“You want to hear something funny?” I ask, as we walk, eating our slices.
Seb cuts a look to Dash. “Why do I have a feeling it’s not going to be haha-funny?”
“I thought she might be the one,” I announce bitterly. “It’s way too fast—I know that; don’t say it. But there was just this feeling… like, ‘Oh, there she is.’ Like, sometimes, I’d see her, and think: I will never, ever get tired of talking to her. I always want to hear her opinion because I can never guess. And I will never get tired of looking at her. Every expression on her face, I just… I thought it could be decades, and I’d still be trying to get the nose-crinkle laugh. Know what I mean?”
There’s a stretch of silence, and I know I just killed the vibe here, but I’m beyond caring. I’m just another drunk guy in Manhattan, staggering home with pizza and ranting about his heartbreak.
“Shit, man,” Seb mutters. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Dash says, quietly. “I know that one.”
“Okay,” Seb says, considering my big pronouncement. “You feel pretty serious about her.”
“Idid,” I correct. “Before she was a liar. Except she was always a liar.”
“Did you give her a chance to explain?” Dash asks.
“Explain what?” I ask. “I could maybe live with her starting the job under false pretenses. But continuing to lie? I mean, we were sleeping together—I was falling inlovewith her—and I didn’t even know who the hell she was!”
Dash pauses. “Yeah… But…”
“You’ve really got a ‘but’ for me?” I challenge, annoyed.
“But,” Dash continues. “Isn’t it possible that she didn’t see any of that coming either. And she just didn’t want to risk ruining it?”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I grumble, “You know I hate liars. But apparently, I have a knack for attracting them.”
“Yup,” Seb tells Dash, like I’m not even here. “He’s into the self-pitying stage of drunkenness.”
“Happens every time.”
Seb and Dash steer me back to my apartment lobby.
“Mikey!” I say, loudly greeting my doorman. “How ya doin’?”
“Ah,” he says, taking us in. “Fun night, I see.”
“Not exactly.” I stumble towards the elevator. “Hey, Mike?” I call back. “When did you know Cathy was the one?”
“Tequila,” Seb sighs. “It’s always the tequila.”
Mikey considers this for only a moment. They’ve been married for over twenty years. Three kids. Happy. “Early on, my friend. Just knew. Clicked into place like a lock.”
“Ugh,” I grumble.
“Sorry about our boy here,” Dash tells Mikey, shoving me gently into the elevator.
“Quite all right. This about the pretty brunette I met the other night?” Mikey asks. “Shame. Liked her.”
“Me too, Mikey,” I call. “But she was a con artist. A trickster. Through and through.”
“Oh boy, this one is going to hurt you in the morning,” Seb warns, as I jam the “close” button. “Get at least one glass of water and probably a sandwich, too. That’s professional advice.”
“I’ll do what I want,” I call back, belligerent.
“Right, because you want to be a miserable bastard, going home alone.”
The doors slide shut on that parting word.