First, she’d told me about her dealer. My wife had a goddamned dealer. He was some young kid in Manhattan—fucking Manhattan—who’d supplied her mostly with cocaine.
Second, she’d told me how she’d gone to some seedy hangouts to get heroin and shoot up.
Lastly, she’d confessed that although she’d told me she’d slept with two men, there may have been more because she couldn’t remember during the times when she’d been so high or had even passed out.
I’d sat there in a daze while she tearfully divulged the sordid goings on in her life that were, until that moment, unknown to me.
When she finished, she begged for my forgiveness but I was at a loss. I’d ultimately stood, telling her, as she cried, that I had to do some thinking and left. I’d met up with friends and played some ball which had helped curb the anger but only a little because I’d laid one guy out who’d been trash talking the entire game.
When I’d called my dad later that afternoon and told him about the new information I’d gotten, he’d still held out hope that we could salvage things, which had pissed me off. I’d asked him if he would’ve stayed with Mom had she done all those things and he hadn’t had an answer. Yeah.
All day, I’d thought more and more about a divorce. Of course, I’d wait until Sonya got better. I wasn’t a totally selfish prick. But the things she’d done, in my eyes anyway, were totally reprehensible and I had no idea if we could recover.
The light in my day had been when Birdie had finally texted that night when I was on my third whiskey. I’d been afraid she’d decided we were finished after I’d stuck my fucking tongue down her throat. But she’d surprised me when she apologized also. I’d figured she’d either chew me out, telling me it was all my fault, and that she never wanted to see me again or she’d push to have a relationship beyond friendship which I didn’t think we were ready for.
She’d done neither and, damn, it’d been a huge turn-on. She wasn’t needy. She hadn’t pushed things. She was just genuine and I liked that.
After we got past everything, we’d talked for hours. I couldn’t get enough of her. I wanted to know everything.
Before hanging up, we agreed to have lunch the next day. She said she’d text where to meet her.
And as I drifted off to sleep, I found I was looking forward to that text a lot.
“Can men and women be just friends?” I asked Paul Sunday around noon.
I haven’t gotten Birdie’s text yet, so I wondered if we’re still on. In the meantime, I made a call because the question I’d just asked my buddy had been eating at me.
“Uh, yeah, I’d say so. I’m friends with a lot of women.”
“And you’ve never wanted to fuck them?”
He laughed. “Didn’t say that. I mean, yeah, there are a few, I guess. Fuck. You mention this shit to Taylor and you’re dead.”
I laughed too. “You know I wouldn’t. But if your Yankees win the next Series, then I might have to spill. Which would mean your secret’s safe.”
“Fuck you.”
I snorted. He’d been a Yankees fan forever, about as long as I’d been a Phillies fan, and he always found a way to bring up the 2009 World Series when his team had defeated mine. As former baseball players ourselves, we knew this shit was sacred, but of course, we never missed a moment to give each other hell if our teams lost.
“So, you’re saying you’d fuck these chicks?” I asked.
“Fuck no. You asked if I ever wanted to fuck them. The answer is yeah. But would I? No.”
“Gotcha.”
“Why?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I’ve met someone.”
“Yeah?”
I explained how Birdie and I had met, told him about her husband then told him the latest of what Sonya had told me.
“Man, that’s fucked up. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was that bad,” he consoled.
“Thanks. I don’t know what to do. I love Sonya, but this shit’s got me fucking rattled. As far as she knows, she could’ve been gang-banged when she was stoned out of her goddamn head and she wouldn’t have known it. If she wasn’t sick, I’d divorce her ass now.”
“Damn. What about when she’s better?”
“I don’t know. Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I stated because I honestly had no answer.
“No one would blame you, Beck, if you did it now or later.”
I sighed. “Yeah, but she’s my wife. I can’t walk out on her now.”
“This other woman? She’s a legitimate option?” he asked.
“She’s fucking beautiful. Smart. Funny. How her idiot husband could cheat on her, I don’t know. Got another woman pregnant but she’s staying married to him until he goes.”
“That’s admirable. He’s got an inoperable brain tumor, you said?”
“Yeah. Guess he wanted to live it up with another woman before he dies. Jesus. I sound like a fucking prick. But she’s great, man. Honestly don’t know how he could do that to her.”
“So you two are just hanging out then. Right? Nothing there?” he inquired.
Damn. He would have to go there. “We, uh, shit. We kissed the other night. It just happened. But we talked about it and we’re good.”
“That changes things, yeah?”
“Am I attracted to her? Yeah. Am I gonna leave Sonya for her? I don’t know.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.” Well, he was just as confused as I was. Great.
“It were me? I’d keep the friendship. Not like you’re tied to this, what’s her name? Birdie? What kinda fuckin’ name is that anyway?”
I chuckled. “Her real name’s Bernadette. Birdie’s a nickname.”
“Gotcha. Well, I’d keep the friendship. She’s gonna need you and vice versa. I mean, if you’ve talked then I don’t see the harm. And if shit doesn’t work out with Sonya, then there you go.”
I frowned. “I’m not keeping her in my back pocket, you know.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean, stay friends. Wait. Does Sonya know about her?”
“No. I doubt it’d be a good idea to say anything to her. Don’t want her to get upset for no reason, you know?”
“Yeah. What if you fall in love with this Birdie?” he questioned.
Now I scowled. “I hadn’t even thought of that. You think I should call shit off with her?”
“I don’t know. It’s nice that you have each other through this. I just don’t want you getting hurt, you know?”
“Fuck. I can handle myself, dude. I’m not sixteen and drooling over the chick.”
“Sure you’re not. You only wanna fuck her brains out,” he said, laughing.
He wasn’t wrong.
“Maybe I should call shit off. Last thing I need is something more to worry about,” I grumbled.
“Look. You like her. There could possibly be something there. Who knows. You’re smart. You’ll figure shit out. And I will say this. I like that you’ve got someone there who gets what you’re going through. And you can give her the same. Be a support system for each other at least.”
“Yeah.” My phone dinged with a text.
Text Message—Sun, Oct 23, 12:23 p.m.
Birdie: Carnegie’s. $30 Reuben. I know, I know. But it’s worth every friggin’ penny. 1 o’clock’ish?
“Thanks, man. I’ll keep you posted. Might come crying to you about shit like you did to me last year when the Astros killed your dream.” I grinned knowing that’d piss him off.
“You know, I fucking hate your dumb ass sometimes.”
I barked out a laugh. “Good to know.”
“At least my Yanks have gotten close. Where the fuck are your Phillies?”
“Yeah. I know. Shutting the fuck up now.”
He laughed. “Smart man. Okay, stay in touch, man.”
“Will do.”
We hung up and I texted Birdie back.
Text Message—Sun, Oct 23, 12:29 p.m.
Me: You know $30 could probably
feed an entire third world country for a month, right?
Birdie: LMAO! Wait. Are you calling me fat? ;)
Damn, I liked her.
Me: Never. See you at 1 ;)
Chapter 21—Birdie
Monday morning, Mason called me at work.
“Hey. I just wanted you to know my surgery is scheduled for November eighth. That’s two weeks from Tuesday,” he said.
“I know. I’ve taken off that day and the rest of the week.”
“Oh. I didn’t know if you remembered.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course, I remembered. “I need to ask if Maci’s gonna be there.”
“I can tell her not to be if you want.”
Mason had moved all his things out and I hadn’t seen him since last Friday. It’d been strange not seeing his things around the apartment, just like sleeping in our bed alone had taken some getting used to but it was all getting better. God. Sometimes I couldn’t believe this was my life. But it was, and I needed to get used to it.
I sighed. “Look, if you want her there, she can be there. I just want to be prepared.”
“I haven’t talked to her about it. I’m, uh, living with my parents.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Hey. I was allowed to be a little snarky.
I heard him sigh. “She wants to get married and I told her no.”
“Mason, you do what you feel is right. If you want a divorce, I’ll give you one. But she does know it takes a while for them to go through, right?” I teared up thinking he probably wouldn’t even be around when our divorce became final.
“Yeah,” he answered quietly, thinking the same as I had, I was sure.
“I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me know,” I presented.
This being mature and acting like an adult thing was rough. But I actually was proud of myself for handling things the way I had. It still hurt, all of it, but it was hurting less and less as the days went by.
“I,” I heard him choke out. “I’m scared, Birdie.”
This choked me up too. It hurt when I swallowed before I asked him to hang on. Getting up, I left my desk and headed toward the stairwell. Once there, I answered, “I’m scared too, Mase.” I allowed the tears to openly run down my face then. In a matter of a couple of weeks, I could be losing my husband and my once best friend.
“I miss you,” he said shakily.
“I miss you too. I miss what we had.”
“I’m sorry…”
I nodded. “Me too.”
“If I could go back and change things, I would. You know that, right?”
I let out a sobby chuckle then sniffed. “Yeah. I know.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking, Birdie. Temporary insanity maybe.”
I sat down on the step. “Maybe. I just want you to be happy.”
“That’s all I want for you too. And I screwed that shit up, didn’t I? I was selfish. I know that now.” I heard him blow out a breath. “I fucked up.”
“We all do,” I offered. I didn’t need to make him feel worse than he already did. As I dried my eyes with my fingertips, I let out a chuckle.
“What?” he asked.
“Seems I’m always crying in stairwells about you.”
“When did you cry in another stairwell?”
“The day we met with Dr. Isaac. When I blew up. I went to the stairwell and cried.”
“I didn’t know.”
I wondered if I should tell him about meeting Beck there but decided against it. There was enough going on as it was.
“Yeah.” I sniffled. “You’re gonna be okay, Mase.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah. You will. You have a lot of people around you who love you. And you’re gonna be a dad!” Again, this was only semi-good news since he more than likely wouldn’t be around for the birth of his only child, the thought of which broke my heart. “When’s your next appointment?”
“I went Friday after we talked. Radiation therapy. You’d like it because I’m having to wear a fucking beanie now.”
I sobbed out a chuckle. “I always loved you in beanies. You looked hot.”
“Well, you’d love me now although I’m sure you hate me,” he said sadly.
My husband. How could I hate him for wanting to live before he died? “No. I don’t hate you. I’ll always love you, Mase. You know that.”
“I’ll…” he started, his voice raspy. “I’ll always love you too, Birdie.”
We hung up and I took a deep breath, collecting myself before heading back to my desk. I somewhat believed things happened for a reason but I wasn’t sure about our situation yet. Maybe Mason and I were supposed to grow from this. Maybe I was supposed to see that there were different kinds of love. I didn’t know. What I did know was that I’d found it in me to forgive him.
Now I just had to help him forgive himself.
Text Message—Mon, Oct 24, 3:33 p.m.
Me: You wanna come to my place for dinner tonight?
I’d thought about how to word that correctly and that was all I could come up with.
Text Message—Mon, Oct 24, 3:35 p.m.
Mason: Sure. What time?
Me: 7?
Mason: Sounds good. Need me to bring anything?
Here’s where it got tricky.
Me: Maci
Mason: Really?
Me: Yes
Mason: You’re sure?
Me: Yes, I’m sure
Mason: Okay. We’ll see you then
I knew it sounded crazy but I really needed him to know I was okay with things. I’d called my mom and she’d helped me decide. I was nervous, but I knew this would help make things better.
I hoped.
Chapter 22—Beck
I’d texted Birdie Monday afternoon to see if she wanted to have dinner, but she’d told me she was having her husband and his pregnant girlfriend over.
At first I’d been angry. Not at her but at him for putting her in that position. But she’d assured me it was for the best, so all I could do was support her decision.
I then told her to call me after they left.
She’d laughed and said okay, but I couldn’t help but be worried about her. I mean, what the fuck? Anyway, while I waited for her call, I went by the hospital to take Sonya a few things she’d called and asked me to bring. I’d stayed for a couple hours—strained hours, I should say—before coming home. I say strained because things weren’t great between us. I was still pissed about the latest things she’d told me and I wasn’t sure how to move on from any of it.
Gina had gone home for a couple weeks so I was making sure to stay longer at the hospital, but when you’re angry at the person you’re visiting, it doesn’t make for great conversation.
Birdie called just before ten.
“Well, that wasn’t as painful as I thought it’d be,” she declared with a giggle. I could tell she was a little tipsy, so alcohol must’ve been on the menu.
“How much have you had to drink?”
She laughed. “Some.”
“But it went okay?” I speculated.
“Not too bad. Maci actually is very nice.”
Damn. This woman just kept on blowing my mind.
“You liked her,” I stated.
“Yeah, I did. It’s obvious she’s head over heels for Mason, so that’s good.”
I was on high alert listening for any hint of jealousy but didn’t sense any in her response. “So you’re good with it all then?”
“I think I am. I know it’s a weird situation but I’m glad we met. This way things won’t be awkward, you know?”
“You’re amazing, Birdie,” I expressed, not hiding the awe in my voice.
She giggled again. “I wouldn’t go that far. The thought of putting stool softener in her pasta did cross my mind for just a split second.”
I snorted out a laugh. “There’s my girl.”
“Beck… Oh, dang. My friend Jaden’s calling.”
“I’ll let you go. I’m glad it we
nt well.”
“Me too. Thanks, Beck. Bye,” she said and hung up.
Twenty minutes later, I was lying there wondering in what direction my life would go when I got a text.
Text Message—Mon, Oct 24, 10:32 p.m.
Birdie: Hey
Text Message—Mon, Oct 24, 10:32 p.m.
Me: Everything okay?
Birdie: Yeah. She was just checking on me
Me: Good
Birdie: I didn’t wake you, did I?
Me: No. Just lying here thinking
Birdie: Ahhh…thinking…my favorite pastime
Me: Yeah. It’s fun, isn’t it?
Birdie: Tons. Things just feel weird here now…so…quiet
Me: I understand.
Birdie: I sound like a whiner but I guess I’m feeling a little lonely right now
Me: If I were there, you wouldn’t feel that way ;)
Birdie: No, I wouldn’t ;)
Me: I’d hold you in my arms until you fell asleep
Yeah. I went there. But it was innocent. No harm, no foul, right?
Birdie: Oh, THEN you’d let me go? Lol
Me: lol no. I’d hold you all night if you wanted me to ;)
Birdie: That sounds nice…
Me: It does…
Birdie: If I woke up, I’d turn…and kiss you for being so sweet to me
Fuck. Now was she really taking it there? I’d sexted before, of course taking the lead, but I wasn’t sure what to do here. So, not wanting to do something wrong, I figured I’d just let her have the control, although I knew it’d be hard to do.
Me: I’d wrap my arms around you as we kissed…
Birdie: You make me feel safe…
Damn if that didn’t make me happy that she felt that way.
Me: If I were there, I’d kiss your forehead and tell you everything was gonna be okay…
Birdie: I’d love that…if I were there, I’d kiss your throat and thank you for making me feel safe…
Me: I’m glad I make you feel that way
Birdie: Then I’d rub my body against yours to show you how appreciative I was ;)
Me: Mmm
Hey, when in doubt, just groan. Jesus.
Birdie: I’d get you hard, Beck…
Fuck.
Me: I know you would…
Birdie: I’d slip my hand inside your WAIT what do you wear to bed?
Thursdays (The Wait Book 1) Page 10
