Old Buddy, Old Pal by Michael Laser

Old Buddy, Old Pal by Michael Laser

Author:Michael Laser
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504023238
Publisher: The Permanent Press (ORD)


6.

Lori has pouches under her eyes, looks pallid, ill. Walking helps, I think: clean, cool air washes some of the pain away. Better, at least, than sitting in one place and letting it bury her.

“I can’t believe I was such a coward. It took a month for me to say something.”

“It’s a hard thing to do.”

Bright yellow leaves on the ground, and some wine-red ones. The path hugs a vertical outcropping of Manhattan schist; can’t see a single building.

“He wasn’t even trying to hide it any more. He came in late every night and went straight to the shower.”

Her face and shoulders twitch.

“If you’re cold, you can wear my jacket.”

Shakes her head. “He couldn’t even look at me.”

“What did you say to him, exactly?”

Frowns. “I can’t remember.”

Unconvincing, but let it go.

I can’t tell which way is Fifth Avenue and which way the West Side. I always get lost in this part of the park. Just keep walking, we’ll end up somewhere eventually.

“This morning, I wished so hard it was all a dream, for a second I forgot it wasn’t.”

“What did he say when you brought up the subject?”

“He started crying.”

And now her face twists up, prologue to tears.

White sky above. A muzzled German shepherd sniffs the path, tugging a woman in a trenchcoat. I can’t say, It’ll be all right, because it won’t.

A star-shaped leaf drifts down, deep blotched red, as if someone scraped away the green to expose the blood below. She says, “You know how sometimes you wish you could take back something you said, just erase it?”

“Uh-huh. What did you say?”

“I don’t think I want to tell you.”

“You don’t have to. Only if you want to.”

“He was putting his clothes in his suitcase. I went in and asked …”

Don’t prod her.

“I asked why he wasn’t satisfied with me.” Our shoes loud on the pebbles and damp leaves. “It sounds so pathetic.”

She’s right, it does—in exactly the same way that I was pathetic when I invited Suzanne to sleep with me. We both have known humiliation.

“Did he answer you?”

“He kept saying the last thing in the world he wanted was to hurt me, ever. He said this had nothing to do with me. The sad thing is, I’m so desperate, there have been split-seconds when I let myself believe him.”

Unnecessary to ask how she coped after his exit. Assume she cried.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Yes. I took something, around three o’clock.”

I didn’t think she had this much candor in her.

A little bird, all black and white streaks, flits around on a thick tree-trunk. I point and she follows my finger. A relief to watch something outside ourselves, something small and interesting and involved in its own business.

“I wish I were a tree,” she says, “and didn’t have to think.”

“Hm.”

“It’s so foolish to build your whole life around one person. Such a mistake.”

Careful here, don’t overdo my little speech, don’t embarrass her. “Lori? I know I can’t make everything right again, but I just want you to know, any time you feel lonely or depressed you can call me and I’ll come right over.



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