something?”
I pulled the phone away and glared at it. What an asshole! “Well, I’m not sure what kind of things I was supposed to say but if you’re talking about flirting with her, no. I’m married and don’t need any more confusion in my life.”
He was relentless. “You flirted with the woman behind the counter.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. He was really pushing it. I had a fleeting give-and-take with an attractive young clerk that day, inter-racial like myself. Guiltily I remembered the rush I’d felt at the time, how hot she was, the seductive smile, the enthusiastic way she responded to me, one of those if I wasn’t already married moments. But then, I was married, and it was fleeting, and quickly forgotten. My only mistake had been revealing it to him.
“Kyle, I wasn’t going to pursue her. I’m married. But if you had made a play for that other woman, I’d have just watched and cheered you on.”
“And not said anything to screw it up?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just because you could.”
I was aware of being at a disadvantage for not being drunk. Still, I was quietly devastated by the accusations, my heart pounding. Finally, I collected myself, took advantage of my sobriety and commandeered the conversation into safer realms: football, baseball, and politics. For a few tense moments, we analyzed the upcoming playoffs, several movies, an obscure band from the 70s, then agreed, hollowly, to get together Saturday.
After hanging up, I briefly savored how clever I’d been to steer him away from his ugly accusations, then fell to earth. What was that about? Yes, he was drunk but why did he think I would want to steal that mystery woman from him? It was all a fantasy, anyway. He would not have gotten anywhere with her but even if somehow they did hit it off, why did he think I would intervene? I know he went to a therapist to deal with his tendency to misinterpret the behaviors and motives of others. Was that it? Was he distorting my motives? He often referred to being the family outcast while growing up, his older brother, the football star, receiving all the love and adoration. Did he carry that over to me, thinking his one loyal friend secretly disrespected him and was willing to betray him?
We’d understood from day one that we were very different people. Where I always had a comfortable rapport with women, he was awkward and self-conscious. Where I was married and had a string of former girlfriends, he had never experienced so much as a fleeting relationship, never went on a single date other