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Because I was a giant pile of chicken shit with a healthy dose of wounded pride.
Adam had emailed me only once in the days afterward to say he had received my vacation request and he and Rob had approved it. We had established early on a checks and balances system that required all three of us to sign off on just about everything, including time off.
His message had been curt and to the point. He concluded it by saying we would talk in the new year about “steps forward”—whatever that meant. There was no Happy Holidays. No kindest regards. It was cold and distant. It was clear I had ruined more than one relationship with this whole crap fest.
Rob, on the other hand, checked in every few days. I could tell he was concerned in his bland, Rob Jenkins way. He mentioned he was traveling to upstate New York to stay with family for Christmas but that he’d stop by when he got back.
Go see your mom or your friends. Don’t sit around your apartment feeling sorry for yourself, he wrote.
He didn’t know what he was talking about. I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself.
I was too drunk to feel much of anything.
I had maintained a blissful state of inebriation since the night of the party. If I found my mind drifting too much in the direction of Marlena and our baby, I would promptly crack open a beer and drink its contents as quickly as possible.
Okay, so it wasn’t the most mature response to the situation at hand, but my emotional wheelhouse was limited, and I was tired of trying to think my way out of the bullshit I found myself in.
Of course, intoxication often leaned itself to morose musings and hours spent staring at old text messages Lena had sent me over the last few months. God, I was ridiculous.
I seesawed between telling myself to call her and berating my immature decisions. Of course, a gorgeous, smart, capable woman like Marlena wouldn’t want to be tied to me in any way. I was her mistake. Her blip on the radar.
Even if we had that one magical weekend together where it seemed we were headed somewhere, it was all a grand delusion. We weren’t suited for each other. I could never be the family man she wanted.
What could I possibly offer her and our child except for misery and heartache? I couldn’t even commit enough to decorate my fucking apartment. What made me, or anyone else, think I could commit to playing daddy?
Sure, I could point to my terrible upbringing as an excuse, but that only carried me so far. At some point, I had to take responsibility for my inability to be healthy and stable support to the people I loved. I had been using my father as a reason to not get close to anyone, but that was a load of shit. It all boiled down to the fact that I was afraid. I was scared to death that I’d fail, and failure was my biggest phobia. So instead of dealing with the giant cesspool I had made of my life, I decided to hide away in my apartment like a hermit.
I was sitting on my couch, drinking my seventh beer of the day, barely watching a crappy made for TV Christmas movie on my laptop, just in case I wasn’t feeling bad enough about myself when the doorbell rang.
Maybe it was Marlena.
Maybe she was here to forgive me.
I eagerly went to the door. I stopped before opening it, taking the time to smooth my hair and shirt.
“Hey…” my voice drifted off when I saw who waited for me on the other side.
“Nice to see you too, baby,” Greta Hayes sing-songed, gliding into the hallway wearing a sunny smile and not much else.
My once long-term hook up looked gorgeous with her long blonde hair styled and falling over her shoulders. Her winter coat was unzipped to reveal a bustier that pushed her magnificent tits practically up to her chin. She wore a short, frilly schoolgirl skirt with garters holding up sheer stockings. Greta had come dressed to fuck.
She leaned against me, going up on her tiptoes so she could reach my mouth. “Long time, no see,” she murmured, trying to press her bright red lips against mine. I turned my face to the side so that her mouth landed on my jaw. She backed up with a frown. “Not exactly the reception I expected. Particularly with me dressed like this.”
She took off her coat and flung it on the back of a chair. She put a hand on her hip and pouted. “I’m not wearing underwear, Jeremy.”
“Yeah, now’s not a good time, Greta.” I turned and walked back to the living room, hoping she’d see her own way out. I had always liked Greta. She was the closest thing to a girlfriend I had ever had—before Marlena. She worked as a nurse in the pediatric unit and I met her at a bar one night after her shift. What had started as a hot one-night stand turned into a more or less consistent hookup. She came over when she was horny and vice versa. But I hadn’t spoken to her in some time. Not since she met a nice guy named Josh and she was determined to give monogamy a try. I had wished her luck and that had been the end of it. No hard feelings. Then Lena and I started sleeping together, and I completely forgot about the woman who used to warm my bed.
