by J. P. Bowie
Okay then. I no longer knew where he lived. I contemplated a face-to-face confrontation in his office, but the coldness of his ‘not wishing to take my calls’ made me think he might summon security to escort me from the building should I dare to show up unannounced. There was only so much humiliation a guy could take, after all.
The weeks lengthened into months. For a time it seemed as if I were on autopilot. Get up, go to work, answer when spoken to, go home, stare at the walls while drinking too much Scotch. Eventually, William called me into his office for a ‘chat’.
“Jason…” His expression was one of sympathy mixed with a definite lack of patience. “It’s time for you to get over this.”
“I’m trying,” I mumbled.
“Not hard enough. Look, Jason, I’ve had complaints from…some people…about you not pulling your weight. They’re a bit pissed off with your attitude, which I know is harsh, considering…but this is a place of business, Jason, and we do have a quota to keep up with and… Well, what I’m trying to say, without actually saying it—”
“You’re firing me?” I gaped at him, a bit slack-jawed.
“No, not yet, anyway. I don’t want to, Jason, you know that. I like you, you’re good at what you do, but…”
I sighed, a rush of breath that left me slightly dizzy. I covered my face with my hands. “I’m sorry, William. I’ll do better, I promise.” I didn’t add ‘please don’t fire me’ but I came close. Darren had left me alone to carry the exorbitant rent for the apartment. I’d made a half-assed attempt to find something cheaper, but the last thing I needed was to lose my job. The rent had already punched a giant hole in my savings account.
So pull yourself together, idiot, or join the crowds of the homeless on the streets of San Diego.
I straightened up and met William’s gaze full-on. “Sorry about that. I appreciate your concern, William, and I will endeavor to do better from now on.”
William nodded and gave me a small smile. “Good. And, Jason, I do know how much Darren has hurt you. Just don’t let it ruin your life.”
I returned his smile, pretty sure it was more of a grimace than anything else, but it was the best I could do at that moment.
When I got back to the apartment, I looked up the terms of the lease. I was relieved to see that I could give thirty days’ notice after six months. We’d been there over a year so…time to get off my ass and really look for a cheaper place. I’d miss this address with its beautiful view of the park and easy access to Downtown where I worked, but with the sparse furnishings a constant reminder of Darren’s betrayal, I figured it was best that I find somewhere else.
A month later I was living in a one-bedroom apartment in North Park. I bought a new sofa in a completely different style from the one Darren and I had shared, plus some plants and knick-knacks to brighten the living room up. It was quite a cute place and had off-street parking which my Nissan Altima appreciated.
I might sound as if I was in a good state of mind, but that was far from the truth. Despite the shitty way Darren had treated me, I missed him so much that at times it was like a physical ache in my chest. My heart was broken and I was convinced it could never be healed. Not if I lived to be a hundred years old, which at that time I desperately hoped would never happen. Imagine being one hundred and still nursing a broken heart. Okay, common sense, along with my mom and dad and the few friends I had, told me that before I expired, I’d probably get over this.
Why didn’t I believe them? Months after Darren had left, I still felt as if I were adrift, unfocused, wandering aimlessly through life…oh, but the self-pity went on and on until even I was sick of myself.
William had told me I needed a night out on the town. He’d even offered to accompany me to a gay bar, which was sweet seeing he wasn’t gay. I declined but after a few more weeks of festering and hopelessly longing, I decided maybe that was what I needed. If nothing else, I was getting bored with my empty life of work and watching TV on the new set I’d finally gotten around to buying. I called a friend, Pete Benson, I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Pete, it’s Jason Harrison. How are you?”
Pete laughed. “I couldn’t believe it when your name popped up on my cell. I’m amazed you still had my number.”
“Sorry…yeah, I should’ve called you sooner.”
“Eh, that’s okay. I know what it’s like when you’re in a relationship. His life takes you over kinda. How is Darren?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh…bad breakup?”
“You could say that. Listen, I know this is probably crass of me after all this time, but I wondered if you’d like to hang out, go for a drink sometime, maybe?”
“Sometime, maybe?” He chuckled. “How about tomorrow night? I got nothing going on that can’t be avoided.”
“Tomorrow night’s good.” I smiled. Something I hadn’t done in what seemed like forever.
“Great. Bobby’s Tavern? I remember you used to like it there.”
He remembered? “Sounds good. Seven-thirty? We can grab something to eat there too. Their tacos were good.”
“Still are. Okay, see you tomorrow, Jason. Looking forward to it. We have a lot to catch up on.”
As long as he didn’t want to talk about shithead Darren. But what were the chances he wouldn’t?
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About the Author
J.P. Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim’s Company.
He emigrated to the States and worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. He is currently living with his husband in sunny San Diego, California.
J.P. loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.pride-publishing.com
