He lived next door, but it felt like I’d flown thirteen time zones just to see him. I was emotionally exhausted from lack of sleep and my bloodshot eyes only added to the charm of my equally red nose caused by all the crying and sniffling. As I stood in front of his their house, the final few yards of sidewalk beckoned. I was gonna have to paste a smile on my face and make that dead mans march up to ring that bell and welcome them back.
He and I had been such good friends till he brought his new bimbo wife home. What had started out as another of the usual and uncomplicated business trips for him and the normal “Will you feed the cat again?” duty for me, had ended up as a whirlwind romance and tacky Elvis wedding in Vegas for him and a bottomless pit of depression for me. How was I to know that deep down inside I gave a crap about him? Who would have ever guessed that I would go insane when I heard the news? Saddled with that green monster riding on my back, I had made what I thought to be a proactive plan and initially was going to attempt to do everything in my power, short of killing the bitch, to break up what I thought to be a flaky relationship. I had envisioned elaborate scenarios in my mind. My favorite entertained how I would ring the bell, wrapped in a long and luxurious Mink Coat and when he answered the door looking all cow-towed and pussy-whipped, I would, with a flash and a smile exclaim, “Isn’t this what you Really want?”
Could-a, would-a, should-a. It could-a been me, if I would-a told him how I really felt. I should-a done something sooner but I was either chicken or oblivious to my real feelings for him. I had beat myself up over that, and now I realized it was too late. I was done…toast..alone…destined to be, just what I always ended up being……the neighbor who fed the felines.
Yep, I would welcome them home, much as it pained me. My in-saneness, whispered “He will come around”, and my rational mind, stated matter of fact, “Get over it kid”. Step by step I slowly build momentum and ladened with a heavy heart and a tacky wedding gift, I began the Bataan march. My in-saneness made one last futile comment, ” “Next time, refuse to feed the cat.”
Take it Away, Tuesday:
I’d flown thirteen timezones just to see him.