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So here we stand. Downstairs on the street, in front of the loft. Jim and I - waiting for our dates.
We've been together all day and are kind of talked out. Jim fidgets with his overnight bag a couple of times. I pretend not to notice it. It's easier that way.
I'm all locked up in this dark place. I don't recognize myself any more. I'm not so far gone that I can't see the obsessive path my brain takes on a regular basis these days. I am a horrible person because I have Rachel and I don't think I want to give her up. But my secret obsessive life is just as important as the woman I'm going to marry. I didn't think I was such a piece of shit.
The sun is setting. It's a gorgeous time of year - a cool spring, not as wet as one might expect in the Pacific Northwest. I take a deep breath, catch a whiff of Jim's soap, his cologne. He's wearing something expensive. A gift from Adam no doubt. Something elegant and pricey and carefully chosen to make Jim feel happy, loved. Just another example of his thoughtfulness. I hate Adam.
My head aches.
Things have reached a fever pitch. In a few weeks all will change between Jim and I forever. There's already no going back. I won't do that to Rachel.
My head won't leave my head alone. It's an endless loop. What are they doing together? What are they saying? What if I told the truth - to everyone - to Jim? To Adam. To Rachel? I play the scenarios out in my head. Every possibility. A computer simulation of my life.
Every day I smile and nod and make appropriate noises to everyone's needs. I am a good cop and a good fianc and a good friend. No one suspects a thing. But I know. I know about the terrible thoughts and sights that crowd my head.
Maybe things will change after May 15th. Maybe this will all be easier and I won't have the oppressive desire to pummel Adam's kind and gentle face every time he comes into my line of sight. Maybe it'll all stop.
I don't believe it will.
I'm taking Rachel to a kosher Chinese restaurant and a movie afterwards. We'll come back to the loft and make love. We'll eat breakfast in bed and decide how to spend the rest of our weekend. We'll talk about the wedding. I love her. I swear to god I do.
Jim's spending the whole weekend at Adam's house, packing it up. While Rachel and I are in Mexico for our honeymoon, Adam will be moving into the loft. It infuriates me. I wish they would wait, wait until I'm dead and gone. Until I'm six feet under ground and I can't see Adam in my place, taking over my role. Filling in the gaps I've left behind.
I'm tied up in these lies, these strategically placed falsehoods that have come to represent who I appear to be. Rachel only knows the highlights, the ones that won't make her doubt that I can be faithful. All the names on the carefully chosen list are female. She's only getting 3/4 of the story. I've convinced myself that's enough truth for the woman I'm going to marry.
I feel Jim move next to me and turn to smile. He makes small talk about a case we're working on. We trade quips in a shorthand created over the past six years. I manage to carry on my end of it though my mind is in knots. I can sense every second that's slipping away from us.when our days together will end not with a "goodnight" as we slip into separate beds - but rather with a hasty wave at the station, dutiful husband and faithful lover, going home to separate worlds.
My stomach reels in concern for what I might do or what I've done. Do I touch him too much in front of Rachel? Do I purposefully stand between he and Adam, staking out my territory so the interloper will know his place? It's got me living in fear. I forget sometimes that my whirling dervish of a mind is not reality. I momentarily pause before speaking, wondering if I've finally broken down and spilled out the whole truth.
I've had enough. Just standing here, waiting, the pitter-patter of words familiar and warm wrapping us in a cozy bubble - it's wearing me down. I feel the seams tugging - I may unravel before this moment is over. I want to tell Jim that I am his for the asking. That Rachel is a fantasy from another life - a nice Jewish girl to give me beautiful children, to give me an allusion of home and security. I want to tell him how wrong I've been, to deny who I am, to shield him from my feelings, to leave him for a woman who only knows the parts of me I've reluctantly granted access to.
It's on the tip of my tongue. I've had enough of being alone. I want to tell someone the whole truth and the only person I trust is the man next to me.
Rachel's car pulls up at that moment.
I stare into the shiny yellow paint of her VW. A split second later I'm smiling and waving, saying my good byes, the have a nice weekend rap flowing from my tongue. Jim's moved to the driver's side, to give Rachel a kiss and a smile, as I slide into the passenger seat. I listen jealously to their banter. Rachel adores Jim - she thinks of him as the perfect older brother. Jim calls Rachel Gorgeous and she blushes.
I've got no place to go. I have to endure this. If I tell the truth and hurt Rachel, Jim will never forgive me. Never.
We all hear a horn sound. Adam's pickup is behind Rachel's car. She honks, waves in the rear view mirror. I'm immobile. I can't lift my hands. I'm too busy watching Jim's face light up like the personification of joy. He's signaling to Adam - one second. Another kiss to Rachel's cheek, a "see you Monday Chief" for me and then he's gone. Bounding towards the truck, sliding into the passenger seat. I watch in the rear view mirror. Rachel's enthused about the movie. The restaurant. She wonders if the flowers she ordered for our reception are worth the money.
My eyes burn. They're kissing. A long kiss. I imagine the sounds of their tongues and lips touching. I imagine it's an obscene sound, a promise of more to come later on. It's hello, how are you love, how was your day, I want to take you to my house and fuck you senseless - I love you. I hate Adam. I hate myself.
Rachel leans over and kisses me on the mouth. Her happy chatter is illuminated in her wide brown eyes. She loves me, deeply. She cried when I asked her to marry me. She's named our children and started calling Naomi "Mom." She's perfect and I don't love her as much as I should. She's marrying a lie.
I smile my fake Perfect Fianc smile. I ask her to tell me about the linens she's picked out at the restaurant. It makes her smile brighter. Jim would never forgive me if I broke her heart.
She spares a glance in the rear view mirror and makes a comment about how wonderful Jim looks, how perfect he and Adam are together. She pats me on the knee as we watch the truck pull around us and the four of us exchange waves. She gives me credit for bringing them back together, after so much time had passed in their lives.
I hate that she's reminded me this is all my fault.
I may as well be lying wired and shut and quiet in my grave. I'm freezing cold. We pull into traffic and I let Rachel fill in the silence with her joy.
A night goes by, blurry and surrealistic. Rachel is still a chatterbox of satisfaction when we lie in my small bed, wrapped around one another like cats trying to stay warm. She's drifting off and I realize here I am again, talking to myself. A T.V blares from another apartment. It's early but I'm tired of pretending and need to shut the evening down. So I listen to Rachel breath into sleep and start the movie in my head.
Oh man.
It's partly fact and partly fiction, liberally sprinkled with my own private perversions and fantasies. I've seen them together, intimately. A lazy Sunday morning at the loft, walking in from a night at Rachel's to find them in the kitchen, bare-chested and sated, cooking breakfast and standing so close I could barely see a sliver of light between them. I've seen them kissing, in the truck, in the doorway, on the balcony, on the sofa. They're not ashamed of their relationship but are only demonstrative in front of a select few - Rachel, Megan, Adam's partner Sam. Me. Lucky me. They trust me.
I heard them making love once. I was home unexpectedly. They were a little bit drunk and very horny. I heard the whispers, heard the rustling of clothes and sheets, heard the rhythmic creaks and muted voices above me. I didn't pretend to be asleep. I just lay there and soaked in every sound.
They trusted me.
I tried to be the man they think I am. I tried to be happy that I inadvertently reunited my best friend with a lover he hadn't seen or spoken to in nearly twenty years, by virtue of an invitation to Jim's birthday party. Just a name in an old phone book, the only person still at the same number, the only face from Jim's past to step into the present. I still have my moments where I try to be glad for them. I listen to their synchronized conversation and easy banter. I see how their shared past and amazingly similar paths in life (military, police work, marriage, divorce) makes them the ideal match.
I don't care. I want Adam to go away. I want Rachel to have never been here. I want my life back to where it was a year ago.
I curl closer to Rachel. I try and remember what they sounded like together. It gets mixed up in memories of Rachel and I from an hour ago. It sounds like a porno flick in my head.
I am a few weeks away from standing under a chuppah with Rachel, vowing my life to her. I am risking everything in the world that matters to me if I speak the truth in my heart. But if I don't.. the buzzing in my head will grow until a roar and I'll end up back at the bottom of that fountain, my lungs full of death and this time, no one will be able to call me back.
I hear their voices, separate and entwined. I hear them saying my names in love and friendship and trust and expectation.
Sometimes this thick confusion grows until I cannot hear it all.
I seem caught in time. I want this moment to be the last - everyone happy and content, everyone believing the lie of me.
My head leaves me behind. It's racing away with sounds of sex and visions of flowers in a temple. My fate is sealed because of who my lies have painted me to be. I close my eyes and slide into sleep. I want to dream of simple days when the number of those haunting this loft was two. Two friends with potential. Two members of a family, keeping each other safe. Simple days when I had all the time in the world to speak the truth.
And I see heaven.
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