An Answer: A Death

Chapter One

Chapter One

 “I told her,” said Garrett.

Aaron set his bottle down sharply, “Geez!”

Garrett nodded.

That was it. The day had come. For months they’d hardly talked about anything else but Garrett, Summer, Neva and the rapidly blossoming love triangle.

But that was all talk—at least, that was what Aaron had thought.

It was all too weird. What could Aaron say to his friend? What did you say at times like this?

“Geez!” said Aaron; taking a drink from his bottle of beer, “a little warning next time?” The crisp liquid ran down his throat, soothing his shocked nerves and rinsing the shock off his face. In its place concern reared up. What was the world coming to? Garrett had always been the more stable of the two. He was reliable—steady. Garrett had a good house, worked hard and drank little.

Now, seated near the bar, he was a mess. Garrett’s elbows were rested on the dark table top, supporting long arms that worked frustrated fingers into his hair. The darkness of his short locks and the crumpled folds of skin that clung to his eyes made him look pale and tired. It pained Aaron to see him like this. “How did Neva take it?”

Garrett reached for his beer and took a long swallow, “Bad.” His wife’s uncontrolled sobs assaulted his conscious. In his mind’s eye he could no longer see the articulate, independent woman he had met and fallen so madly in love with. All he was left with was the weeping, desperate shell who, hours before, had clung to him and begged him not to go.

Garrett needed a drink.

“And what about Summer?”

Garrett looked up, his glass hovering near his mouth, “What about her?”

Aaron shot him an insinuating glance that fondled and encircled Garrett’s stomach, “Does Neva know?”

“For Pete’s sake!” Garrett threw down his beer glass. A little of the beer sloshed over the side of the glass, and ran to meet the table, forming a small, urine-coloured puddle on the table top. “I’m not completely heartless,” he said, folding his arms, but he himself didn’t seem too convinced.

The memory of two warm, brown eyes melted into vision. He’d woken up to those eyes for over eighteen years, but this time they weren’t bold, or self-confident, they weren’t self-assured.

They held within them a sort of pitiful begging that grew more and more and more desperate—more and more hysteric—with each passing second. Once again Garrett was able to feel the pound of clenched fists against his chest. The fists were clean and soft, with small, neat fingernails. 

Cupping his glass in his large hands, Garrett focused on his beer. “I don’t know, Aaron. Things just aren’t the same.” Garrett wiped the spilt beer from the sides of the glass with his index finger. “I don’t want to hurt her it’s just, when I’m with Neva well—” His eyes swam absently over the young men playing pool in front of them, fishing for words. After a while he caught something, reeled it in and looked Aaron square in the eyes. Somewhat jovially he said, “Well, it’s Neva!” and the two men laughed.

What followed next was an easy silence. Aaron sipped his beer patiently, happy to let his friend to drift in his thoughts, and Garrett continued searching for answers that lay in his beer. Past experiences had taught Aaron that emotional conversations were not his forte.

For a while everything was okay, but soon guilt and happiness began to fight for control over Garrett’s face. The half-smile lost and it slipped away, leaving a deeper worry and a need for self-validation. “But when I’m with Summer,” his eyes begged Aaron for help, “with Summer—she—it’s—” To Garrett’s disappointment, the words floundered and died in the air and he settled with looking forlornly at the young men playing pool.

The young man in the not-so-crisp, white shirt sent the cue ball across the green and into a red ball. It lunged forward, edging closer and closer to the pocket, and slowed down centimetres from the edge. The man’s russet headed opponent smiled cockily and circled the table.

“How am I supposed to tell Morgan?”

Aaron looked away from the pool. Garrett was pressing restless fingers against his face. “Don’tworry about it. Neva will tell her,” said Aaron patting Garrett on the back, “It’s better that way.”

Garrett didn’t seem to hear, “Maybe, this was a bad idea. I could wait—just until Morgan’s done with school, that way she’ll be older and—”

“Garrett, don’t do this to yourself,” Aaron sighed, “look, you haven’t been happy with Neva for ages. You’ve told her. It’s done. You can’t go back now. Get on with your life—leave the kid to your wife; that’s what women do. Focus on Summer; the two of you have a bright future ahead of you. Don’t waste time moping.”

It was bad enough that he meant it, but what came next was almost definitely worse.

Garrett slipped off his wedding ring and examined the simple gold band. It felt light in his hands; it felt light to him. He turned it over in his hands once more and then slipped it into the pocket of his shirt.

And just like that two lives were broken.