A Tale of Two Trucks (8 page)

On one of our rare evenings together, when I’d cooked up his favorite southern-style fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy, he informed me he’d called his parents to tell them about his impending change in marital status.

“They took it pretty hard,” he said with a sigh. “I mean, they knew it had to happen, since Cindy left so long ago and never showed any signs of even
wanting
to come back, but still… they’d been hoping it would all work out, somehow.”

“Of course they were,” I remarked, putting myself in their shoes for a moment. “They want you to be happy, and they wanted your marriage to work. Reality, in this case, just really, really
sucks
.”

He managed a wan smile at that. “Yeah. But you can only play the cards you’re dealt.”

He crashed that night in my guest bedroom, and I couldn’t resist sitting out in the hallway for a few minutes, just listening to his snoring, before going to sleep in my own bed with a satisfied sigh.

H
E
came home a few nights after that with the news that his aunt and uncle, who lived in town, had called him while he was at work. They had invited him to their house for dinner the next Friday.

“Apparently, my mom called Aunt Peg, and she’s worried that I might be a bit down with this whole divorce thing,” he told me. “They helped me get settled in here when I came for work, and I haven’t gone over to see them in a while, so I’ve been feeling a little guilty about it too….”

I wondered why he was telling me this in such an apologetic tone.

“Well, that’s very sweet of them to have you over! Do they drink wine? I can pick up a bottle for you to take over. Or would a box of chocolates be better?”

“I, uh… I don’t know…. But Mike, you don’t have to do that—even though I’m glad you reminded me! No, I’ll pick something up myself on my way there. I’m just sorry that I’m bailing out on you when we were gonna go bowling….”

“
Oh
! Oh good grief, Joe, don’t worry about it! Family always comes first; I understand,” I assured him, finally realizing why he had seemed so remorseful.

“Well, I just…. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“Of course you will,” I shot back with a smirk. “I’ll make sure of it!”

He grinned, knowing I would make good on my threat.

“Okay” was all he said, and for the moment I felt like everything was.

I
T
wasn’t until late Saturday morning, when Joe came over again, that I found out what his aunt and uncle were up to: the dinner had actually been a
setup
. They’d invited another couple and their daughter—their single, blonde, pretty, thirty-something executive assistant daughter! Joe told me how shocked and embarrassed he was when he realized what was going on, especially since it was so obvious, but apparently everybody else had known about it beforehand. No doubt they’d been concerned that Joe might not show up if he knew about the young lady, so they had deliberately kept him in the dark.

I swear Cupid must have it in for me too!

Chapter 12

T
HE
upshot of his meddling aunt’s conniving plan was that Joe had been ganged up on until he
had
to take their friends’ daughter, Faith, out on a date.

“I was just, y’know, trying to talk about general stuff,” he explained to me, looking a bit distressed and befuddled. “Somehow the conversation got to movies, and Uncle Doug happened to mention that new Jerry Bruckheimer movie you wanted to see, so I said I was planning on going to see it, then Faith said
she
wanted to see it too, and then Aunt Peg, like, jumped all over me and said I should take her tomorrow night—I mean tonight, y’know. I tried to back out of it by telling them I was going out with the guys to shoot some pool, but… well, Aunt Peg said the guys wouldn’t miss me for just one night, and at that point it would’ve been rude to keep puttin’ her off….”

As Joe’s voice trailed off apologetically, I tried my damnedest to keep my face placid.

“Well, I have to disagree with your Aunt Peg,” I replied dryly. “You
will
be missed. But I daresay we’ll survive!”

“I was gonna make it up to you for last night too,” he sighed, and I felt a hitch in my breath. “But I figure, it’s just one night, right? And I get the feeling Aunt Peg won’t rest until I go out with Faith once, at least. She says it’s high time I got back on the horse.”

I restrained myself from offering to let him ride my ass instead… but only barely. I also had the sneaking suspicion that once he
did
go out with one of his Yenta’s candidates, she would keep pressing him with others until he finally broke down and chose one. Joe was doomed, and so was I.

I only half heard the rest of what he told me. Suffice it to say, I helped him pick out an outfit (from the clothes
I’d
helped him shop for) to wear when he took this girl out to Applebee’s (
our
usual dinner hangout) and went to see the movie (that
we’d
been planning to see together). I could tell Joe felt bad about leaving me in the lurch like that, especially for two nights straight, but I tried to act as nonchalant as I could.

“I’ll expect a full report tomorrow!” I told him with mock severity, pointing at him with his torn work shirt in my hand (to be mended later).

“Yes, sir,” he replied meekly. “D’you think you’ll go tonight? To see the guys?”

“Well, we can’t
both
of us disappoint them,” I pointed out with an eye-roll. “They’d be lost without us! And Hank really needs to work on his hip action. I’ve gotta figure out how to motivate those men to
move
.”

“God! I sure hate to miss you giving
Hank
a dancing lesson!” he said, his sincerity evident in his tone.

A
FTER
a late lunch, we went to the store to get groceries for the coming week, and then it was time for Joe to hop in the shower. While frying some ground beef, I had time to give myself a mental shake and a silent tongue-lashing. This was the first date for Joe in years. He was probably nervous about the whole thing, so I needed to be supportive. And besides, I wanted Joe to be happy, right? What if this girl was The One for him?

My inner child started to throw a tantrum, saying that
I
wanted to be The One for Joe, but I banished my alter ego to the back of my mind and turned on some Bee Gees (in honor of it being Saturday night) while I made the pasta sauce. When Joe came downstairs in his outfit, I smiled brightly at him.

“You look great!” This much was true. “Go get ’em, tiger!” My enthusiasm was feigned.

“I thought I was a water buffalo?” he retorted, and I shook the wooden spoon at him threateningly.

“Don’t you start with me, young man! Now shoo! You mustn’t keep a lady waiting.”

“Right, ‘Mom’,” he shot back with a lopsided grin. “See you later!”

As he went out the door, I almost called out to him, “Don’t forget to wear your rubbers!” but the words caught in my throat and I couldn’t make a sound. I watched as his truck pulled out of my driveway and drove off, taking some of my artwork with it. It might as well have had my heart loaded in the back, because I felt so empty. But then again, my heart felt like it was being ripped into a million pieces, so it must still be inside of me, after all. Damn.

I
COULDN
’
T
eat the spaghetti and meatballs I’d made for dinner. I tried, but it just tasted like so much cardboard. I gave up before I’d taken ten bites and sat in front of the TV, mending Joe’s shirt, but the scent of him still on the fabric made me ache for him so badly that I started sniffling. I hate to cry, because not only does it give me a headache and red, bloodshot eyes, but it also makes my face puff up, making me look horrible. So normally, I avoid crying if at all possible, but tonight it seemed unavoidable.

I’d never intended to go to the bar tonight without Joe, anyway. The guys were nice enough to me, but I’d be so distracted about him—what he was doing, if he were going to spend the night with this girl, if he’d ever come “home” to my place again—that they’d catch on to my feelings right away. It was one thing for them to suspect I was in love with Joe, but I didn’t want it to become common knowledge. Things like that had a way of getting back to the people involved, and I would
die
of embarrassment if Joe ever found out.

I had the comedy channel on but hardly heard a word, even when Jeff Dunham came on with all his puppets. I wondered and worried about Joe as much as I wanted to, since I was in the privacy of my own home, imagining him laughing and having a good time with his date. Maybe right about now they’d be heading to the theater. Now he’d be buying her popcorn and soda—maybe a soda to share?—and they’d find a place to sit together. She was sitting next to him in what was supposed to be
my
seat, watching the movie that
I
had asked him
first
if we could go see! She’d usurped my place completely, and I feared I could never get him back.

I felt resentful toward her, although I realized she probably didn’t even know I existed! Then I started to get mad at Joe. Why hadn’t he explained to everybody that he was going to that movie with me, his roommate and best buddy, and used
that
as an excuse to turn down the date? Maybe he
didn’t
want to turn her down? Maybe, despite his reluctant attitude, he actually
wanted
to go on a date with her? So much so that he would rather go through the whole song and dance of apologizing to me for standing me up?

Which would certainly make a lot of sense
, I thought to myself, and then the tears began to flow. Once the dam broke, it turned into a flood, and I used up half the box of tissues on the coffee table, sobbing so loudly that I drowned out the laughter coming from the TV. It was bad enough to have Joe go on a date with someone else, under pressure from his family; it was infinitely worse to think he
preferred
her company over mine!

But of course he does,
a voice inside of me viciously countered.
He’s not gay. He’s only interested in women, not in fags like you!
It was my inner child, getting its revenge on me for having given it a time-out earlier.
And besides, you’re a horrible person for wanting to keep him to yourself, when you know he won’t be happy with you—when you know he wants a
wife.
No wonder he’d rather go out with this chick. You really are just a possessive, selfish, crazy bitch! You don’t deserve a nice guy like Joe!

I knew that was true. Joe was so kind and patient and nice… and I was just a pathetic, miserable black hole of emotional need. I didn’t deserve him. But I didn’t want to settle for another Brandon, either. So I would probably end up alone for the rest of my life and die as a bitter, lonely old man in a nursing home, with nobody to even come and visit me.

Meanwhile, Joe would find a nice wife and have a nice family and live a nice, happy life, just like he deserved to. Happily Ever Afters were reserved for good people only! And Joe should get The Works: a big house with an even bigger yard, a white picket fence, and kids running around with a dog. Joe would be the dad, coming home from work to be greeted enthusiastically by his kids.

Suddenly, it hit me. He had already
been
a daddy—to Dana, the precious little baby girl he’d lost. And I realized, finally, that he needed a new wife with whom to start a new family in order to heal. If he were able to have another baby and that child grew up healthy and strong, it would go a long way toward filling that aching void in his heart. Who was I to begrudge him that? How could I say I loved him when I was so wrapped up in my own needs that I couldn’t see
his
?

This epiphany depressed me even further. I was a horrible person. Even though I had no hope of happiness in my future, it was no more than I deserved. Achmed the Dead Terrorist made a crack about recruiting terrorist trainees from the Suicide Hotline; I was ready to volunteer. But I didn’t want to hurt anybody else and sink even lower in my own meager estimation. So I just wrapped Joe’s shirt around me and cried.

Chapter 13

E
VENTUALLY
I turned the TV off, since the next show’s comedian was foul-mouthed and, especially in my current state of mind, not even funny. I didn’t have the energy to drag myself upstairs to bed, though, so I just sat on the floor of my living room, huddled against the couch, surrounded by wet, wadded-up tissues on all sides. My empty life stretched out ahead of me like a dark and lonely road, presenting me with a future that was too bleak to contemplate.

So, what was I going to do? I had no family, nobody who loved me, and no desire to find someone who would. The biggest problem was, I wanted
Joe
, and not some substitute for Joe. But I couldn’t have Joe. He had never even been available for wanting—not by me, anyhow. And I couldn’t bear to stand by and watch him fall in love with someone else. I could try to be happy for him, but to be his best friend and smile through it all? Possibly even get asked to be his best man? That was just too much.

Should I just end it all? It’s not like anybody would miss me. Well, Joe might, but he’d get over it soon enough. He’d find happiness, if not with this girlfriend, then with another his aunt would provide for him. I had to do something about Rick, though. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him jobless when he had a family to provide for. I’d have to wait until he found a new job, which wouldn’t be easy in this economy, but I’d write him a glowing recommendation and help him as much as I could. That would also give me time to finish up the jobs I’d already taken on. I had a responsibility to my clients too, after all.

I could tell Rick and Joe I was moving out of town, but what would be the reason? They both knew that I didn’t have any family, and an interior designer isn’t going to pack up and move right when he’s begun to make a name for himself. Well… I could pretend I’d found my birth father—or better yet, that
he’d
found
me
! The guys didn’t know I was the product of prostitution, so it was within the realm of possibility, and would certainly explain why I was moving away so suddenly.