Bloody Mary

A WonderFul Guy

*** Two Days Later ***

  You pushed the salad around the plate miserably. In the next room, your coworkers laughed about god knows what.

  "Are you ever actually gonna eat that?" Sam called from behind you. You set your fork down, staring at the lettuce impassively. She sat next to you, resting her head in her chin and squinting her eyes. "Okay, out with it. What's wrong. You look like the poster child for sleep deprivation."

  You laughed bitterly, scrubbing at your eyes, the struggle to hold them open draining your non-existent energy. "I've just had a rough few days, that's all."

  "No shit?" She raised an eyebrow at you, wordlessly pressing you to go on.

  "I met a guy."

  "Oh well there's your first mistake." You glared at her, and she held up her hands in surrender. "Ok, I'm done, I promise. You have my undivided attention."

  You weren't sure how to start, or how much to tell her. "He's a wonderful guy. Sweet, quiet, shy, understanding, attractive, and just... he has a good heart. He's had a hard life and he's been struggling, but all this time I thought things were getting better. Now it looks like he's been keeping things from me." Pausing, you hesitate before correcting yourself. "Actually, I don't believe he's keeping things from me. Not on purpose, at least. But all the progress I thought he'd made...I'm afraid none of it was real, that he's been falling apart this entire time and hiding it. Maybe he just didn't want me to worry about him, but it feels... bigger than that. And now he's gone, and I'm worried that he's going through... I don't know, a regression of some sort?"

  Sam's expression had turned serious, and she hummed in thought. "That's difficult." She paused, dropping her usual sarcasm for a moment of sincerity. "I understand why that would be frustrating. It's partly why I haven't bothered dating for so long, to be honest. The idea of sharing my life, being intimate with someone. I mean, how do you ever know if you really, truly know someone? They could have some double life that you aren't aware of, all because you're blinded by the fucking love bubble. You could be together for years, and you still won't know everything about them. You can't read their mind, or know what they're doing when you're not around. It fucking scares me."

  Her words chilled you to your core, voicing the demons that had plagued your mind for days. How much did you really know about Arthur? The voice inside your head spoke up to torment you some more. Dumb bitch, you met a guy and within two weeks invited him into your life and let your guard down.

  Sam laughed, pulling you from your thoughts. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You shouldn't listen to me anyway, I've always been a pessimistic asshole." Fear must have been written all over your face because she gently squeezed your shoulder. "Hey, don't listen to me. Clearly you really care about the guy if it's bothering you this much. And chances are really good that I'm completely wrong and projecting my own fucked-up opinions onto the situation. You want my advice? Talk to him. Ask him about it, be honest with him and hopefully he'll be honest in return." She shrugs. "They can't all be assholes, right? Maybe you found one of the good ones. Don't throw something with potential away, just because you get stuck in your own head without knowing the whole story. Otherwise you'll end up like me, and that's the last thing you want." She winked, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

  "Gee, you should write poetry."

  "That's what I've always thought!" You both laughed, and for the first time in days you felt your spirit lighten a tiny bit. "Thanks, Sam. I feel better, honestly."

  She nodded and smirked, standing up from the table. "What can I say, I was probably a poet in my past life. Let me know how things go once you have a chance to talk with him, alright? I've gotta get back on the clock." And with that she was gone. You sighed, replaying her words in your mind.

  Later you picked up a fresh bottle of pills from Ben, thanking him quietly. You needed them desperately, having finished off your last bottle yesterday. You eagerly popped one in your mouth, washed it down and stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dark bags hung beneath your eyes, and all the color had been sucked from your face. You felt dizzy for a moment, and leaned against the door until it passed.

  When you left work, you found yourself hoping that Arthur would surprise you at the corner, the way he had the first night he kissed you. You tried to ignore the sting of disappointment when he was nowhere to be seen, and waited at the bus stop in quiet solitude.

  As soon as you closed the door to your apartment, you stripped and climbed into a scalding hot shower. Sam was right, you needed to talk to Arthur. You needed to ask him about the performance at Pogo's and find out what had happened to his mother. You needed to know what he wasn't telling you. Which meant you needed to find him. He hadn't come looking for you, but you could certainly go looking for him.

  Tomorrow you would go to his apartment, bang on the door until he let you in, and and he would explain everything. Your mind made up, you turned off the water and slipped on an oversized t-shirt without bothering to dry yourself off. You swallowed a pill and finished your glass of wine, climbed into bed, and pulled the bedding all the way over your head. It took hours, but you finally drifted off.