I burst out laughing.
“What brought about that?”
“Just a few memories.” He arrogantly shrugged.
“Wow, Mason!”
He was unbelievable.
“When did I ever fend for sycophants? I want to know.”
“Well, I do not want to talk about it. It’s best if you recollect on your own.” He continued with his work, tapping away on his computer.
“Dude!” I couldn’t stop laughing.
We mutually thought it was pretty good to have a few drinks in the office rather than in a regular bar where he commented we could “fall prey to Delilahs.”
However, “Delilah” soon changed to “Dolly”.
Dolly was the name he fondly called Cherie, his wife. I had not heard him call her that in a long time now, as it had become forbidden since their separation.
“Dolly, what’s with her? Are you tipsy?” I queried.
It was crystal clear that he missed Cherie, but the pitiable situation they were in prevented him from actualizing his desires.
“I’m not.” He frowned. “It was a slip.”
“Would you admit that you miss her now?” I asked when he would not answer my first question.
He cleared his throat and restlessly rubbed his eyes.
“She lives two doors away from my house, you know.” I casually said.
“What?” His eyes immediately lit up as if he had discovered some sort of invaluable fortune.
“I think that means you can see her whenever you want to,” I added.
“Are you serious?” His shield of macho had broken off, and now he looked vulnerable.
“Yeah,”
He instantly sat upright. “Has, does… has she seen you? Have you met?”
“Yeah, we’ve met,” I responded.
He sighed.
“But there’s bad news.”
He immediately frowned.
“I don’t think she is there alone.”
He sighed, his eyes downcast.
“But she’s closer to you, isn’t she? And your daughters, too.”
“Forget it,” he gulped down his glass and poured himself another drink.
“Don’t try to get drunk, man,” I warned.
“I won’t,” he growled.
His state was truly pitiable. Perhaps he might need a therapist.
I hated to see him this way.
“Why don’t you tell her you still love her and want her back?” I suggested.
He looked up at me and began laughing.
“After seven years?” He suddenly grew somber again, his eyes red with emotions.
“It’s not a crime to still be in love after seven years of divorce, is it?”
He went mute and resumed drinking.
“Man, I want you to know that your cowardly flight must end sooner or later. You will have to eventually make a decision that’s best for you and your family.”
