I'm Scott Malkinson

30- Something Missing

27 years later

    Clyde and Jade had gotten into another fight. That's all they did anymore, fight, argue, shout, rinse and repeat. His life feels like a broken record, stuck in the same spot, playing the same old bullshit over and over again.

    Any little thing could set her off, leaving the toilet seat up, missing a phone call while he was working, or even forgetting her sister's birthday. Seriously, he only saw Jade's sister like twice a year, why would he commit her birthday to memory? It wasn't like he'd forgotten his wife's birthday, or his son's, but his sister in law? Why did it even matter?

    He sits at the bar counter in Zest, a local bar and grill run by Stan Broflovski. They were old friends, and Stan was nice enough to give him a 10% discount whenever he came in. Seeing as alcohol was freaking expensive, the discount was pretty appealing in getting Clyde to come in often.

    "Can I get another?" Clyde asks, pushing his empty glass towards Stan.

    "Seriously? That'll be your fourth one tonight dude," Stan replies, raising an eyebrow at him.

    Stan was looking out for him, Clyde knew that. Stan's a recovering alcoholic himself, and had been trying to get him into an AA meeting for years, and for years Clyde had been insisting he didn't need it.

    "Last one, I promise," he tells Stan.

    "Alright, I'm holding you to that," Stan replies firmly. "After this one you're cut off," he tells Clyde as he opens a new bottle and pours it into Clyde's glass.

    "Jade man," Clyde starts. His speech is a bit slurred after his alcohol intake. "I swear to god she's like batshit fucking insane. Last week she threw all my shit onto the front lawn and told me she wanted me out of the house, then as I'm packing it all in the car she comes out and starts apologizing and begging me to stay. I don't know why I can't just end it. I keep cracking and accepting her bullshit apologies and then sleeping with her again. And then in the morning I feel too bad to leave because I don't want to be the dick that walks out on a woman right after having sex with her."

    "Yeah man, she's manipulating you. That's what she does," Stan tells him, and Clyde is reminded of how Stan and Jade had actually gone out in high school.

    Part of him wishes he'd heeded Stan's warning when he'd first started going out with Jade, but he'd been far too hard-headed to take his warnings seriously. Clyde had stubbornly believed that things would be different for him. That probably made him an idiot.

    Other times he was thankful he hadn't listened to Stan. His relationship with Jade, though chaotic and at times borderline unbearable, had given him his sons. He wouldn't trade Griffin and Fletcher for the world regardless of how much their mother made him hate his life, not that he could really fully blame her for that. Clyde had felt something missing from his life long before starting his tumultuous relationship with Jade, before watching Scott walk out of his life and leave him behind for Sophie even. Clyde had felt something missing long before that.

    Maybe that's why he had been so drawn to Scott in the first place, he'd sensed the same missingness in him. Clyde had been foolish enough to believe that they could help to complete each other, but instead Scott had just ripped a new hole in the very fabric of Clyde's being, causing that sense of missingness to double, maybe even triple in no time at all. And as time moved on the hole became ever so slightly larger until Clyde was sure that more of him was missing than what he still had.

    Across the restaurant the Tucker family sat in a booth, talking, eating, enjoying their time together as a family. Clyde couldn't remember the last time that he and Jade and the kids had managed to successfully get together for a fun family outing. Usually they ended in her screaming at him for something he'd unknowingly done to piss her off, other times she'd shun him, refusing to speak to him directly, forcing their eldest son, Griffin, to serve as a middleman to their conflict.

    Truthfully, Clyde had been a bit jealous of Craig since they were teens, not because of his home life or the stuff he had, but because of his ability to rekindle things with Tweek after totally ditching him and identifying as straight for three years. They were married now, and seemed happier than ever. Sometimes late at night Clyde would wonder why Craig deserved that and he didn't.

    Stan followed his gaze to the Tucker's table. "They're here celebrating Tweek's birthday," he mentioned. "You want to go embarrass the hell out of them?" There's a mischievous glint in Stan's eyes as he suggests this, he and Craig have always been the kind of friends that could be mistaken as enemies if one didn't look closely enough. They'd jump at any opportunity to piss each other off, though at the end of the day it was all in good fun.

    "Uh yeah dude, obviously."

    Stan turns to his son Matt, who had just finished running food out to another table. "Hey kiddo, round everyone up for a birthday song."

    About thirty seconds later Clyde's drunkenly stumbling over to Tweek and Craig's table with nearly the entire wait staff of Zest, clapping loudly as they approached. In this state of intoxication he's having a bit of trouble keeping in time with everyone else, his claps falling at least a half beat behind the rest of the group. They reach the table and begin singing happy birthday, and Clyde joins them, totally off key. That's the best part of singing happy birthday though, nobody is expected to be good at it, singing it poorly is totally acceptable and in some cases, even better.

    Tweek nearly jumps from his seat in surprise and Craig scowls at them; the sight of it brings Clyde a bit of joy. It wasn't until he sees their son Cal, shrinking down into the booth covering his ears that Clyde starts to feel bad about it. Shit, he'd forgotten the kid had sensory issues. Craig did too, but he was a grown man and Clyde didn't feel bad about fucking with him, but setting off his fifteen year old son, yeah that makes him feel like a massive dick.

    Stan places a slice of apple pie down onto the table in front of Tweek as the crowd dissipates. "Happy birthday dude," he tells him with a mischievous grin.

    "Jesus Stan, did you have to make a whole scene," Tweek asks, twitching and nervously fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. Beside him, Cal repositions himself in his seat, removing his hands from his ears. His brown eyes bore right into them as he glares daggers at Stan and Clyde. The kid had gotten Craig's attitude, that was for sure.

    As the Tucker family expressed their discontent with the scene Stan had made, Clyde's eyes wandered across the restaurant, falling on another family enjoying their meal. Scott and Sophie sat with their three kids, the five of them smiling and speaking in sign language as they ate.

    Clyde has no idea what they're saying, but he's hit with the whisper of a memory, of Scott trying to teach him the ASL alphabet, manually correcting his finger placement as he signed letters incorrectly. Clyde had found himself doing it wrong on purpose just to feel Scott's hands brush against his, gently moving his fingers to the correct position. How pathetic.

    "A little warning would be nice next time," Craig tells Stan, his voice full of annoyance. Then he turns to Clyde. "And what's with you, you look like shit."

    Thinking of Scott, seeing him happily living his life, had stirred up some unpleasant feelings in Clyde. Jealousy mainly, but also regret. It starts to make him feel sick. "I feel like shit," he responds, turning around and rushing to the bathroom. It's a clumsy action, and he nearly trips over his own feet several times as he performs it.

    He locks himself in a stall and finds himself heaving over the toilet, but nothing comes up. He doesn't force it to, he's done it before but not since his twenties when he was stressed about his marine corps weigh ins. Instead he sinks down to the ground, too drunk and depressed to care about how filthy the floor of a public men's room must be. He rests his back on the wall of the stall, burying his head in his knees as he holds back tears.

    He hates that after damn near thirty years, seeing Scott and his perfect family still hurts him so much. His heart still aches for a doomed romance of his early teens. He wants the aching to just stop already.

    The door to the bathroom opens and footsteps head towards his stall. There's a light knock on the door. "Hey man," Stan says. "I called you a handicar. Try to get home and get some rest. You need it."

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Back on my Scyde shit again, expect more chapters coming soon