Page 73 of Dirty Little Secret, Baby
And again, I drowned the question with a swig from the bottle.
It was pure chance that Troy showed up on my doorstep last night. You'd think he could smell my misery, but the truth is we'd had plans for a while that I'd simply forgotten about. Just like I wanted to forget everything around me.
Our plans to see the New York Knicks play from front-row seats fell through. I wasn't in the mood. Instead, I sat on the couch in sweatpants, offered Troy a beer, and looked for a spot for it on the coffee table among the many empty bottles.
"Man, oh man. You've really got it bad," Troy said after we'd clinked our second beers and I'd told him everything.
"Well, how would you feel if you suddenly found out you were a father?" I asked. Troy just gave me a sideways glance, then it occurred to my half-foggy brain that things with him and his Monica had been no less turbulent. It just felt like a lifetime ago. I can't even remember what he was like without a wife and child. Monica and TJ are just a part of him, like blossoms in spring, like chocolate on... Good God, what kind of crap was I thinking!
"Okay, I know. But this is different. Why did she do that? Hide the baby from me?" I began.
"I think she had her reasons. You weren't exactly without fault either, if I understood correctly, right?"
"But that's different. A baby, that's..." I interjected, but Troy cut me off.
"I'll say it again: you've got it bad. This right here is heartbreak, buddy," he said and took a swig from his bottle.
"You mean..." I said, trying to understand.
"I mean, I've never seen you this messed up," he said, gesturing to the coffee table full of empty bottles. "Women have always been more of a commodity to you. An object. But this Beth and her child... I think you love them."
"Love," I mumbled quietly, gazing past Troy into the void. Could he be right? There was some truth to the fact that I usually didn't care about women. But with Beth, it was different. It had always been different. Since our first encounter. And the fact that wehad a child and she hid it from me... I don't think I'd ever felt such pain before.
"Is something dawning on you?" Troy asked with a raised eyebrow and took another sip.
I was about to take a drink myself, but I paused and set the bottle aside. "I have to go to her. I have to tell her everything. Tell her about my assistant Eric, who pulled this shit with the building and the eviction and..."
"Alex, it's eleven p.m. and, if I may say so: have you looked in the mirror lately?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"You've got dark circles under your eyes, a stained T-shirt, and you reek like a bottle of booze. I think it's great that you want to go to her, but how about you do it sober? Tomorrow morning. Go to bed, sleep it off, and please, for the love of God, take a shower. And after that, tell her how you feel!"
******
That's exactly my plan for today. Freshly showered and with two double espressos in me, I feel like a new man. I also cleaned up the mess in the living room so my housekeeper doesn't run away screaming, and put on some fresh clothes.
All of that took quite a while, and it's already past noon. That's mainly because of the little surprise I wanted to arrange for Beth. A kind of proof of how serious I am. The idea came to me spontaneously this morning, and the corresponding envelope with the confirmation is on my passenger seat as I drive to the flower shop whose owner and her child mean everything to me. I go over what I want to say to her in my head again and feel my heart pounding in my throat.
I had always interpreted love as something silly, cheesy. But the fact that the mere thought of failing at this takes my breath away is neither cheesy nor silly. This is for all the marbles, and I'm scared as hell of losing her.
I park not far from the entrance, grab the envelope, stick it in the inside pocket of my jacket, get out, and with every step toward the door, my tension grows. After taking another deep breath, I open the door.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," a female, dismissive voice that isn't Beth's rings out. I look at the counter and see her friend Veronica, who's glaring at me while packing something into a cardboard box. That's when I notice that there are boxes everywhere.
"Can I... can I talk to Beth? Is she here?" I ask, walking toward her and gesturing toward the stairs.
"You're the last person I'd tell. And you know what?" she asks, glaring at me. "I'd love nothing more than to punch you in the face."
"I understand some things didn't go well. But I'm here to clear everything up. I really am."
"Pah," Veronica just scoffs and waves me off. "You think your words can change anything now, after you sent your assistant like a coward to finish Beth off?"
I don't understand a word she's saying. I give her a questioning look, searching for an explanation.
"Don't play dumb now," she yells and slaps a piece of paper on the counter. "He dropped this off—this morning." I scan the lines and feel hot and cold at the same time.
This is my fault. How could I have been so stupid, firing him and then retreating into my shell to get drunk like a sulking teenager? I should have known he'd run to Jake and they'd cook something up. But I never thought they would take it out on Beth like this and get her thrown out.
