I took a shower. As the water ran over me, I remembered making love to Sherry the night before. It hit me that my life was changed forever. I wondered why that didn’t matter to me more.
“What are you going to do?” can be a little or a big question. My way of functioning is to turn the big questions, the ones that aren’t answerable, into smaller questions, cutting them into bites I can manage. Do I get back with Sherry? Big question. When or how do I see Sherry? Little question. What do I do about Tom? Big question. When do I see Tom? Little question.
I called Tom’s cell phone. He answered, which surprised me because I’m sure he could see the number on his display.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
“Explain it.”
“It just happened. Flirting, nothing more than that, and then one day I ran into her at the mall and then I stopped by your place and it just happened.”
“How long? I know how long. I just want you to verify.”
“Almost five months.” I could hear him wanting to say more so I waited. “We never wanted you to know. Or Peg. We couldn’t stop.”
At that moment, I knew exactly what I was going do. “I never want to see you again. Our friendship is over. I don’t give a fuck what happens between you and Peg. You’re completely out of my life. You don’t exist. You’re gone. Goodbye.” And I hung up.
At the moment Tom spoke, when he told me in all sincerity that he never wanted to hurt me, I knew he meant it, that he had succumbed to weakness, that he had gone down the wrong road in the dark. Fuck that. Fuck that. Fuck a friend who fucks over a friend. He ratted me out. He ran away when my life was in danger. He watched me drown without calling for help.
You think regret matters? You think Fredo didn’t regret selling out Michael? I’ll fucking bet Judas regretted too. You think you get forgiven because I’m not your enemy, because I’m not one of the guys you’re supposed to fuck? You can’t sell out your enemies. You can’t fuck over your enemies. You can’t betray your enemies. You were my best friend and you fucked my wife so fuck you. You betrayed me. You sold me out. Fuck you forever, you fucking bastard. You’re nothing to me now.
I drove to Sherry’s parents. I didn’t call first. Her dad answered the door. He looked sad and a little afraid.
“How you doing?” I asked. He stepped on to the porch, pulling the door most of the way closed. He sighed.
“She told us. You know that she loves you. You know that, don’t you? I can see you know that.” He shook his head again. “What a stupid bitch. Can you believe I’m calling my daughter a bitch? Stupid. She’s stupid. I can’t believe I’m saying this about my own daughter, but stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.”
I got the point. He sounded disorganized but he knew exactly what he was saying: Sherry made a mistake, a big mistake, but just a mistake. With work and time, we could get past it. Bitch. Stupid. Call her names but get over it.
“You going to let me in?”
“The idiot is in the kitchen.”
I didn’t know what I was going to say until I sat down at the kitchen table. Sherry was pale, her eyes puffy. Her mother stood off to the side. Her father sipped from a glass of water.