Page 19 of Carter

I take a bite of the pizza. It’s delicious. Sweet and spicy. I wash it down with more of my drink. I giggle.

“What?” he asks between bites.

“I don’t know,” I say. I giggle again.

He chuckles.

I laugh. I drink some more.

We eat. We gossip about the staff. Who’s dating who. Who’s hooking up behind our backs with members. Who teaches the worst classes. We stuff our faces with pizza. He refills our drinks.

For twenty minutes, the breakup disappears. He does the terrible impression of my mother that always makes me snort. I remind him of the time he tried to teach my father American football and nearly got tackled into a lemon tree. He knows which pineapple pieces I pick off my pizza and steals them before I can complain. I know he is worried before he says a word because he rubs the back of his neck twice. This is the part of losing Carter no one warned me about. I did not only lose the man I sleep with. I lost the person who speaks my private language.

For the first time in weeks, things feel comfortable between us.

I move my plate over a few spaces. I slide into a seat closer to him. I say, “This is nice.”

“The food?” he asks.

“No. You know, this.” I gesture at the space between us. “Hanging out. Being friends.”

His smile fades. His sparkling eyes go cold.

My heart sinks. The color drains from my cheeks.

I’m a fool.

The atmosphere in the room completely changes. The light, fun evening is gone. I feel a chill. A little shudder runs through me as his jaw clenches and he stands from his chair.

He stares me down. “We’ll never be friends.”

I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. I can’t breathe.

He grabs his cup. He turns, leaving the room. On the way out, he yanks my phone cord from the speaker, cutting the music.

I count to ten slowly in my mind. When I’m sure he’s gone, I burst into tears.

7

Carter

The rum settles in my stomach, making me feel ill.

She wants to be friends.

We will never be friends.

She was to be my wife. My everything.

I suddenly realize I can no longer be anywhere near her.

This isn’t healthy. We are supposed to be over, yet we see one another every day at work. I’m paying for her hotel. Having my driver chauffeur her about town. I’m ordering her favorite pizza.

My mind is strong. My heart weak.

If I can’t be with her, I can’t be around her.

It’s that simple.