorable for her. It’s not something that will make anyone come back for more. At that point, she could just get a suction-cup dildo and call it a day without all the headache and cleanup.”
“They make those?” Anthony asked seriously.
Charlotte choked on a mouthful of coffee and quickly started snatching the napkins from the dispenser, covering her lips.
“Jesus Christ. You know what… let’s work on your pick-up lines.” Barrett scooted the plate away and leaned his chin on his knuckles. Batting his eyelashes, he widened his eyes and pretended to flip long, imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I’m a beautiful woman at a bar. Go ahead. Show me what you got.”
Anthony’s cheeks flushed red, and his eyes darted back and forth between Barrett and his sister. “Oh, come on. Char is right there.”
“You don’t think women are gonna have friends around? Or other guys trying to pick them up? You’ll have to learn to do this with an audience, bud. Go ahead. Lay it on me. Show me the magic.”
“Um… excuse me… Miss…”
Barrett loudly made the noise of a game show’s incorrect answer buzzer.
“What was that?!”
“I said like four words!” Anthony groaned defensively.
“Anthony, that approach is great… if you wanna come at it like a caveman, bop her on the head, and drag the bitch home unconscious.”
“Oh, like you could do any better.”
Barrett turned to Charlotte and smiled. “Wow.” He laughed and feigned a sudden expression of seduction worthy of an Oscar. “You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pick-up line. What do you say I buy you a drink while I try to remember it?” He reached across the table to wipe a droplet of coffee from Charlotte’s lip. She recoiled at the contact, but he stayed in character. “Sorry, Sweetheart, you had a little something there.”
Charlotte cackled and turned away. “And that’s when I swoop and nab the woman right after you scare her off.”
Anthony gritted his teeth. “I’m not incompetent. I managed to get Linda to marry me. I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Alright, Casanova.” Barrett’s smile dissipated. “Let’s say you’ve moved up to seduction master status. What then? Are you good with your life just existing around that? This week, you’ve seen all there is to see on this side. Dirty sex. Crabs. Drinking. Hangovers. Star-fishing across your bed. Sleeping with your dick out. Eating whatever the hell you want. Next week you’ll start to realize that nobody gives a shit about you. Every chore in your lonely-ass day, it’s all on you. There’s no one to share the load of life with.”
Barrett was getting flustered now, losing some of his cool facade as he continued. “See, you got duped by some cardboard 2-D version of what you thought life would be like without Linda. Tell me, what was so fucking awful about a woman showing you she cared about you every single day? About kids who needed you around to teach them about life, to teach them what to expect out of a real man?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Life is hard. People die. Shit happens to our bodies. We get laid off, lose our friends, and get swallowed up in a pile of bills. Stop and think about if you want to go through all the hard shit in life alone. Because Linda is there, ready to share those future burdens with someone. How fun will it be to see her sharing her life with someone else one day? Because lemme tell ya, she will move on.”
Anthony pulled back his sleeve to look at a colorful beaded bracelet his son crafted for him with his favorite colors. “Even if I went to El Paso and groveled, there’s nothing I can say that won’t make things worse.”
Charlotte pulled his face toward hers. “That’s not true, bro. Start with ‘I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I made a huge mistake, and I want to make it up to you.’”
“That would mean you’d have to genuinely give a shit, though,” Barrett said seriously, finally sliding the French toast to its rightful owner. “If you go, don’t phone it in. You broke her trust. Earning it back is a process. If you’re in, be all-in.”
Taking a forkful of doughy deliciousness, Anthony felt the heavenly treat practically dissolve on his tongue. He snickered a little. “I could never look like you anyway. I love carbs and post-sex ice cream too much.”
“Ewww! Again, I didn’t need to know that!” Charlotte grimaced, shooting her brother another look of disgust.
Barrett laughed and set down his fork, suddenly losing his appetite. His smile fell. The talk had backfired. For the first time in a while, Barrett wondered if, in fact, he was the one who had made the wrong choice by spending most of his adult life playing the field.