Lock Step - Love Under Lockdown

Mostly, I enjoyed being on my own and having time to myself instead of constantly going to classes on campus and being surrounded by brown-nosers, class clowns, snooty fraternity and sorority types, and obnoxious professors.

Sometimes it got boring, but usually I had fun relaxing in my room. But just then, my glorious relaxation was interrupted by a knock.

“Hey, Phil,” said Richard. “Got a sec?”

I closed the windows of my browser. I had so many open, I didn’t want to take any chances.

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

“Why don’t we have a chat?” he offered. “Meet me in my study in a minute?”

Study? Oh, no. What is this? Guess he’s trying to be a buddy. Oh, well, best to get it over with it.

“Yeah-yeah, give me a sec. I’ll meet you.”

When I got down into his “study,” which was really just a multi-purpose room anyone in the family could use, he was sitting there with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“C’mon in,” he offered. “Close the door.”

I did and sat down. He slid over a tumbler of whiskey. I raised an eyebrow.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Your mother doesn’t have to know.”

I took a sip. It was smooth stuff, but it burned a little.

“Nice,” I said. “So, what’s on your mind, Richard?”

“Just thought we could have a chat. Man to man,” he offered. “You want a cigar? Go ahead. They’re Cuban.”

I knew this was a ploy just to get on my good side, but I had never really tried a cigar before. Especially not a good one. The Cuban ones were legendary.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, unafraid.

He clipped it for me. I put it in my mouth and he lit the end. It was a strong, robust flavor and it filled my lungs immediately. I coughed.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assured. “Phil, I know this transition probably hasn’t been easy for you. I can’t imagine what you think of me.”

“Does it matter?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ll be out of the house soon. As soon as quarantine is over, and the campus opens back up. You’ll have Mom all to yourself then.”

“Look, how many relationships have you been in?” he asked.

“Two-ish,” I offered, which was still a stretch.

“Well, you got a taste of what it’s like to deal with women. I’ve been where you’re at. Young, looking to impress the ladies— I know that urge. It never really leaves you, but thankfully it levels off as you get older.”

“Please, Richard, spare me,” I sighed. “You were cheating on your first wife with my mother.”

“I know,” he said, looking away, ashamed. “That wasn’t the best way to start things off. But your mother was unhappy with your father. It’s no one’s fault, but it was going to lead to a divorce eventually, right?”

“Maybe.”

“C’mon, I didn’t hypnotize her.”

“You didn’t help.”

“True. Look, I take responsibility for what I did, but I love your mother. I want what’s best for her and you.”

“That ship has sailed,” I pointed out. “Would’ve been best if we were still a family.”

“Granted, but that ship has sailed,” Richard said, repeating my own words back to me. “We get dealt the cards we’re dealt and have to make the best of them. We can be enemies. Like you said, you’re out of here soon. I’d rather be—”

“Don’t say friends,” I begged. “Please don’t.”

“Then whatever. Acquaintances who tolerate each other?” he offered. “When you’re older and you’ve been around, you’ll probably have a better perspective on this. Women are… fickle. They’re work to keep. You keep your wife happy or she leaves.”

“That’s the rule?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“What about the husband? What does he get?”

“Sex,” he said, then laughed.

“Sounds like a shitty deal, Richard.”

“Welcome to life,” he shrugged. “But really. I was just kidding. We have responsibilities in life, but we also get the happiness of companionship and sex, which makes it all worth it. It’s not much better for the wives. They have to keep us happy, too, even if neither spouse likes to admit it about the other.”

I laughed. It was pretty ballsy, the way he was talking. If I told mom half the stuff he said, she’d probably have a fit.

“Shit, Richard. This is getting pretty real.”

“If you don’t have truth, you don’t have much of anything,” he offered. “If I can’t be real with you, you won’t trust me. Not that I expect you to instantly trust me on every subject, but, well, just give me some credit where credit’s due, okay? I’m trying to build a bridge.”

“After you destroyed one between my mom and dad.”

“That wasn’t all me,” he pointed out. “Couldn’t possibly be. You don’t stray from the path for just anyone and for no reason. If you’re being honest, you’d have to admit they were having problems before I came along.”

That was true. They had bickered a lot over the years. My mother wasn’t happy and part of me had always known that. I sighed. Maybe I didn’t want this conversation.