Never Say Forever

I jot down the name of the bar his daughter says Fee will be working in next week and close my laptop before sitting back in my seat.

Pretty bar tenders attract all kinds of assholes.

Maybe I’ll add myself to that list.

“What do you want?” I settle a little deeper into my chair, steepling my fingers under my chin.

“Well first, I guess I want you to stop with that cold superior fucking look. That shit doesn’t wash with me.”

“Tucker, I don’t have time for this.”

“Brother, the way I see it, you got nothing but time.”

“And you discern that how?” Screw superior looks; how about a superior tone, asshole?

“You’re not answering your phone, your emails, and your personal assistant out there has been giving me the run-around for days.”

“Not nearly well enough,” I retort, gesturing to his presence with a flick of my hand.

“You look like shit, Hayes.”

“Is that what you’ve been trying to get hold of me for?”

“Actually, if shit took a shit, it would look like you.” Ignoring me, he drops into the chair on the other side of my desk. “I’m guessing by your sorry assed expression that the thing with the girl fell through.”

I don’t answer. I’m pretty sure I don’t move.

“You know if you tap that finger any harder, the fucker will snap off,” he asserts with a smirk.

I curl my hand into a first.

“If there’s a point to you being here, I’d love to hear it. You know, right before you leave.”

“I’ve been worried about you.”

“I don’t know why. We can go weeks without speaking.”

“Days, asshole. And only when you’re travelling. Which you’re clearly not,” he adds, suddenly pissy.

“Spit it the fuck out, whatever it is you feel like you need to say.”

“That look you’re wearing? I know it. And I know the feeling behind it. She’s gone, right? The love of your life, whoever she is, because you didn’t think to introduce her to me. The person who isn’t supposed to forsake you, forsook.”

“Did someone buy you a dictionary?”

“Let me put it to you like that Hallmark card you think I should write.” He holds out his hands as though envisaging his words up in neon lights. “This. Too. Will. Pass.” Lowering his arms again, the asshole adds nothing else. Not a smile of encouragement. Not a look of sympathy. Nothing.

I fold my arms across my chest. “I thank you for your concern, but I’d thank you more sincerely if you’d leave.”

“I forgot to mention that the reason you look like you do is because it passes like a motherfucking kidney stone.”

If you’ve been deployed to a desert theatre, you know first-hand that kidney stones are no joke. But that’s not why I don’t feel like laughing.

“Car, you’ve seen what love can do when it goes wrong. I thought that’s why you stuck to the auctions and shit. Because you’d seen what love did to me and the others.”

“I’ve never explained my reasoning behind the auctions. Don’t ask me to do it now.”

“I’m not asking. I just figured you were the smartest out of all of us. But I guess even the smart ones make mistakes.”

I couldn’t even begin to explain the mistakes I’ve made. I’m not sure I could explain them to myself.

“Can you get her back?”

I would walk over hot coals, tear down the fucking world to make it so.

I need to find a way of explaining the unexplainable. To rationalise my actions to a woman who, a few days ago looked at me like I hung the stars and the moon just for her entertainment. Now all I see when she looks at me is pity and shame.

“I guess that was a no.” I raise my head. For a moment I’d forgotten Tucker was in the room. A blessed moment as it happens, as the asshole carries on. “Sometimes it’s for the best. If you’re already seeing cracks in a relationship that’s only a few weeks old, it doesn’t exactly—”

“Okay, Dr Phil. Say what you need to then fuck off.” Leave me to sort out my own problems. Because there has to be a solution. Some way out of this.

“At least Dr Phil’s patients acknowledge their problem.”

“Dr Phil’s patients also invite his assistance,” I retort meaningfully, my patience wearing paper thin.

“Fuck it. I just want to say that what you’re feeling right now seems like it’s never going to go away. That it’ll never get better. Like it’s the biggest thing in the world and that you’ll never feel joy again.”

“Tucker—”

“I’m just here to say you’ll get through it.” His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “And if you try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about, then I’m gonna take you outside and administer the ass kicking of your life. Because friendship goes both ways.”

I pause then. In his own way he’s trying to help.