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My best friend told me she loved me before ending the call, leaving me to sit in the silence of my car.
Why did this suddenly make me feel like the walls were closing in on me? And why did it make me angry? Like an asshole, jealous that everyone’s life seemed to be going right while mine was falling apart with no way to stop it.
“Because you’ve been thrown for a loop, my girl.” My mother’s voice echoed in my ear. “You’ve been thrown for a loop and it’s knocked you down. However, it is up to you to get back on your feet, brush yourself off, and face what lies ahead of you.”
A wide smile stretched across my mouth as a cascade of tears soaked my face. It was moments like this that I desperately wished that my mother was here, to encourage me, to advise me, and most of all, to comfort me when I needed it most.
“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Her favorite saying. Her subtle way of reminding me that no one always got what they wanted. I’d just have to accept what I couldn’t change and find a way to make it work to my advantage.
Drawing in a deep breath, I let it out slowly before I fired up my car, threw it in drive, and slowly exited the parking garage. I couldn’t change the hand that I’d been dealt, but I could change how I reacted to it and how it affected me. As I merged onto the now familiar New York roadscape, I made a vow to prepare myself (and my staff) for the bumpy road ahead and to find a way to ensure that we’d all be okay once it was over.
seven
Lucas
One Year after Rome
“It’sbeenayear,Luc,” my buddy, Ryan, best friend extraordinaire and illustrious professional baseball player, said as I stared into the bottom of my whiskey. “You’re considering dating this new chick, right? You said she seems nice. Why not give it a shot?”
“Because my heart wants what it doesn’t have. I don’t want that woman from work. I don’t want anyone except Ariel. She’s the one I want! She’s the one for me, Ryan!” The words came quickly and precisely. How could I explain to the guy described as the biggest manwhore in New York City, quite possibly New York state, what it was like to still be madly in love with someone that you were certain that you’d never see again. My friend had never tasted the flavor of love. He certainly had never experienced falling so hard and so quickly for someone that was a practical stranger.
Frustrated, Ryan sighed heavily and motioned to the bartender for two additional whiskey neats. An awkward silence fell between us while we waited for the bartender to finish and then serve our drinks. I watched as my best friend since junior high raised his glass to his lips, tasted the amber-colored liquid with the intent to savor it. He surprised me by quickly swallowing the entire contents and setting his glass back down.
“We’ve known each other for more than half of our lives,” Ryan began. “So, you know that I’m not going to blow smoke up your butt or go easy with what I have to say.” Ryan paused momentarily, his eyes targeting mine. “I’m worried about you man. You haven’t been the same since you got back from Rome. Everyone’s noticed. And I mean everyone. What I’m trying to say is that you’ve turned into one of those empty-shell people, dude. You’re in danger of wasting your life, pining over something that’s long gone.” Ryan was blunt, sparing no concern for my feelings. “You’ve been walking around like a zombie for the past year. You rarely smile. I can’t remember the last time that I heard you laugh. You’re snapping at people left and right, and that just isn’t you, man. The Lucas that I know and love would never lose himself in a year-long pity party.”
“I’m not having a pity party, Ryan,” I growled defensively, but my best friend raised his hand, silently telling me that he wasn’t finished. “I’m devastated. My heart’s broken and I’m frightened that I’ll never see her again!”
“Yes, you have. Now, I’m not saying that you don’t have a right to be angry or upset about losing the amazing girl that you met. What I am saying is that you’ve exhausted every lead that you possibly could in trying to find her and each one has come up empty. It’s time to move on. It’s time to say goodbye, to remember her fondly and move on.”
“I can’t move on, asshole!” I snapped as I reached out for my drink and swallowed the entire thing down in one go. “Furthermore, I don’t want to move on. You’ve never felt like this before. All you do is hop from one pussy to another, loving and leaving them before the condom hits the trash can.”
“I’m not into monogamous relationships.” It was Ryan’s turn to go on the defensive. “Most of the women I date understand it’s a one-time, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type of deal.”
“That psycho from Atlanta sure didn’t think so.” I referred to his crazy, bleach-blonde stalker who nearly ended his career after she hit him over the head while pumping gas and tried to kidnap him.
“Which happens. Sometimes you don’t know how psychotic people are until after the fact. However, that doesn’t keep you from jumping back into the proverbial pool. I know this is hard to hear, but I’m worried about you. You’re my best friend and I love you like a brother. I’m scared that you’re never going to recover from this and that our Lucas, the one we all know and love, will never come back.”
I had to admit that what he said held weight. It was true that I hadn’t been myself since I realized that something must have gone wrong. That something must be keeping Ariel and I apart.
“I don’t mean this insensitively,” Ryan said, suddenly interrupting the short train of my thoughts. “But has it ever occurred to you that perhaps what you shared with the girl in Rome wasn’t this grandiose love affair that you’re making it out to be? That it was only a fling?”
“What she and I had was not a fling, Ryan. You’ve never been in love. You have no idea what it feels like, and you certainly don’t have the right to lecture me.”
That was it. I couldn’t sit here and listen to his bullshit anymore. Flagging the bartender down, I pulled my wallet out to settle my tab.
“Don’t tell me that you’re leaving?” Ryan whined. The six-foot-four, tower of muscle actually whined. “The night is still young. Come on, man. Don’t leave. Stay and hang out with me. Maybe we can hit that club down the street and find ourselves something to keep us both warm tonight.”
Without a reply, I threw a handful of twenties down upon the bar. Tossing my best friend my best attempt at a smile, one that looked more like a harsh grimace than a grin, I told him I’d speak to him later once I had a chance to cool down, and walked out of what was once my favorite bar. Instead of calling my driver to come and pick me up, I decided to walk home. The ten-mile trek would do me good, I told myself. It would give me time to clear my head and possibly come up with another plan to find the woman I dreamed of nightly.
Although I knew the odds were stacked against me, especially when she and I were too caught up in our ardor to remember things like addresses, emails, etc., I didn’t care. I gambled without fear, without thinking that I could lose. Only I did lose, and big. As I began my journey, I cursed her again for not following the modern trends and having multiple social media accounts. If she had, I knew for a fact that we’d be together now. Hell, we’d be married now, happily even with the ups and downs. We might even have had a child on the way. A family. Together. Inseparable.
That was how much I loved her. Never in my life had I ever considered getting married or entertained the prospect of fatherhood. It had never interested me, much to the dismay of my mother. All that suddenly changed as I sat across from her that first night, sipping that ridiculously good house wine and lost in the spell she didn’t know she wove. I fell more and more, wanting what I’d once eschewed as I spoke of her beauty. In those precious, tender moments, I envisioned our wedding, simple with just a handful of friends and family, complete with a small reception at a local restaurant. As we spoke under that canopy of lights, warmed by the glow of candlelight, I could hear us say our vows and picture us as a pair of sixty-somethings watching as our grandchildren shouted and ran back and forth across our expansive lawn, under the watchful eye of their parents. Our children.
A groan escaped my lips as the ache from missing her squeezed my chest, leaving me breathless and facing the sharp end of bitterness’s blade. Living without her was like living without air. Without the basic essentials that one needs to survive. I’d tried hard to find her but couldn’t. Sometimes I wondered if I’d dreamed it all. That the entire Roman trip had been one long hallucination and that that flame-haired goddess had been a figment of my imagination. It hadn’t though. Her silver horseshoe necklace, the one that I’d worn around my neck for the last year, the one that I’d swiped while she was asleep, was just one of the few things that I had to remind me that she had been all-too real.
“What am I going to do?” I asked the night air as I approached a set of traffic lights and waited for the light to turn.
“Something bothering you, pal?” A homeless man called out just as I heaved out a weighty sigh, trying desperately to push aside the hopelessness that constantly threatened to consume me.
