Page 11 of Soft Rebound (Mad City Moments #2)

Joe

T he following week , Lance asks if we can have a video call. I say sure, and we schedule a time during lunch break.

“This is weird, man,” I say when we finally manage to connect, and everyone’s cameras and microphones are finally on. He looks tired and a little puffy, but it could just be the lighting. “You know I would’ve happily come to see you in person. It’s not like Milwaukee is radioactive.”

He chuckles, but seems serious underneath, almost sad. “Yeah, I know. A lot is going on. It’s not a good time.”

I straighten in my chair. “Okay then. You wanted to talk.”

“Sorry I stood you up last week. It really wasn’t planned. The kid got sick.”

“Not a problem at all.” I smile. “I ended up spending a very pleasant evening with someone else instead, so it all worked out well.”

He seems relieved. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. So tell me what’s up.”

Lance takes a big breath. “Well, apart from my desire to watch the Vikings for once without sticky little fingers pulling at me, the reason I wanted to see you was that I had some news.” When my eyebrows shoot up, he continues. “It’s about Kim.”

My mood instantly darkens, but my curiosity is piqued. “Oh-kay?”

“She’s engaged.”

Kim’s engaged.

What the fuck?

Kim’s engaged?

Somehow I manage to respond in an almost reasonable tone. “Good for Kim. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“You don’t know him. It’s a guy from her work. Apparently she met him after you were already divorced. He’s a good guy, Joe. They’re good together.”

I hadn’t even noticed my hands have balled into fists in my lap. Lance can’t see them, and for the first time today, I’m thankful we’re videoconferencing and not meeting in person.

I could stab myself in the leg with scissors, and he wouldn’t know. Why my mind goes there at this moment, I do not know.

I focus on my breath and school my features. “Good,” I say. “Thanks for telling me. Give my best to the happy couple.”

“I thought you should know,” Lance says.

I look to the side. “When’s the wedding?”

“Next year. Early summer. June.”

“So you’re saying I should save the date.” I grin, and Lance chuckles.

“Yeah. Maybe not,” he says.

“I guess Kim has officially won this divorce thing,” I say. I’m far from overjoyed by the news, but the truth is, my mood isn’t as gloomy as I thought it might be.

It’s not as gloomy as it would be if I hadn’t met Liz last week.

One night with her has diluted the inky darkness, where my mind often dwells when it comes to Kim.

“It’s not a competition,” Lance says. “We’re all worried about you.”

And now I’m just pissed. Nobody had better fucking pity me. “Don’t be. I’m doing great.”

Lance puts up his hands. “Okay, Joe. Okay. No offense. I hear you.”

“Well, thanks for telling me the news.” I shouldn’t be a dick to Lance—he’s not the one I divorced. “So how are things otherwise? With you, Sarah, the kids?”

He pulls back. Physically, away from the screen.

“Lance?”

“It’s ... complicated. Being married with kids is complicated.” He’s avoiding my eyes, looking really uncomfortable.

“Everyone’s healthy?”

“Yeah, yeah. The kids are great. No problems there.”

“Lance, you know we can talk about your shit if you want, right? We were friends irrespective of Kim.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know. But, still, you know—” He shrugs. “Things don’t feel the same.”

I lean toward the screen. “No, they don’t. But maybe that’s how it goes. Maybe that’s normal,” I say. “Life goes on. People change.”

“That they do.” Lance sighs. “That they do.”

****

I do something I haven’t done in years—I pull up Kim’s Facepalm profile. She posts a lot and keeps plenty of it public, so I don’t have to be friends with her to see it.

The new guy seems decent—clean cut and handsome, with brown eyes and hair.

Kim looks mostly how I remember her. She’s a pretty brunette, naturally slim, with a nice smile and curly hair.

The two make a good-looking couple, probably better looking than Kim and I ever did.

I was always a little too gigantic for her, and she’d have preferred me to be thinner and more classically handsome.

I feel a pang of something when I look at the pictures.

I don’t think it’s jealousy, because the guy doesn’t bother me.

It happens only when I look at Kim. I’ve seen her “picture face” a million times before.

Like on our wedding day. Outside our first apartment.

In our first house. In how happy we once were.

It’s plain old nostalgia, I realize, this pressure in my chest. Nostalgia is expected, natural. Nostalgia makes sense.

But I want to be done with it.

I hate that our marriage and its failure still knock me off balance.

When will I be done? Will I ever be done?

****

W hen Kim and I first separated, I saw a therapist twice a week. As I felt a little better, I went down to once a week, then every two weeks.

That’s how often I still see Simone. She’s an older woman whose age I can’t quite guess but have always felt it would be too intrusive to ask about.

She has shoulder-length gray hair and a penchant for flowing skirts.

Her office is decorated with sculptures made out of metal and wood, and she’s got thick rugs on the floors and soft throw pillows on every piece of furniture meant for sitting.

“So Kim’s getting married,” Simone says matter-of-factly.

I nod.

“You know I’m going to ask how that makes you feel.”

“That’s the job,” I chuckle. “I was surprised, I admit. And then I went down the memory lane. Checked her social media, which I hadn’t done in forever.”

“And?”

“Nice man. I think they fit.”

“Anything else?”

“I was mostly wistful. She was both familiar and not at all. Like everything that happened, happened to someone else. But it still perturbed me. And that really perturbed me.”

Simone raises an eyebrow. “You were upset because you were upset?”

“Something like that. I keep waiting to not give a shit. When will I not give a shit?”

“Ah,” Simone says with a knowing smile. “Unfortunately, it could be never. And that’s fine, Joe. You’re human. It’s okay to feel wistful.”

I sigh. “I know. You’re right. But, honestly, it was better than I’d feared.”

“Explain.”

“I thought I’d go a dark place, but even the initial shock wasn’t that bad.” I grin. “I think it’s ‘cause I finally got laid.”

Simone’s eyebrows shoot all the way up into her hairline. “Joe! That’s a great development. When did it happen?”

“Last week. I met a woman at a bar. We hit it off. Really hit it off. We went to my place. It was really something.”

My therapist laughs, the rare genuinely amused laugh I hear from her. “I see. So it was good?”

“Oh, Simone, better than good. I don’t know, maybe I was just happy to have sex after three years, but I think it was objectively pretty amazing.

This woman and I, we have incredible chemistry.

A real connection. It’s ... not something I’d experienced before.

It’s really potent.” I pause and grin. “Or maybe I’d just been too eager to get laid. One or the other.”

Simone chuckles. “Ah, you with the jokes. I see you really like this woman and are scared you’re misreading the situation and it’s not real. Did I get that correctly?”

I sulk a little, a bit embarrassed that she’s read me so easily. “Maybe.”

“Oh, Joe,” she says softly. “It’s good to be enthusiastic. And it’s really special to have this type of connection with someone new.”

“There’s a problem, though.” My face tightens. “She’s fresh out of a relationship—a broken engagement—so doesn’t really want anything with me.”

Simone frowns. “That doesn’t sound great.”

“She wants only something casual, since we’re both on the rebound.”

“Hmm. That’s unfortunate.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I need.” I shrug. “Just sex. I’ve missed sex.”

“Well, sex is certainly a good thing. But you seem to really like her. If I understood you correctly, you hit it off beyond the physical attraction?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“I see. And what’s the young woman’s name?”

“Liz.”

“Liz. Well, I hope I get to hear more about her in the future. And, Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“You deserve everything you want. Not just crumbs.”

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