After the Future is Gone Pt. 01

I did my best to keep my head down and do the work. That was true in therapy as well; we had progressed through the first book and onto another. Jim peeled back the onion layers of my psyche, showing me how I was repeating patterns I had learned from my parents, especially my father. Hard work, laser focus, and emotional blindness were my inheritance. We worked on that, too, trying to ready me for the time when I'd try my luck in love again. If ever.

I left my job. I just couldn't stand it anymore. Being in a place that was a constant reminder of my failures as a husband and the end of my marriage was taking too much of a toll. Luckily, I still had a few friends I had previously worked with, people that had left and gone elsewhere. One of them called me up to recruit me to a company that was in the not-quite-a-startup phase: good benefits, hours that weren't too crazy, and much higher pay, but still a chance I would come to work and find out that the founders had run off with all the money. I relished the chance to try something high risk/high reward while I wasn't responsible for anyone else. It was something I'd never experienced in my adult life.

My social life continued to suck. It's hard making friends when you're in your thirties. Sitting around a bar by yourself is lonely, you're too old to go to the clubs without feeling like a relic or a predator, and coffeeshops are for frustrated writers and young adults wrestling with young adult angst. I considered diving back into my nerdy old hobbies, but most of my nerdy old friends had kids and careers themselves, making scheduling a nightmare.

Lacking any other outlets, I threw myself into the gym. I had been going half an hour a day to walk, then jog, then run on the treadmill, but within a couple of months I had extended it to one hour and sometimes two hour sessions, adding cycling, weights, intervals, and even a little time in the pool to my repertoire.

During one of these extended self-inflicted torture sessions, I heard a bubbly voice pipe up behind me. "Can I get a spot?"

I turned to find myself looking down at an adorable pixie of a woman. She had on the standard gym wear of a sports bra and yoga pants, both of which she filled out admirably. With her diminutive size, ample curves, slim waist, blue eyes, and blonde hair done up in a messy bun, she was Tinkerbell-as-gymrat. I had seen her before, but, of course, had not watched her. Much. That way lies pariah status.

"I, uh, sure." Very smooth.

Her face split into a wide grin. "Thanks!" Then she paused and frowned. "Wait, am I interrupting your sets?"

"Nonono, I was just about done with them," I lied through my teeth.

That dazzling smile again. "Awesome! If you're doing arms today, we can spot each other."

Well, I sure as hell was doing arms now.

We went through her workout together, and I felt slightly pleased that I was lifting heavier than her, if only a little. Emily was her name. She was very talkative and surprisingly foul mouthed. I soon found out that she'd been working out religiously for five years, since she was a senior in high school. Twenty three years old, she'd graduated a couple years ago with a degree in computer science, and we were soon speaking with each other in the arcane languages of the nerd: acronyms, in-jokes, and oblique references to pop culture.

Her body was truly something to behold and, given that I had a duty to ensure she had good form, I took the opportunity to drink it in without seeming too much of a lech. But her face was what really set her apart. She was pretty. Not beautiful like a model, but the kind of girl next door wholesomeness that felt warm and approachable. She had a light dusting of freckles and a little scar above her left eye that I later found out was from when her baby brother embedded a rock in a snowball when they were kids.

We clicked immediately, and she became my workout buddy. We synced our schedules up to make sure we'd be there at the same time, and within weeks we were starting to spend time together outside the gym, grabbing a coffee together after our workouts, meeting up at her favorite bar, or catching the newest comic book movie.

She was gorgeous, so of course I kind of wanted to think of it as something more than it was. But she was almost ten years younger than me, and she had never flirted or made any sign that she was interested in that way. Over coffee at our usual post-gym place, I finally asked her what made her approach me at the gym that first day.

She laughed. "You were one of like three guys there that didn't try to ogle the girls when they thought we weren't looking. I figured you were either gay, taken, or just a good dude, roughly in that order of probability. While you were spotting me that first time, I realized it wasn't the first, and I know you're single, so process of elimination..."

I blushed fiercely as she laughed. "Hah, no, Mike, it's okay. I know I'm hot as fuck, and you still tried to be at least a little discreet. I appreciated that. And, if I'm honest, you kind of had a sad puppy dog thing going on. I figured you needed a friend, and so did I."

I think she saw a flicker of pain across my face then. She took my hand and squeezed. "What happened to you?"

I suddenly felt overwhelmed and afraid. This was the first time someone had asked me about myself, about my pain in a long time. I felt a real connection to her, even if it was simple friendship, and I knew that if I started talking about it I'd either lose it, freak her out, or both. I couldn't bear the thought of fucking up yet another relationship, even if it was just friendship.

She could see my sudden tension. "That bad, huh?" I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. She squeezed my hand again and caught my eye. "Hey. Dude. You can talk to me. I'm not going to bail on you. I'm your friend, and I'm here for you." She stood up, still holding my hand. "Come on, let's get out of here. My place is just down the street."

Her apartment was like a mirror of mine. Small, sparsely populated, electronics and furniture and little else. I sat down on one end of her couch and she on the other. I could feel her eyes on me, but she didn't say anything, instead waiting patiently for me to speak.

"My wife cheated on me." Her face fell. "With my best friend." Shock. "I found them together when I came home to surprise her. Our marriage had been in trouble for a while..." I spent most of the next hour relating everything that had happened to me in the last few months: the betrayal, losing all of my friends, loneliness, struggle with my weight, therapy, all of it. As I started to break down, she edged closer to me and put her arm around me, then held me in her arms, making little shushing noises. "It's okay, Mike. It's okay. I'm here. You're going to be alright."

And I really felt that way. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Protected. I had felt a little of this in Jim's office, but I knew that, for all of Jim's good qualities, our relationship was transactional. Here, I felt comfort, real comfort, from someone who wanted nothing more from me than to be with me. This realization triggered another bout of tears. I could let it out here. It was going to be okay.

Emily held me tightly, lovingly. Not lovingly as a man and a woman, nor just as two friends who enjoyed each other's company. She held me like someone who had broken down like this in someone else's arms before, someone who recognized a painful trauma and its effects as though it were her own.

When I was done, she kissed me sweetly on the top of my head, then pulled back from me. The front of her shirt was wet with my tears. She took my hands in hers, smiled encouragingly, and serenely said, "What a fucking cunt."

I burst into laughter and she joined me. We shared that high after the low, and it made us stronger together. I could feel our friendship deepen in that moment. She was, right then, everything I needed.

The sun had dipped low in the sky by this point, and for the first time in months, I felt really, truly hungry. "Hey, I am suddenly starving. Do you want to go grab something?"

"You're still in your workout gear. How about we just order some pizza, instead?"

I hadn't had pizza in a couple of months. I'd been trying to eat clean, but just this once, I decided it was okay. She changed into something less sweaty and tear-stained while we waited, then we sat on the couch together trying to find something to watch. We finally settled on some old Star Trek reruns, something we could just mindlessly enjoy together while munching on pizza.

She cuddled up to me, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of her body against mine felt wonderful; perhaps too wonderful. I felt myself begin to harden, and was trying to shift so that she wouldn't feel it as well. She looked up at me, then down, and I realized I had been caught.

I stammered, "I'm sorry, I-- I didn't mean..." as she edged away.

She looked down at the ground, thinking, then back up at me with an understanding smile, "No, no. I understand. You've been... alone since?"

I nodded.

"I get it. It's just a biological reaction. I was just laying there against you, and your body responded." She flashed that wonderful grin again. "It's kind of flattering, if I'm really being honest. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Thanks," I mumbled.

She paused before going on. "Mike, I like you. I really do. You're sweet and cute and funny. And I feel really honored that you trust me enough to open up to me about what happened to you. I really value our friendship."

Ah. This talk.

"And if things were different in my life, I think I might want something more with you. But they're not. I wish they were. I know that you're not going to be on the market long, as great as you are... What's with that look?"

I chuckled ruefully. "I'm a gloomy, divorced, fat nerd in his thirties. I appreciate you keeping my spirits up, but even if I was ready to date again, I can't imagine I'm going to be snapped up as quickly as you're saying."

Emily scoffed and shook her head. "Man, she really did a number on your self esteem. You say 'gloomy,' I say 'brooding, intense, focused.' You say 'divorced,' I say 'experienced and connected with his emotions.' You say 'nerd,' and I say... well, 'nerd.' Yes." She giggled. "But also 'smart and sweet.'

"And as to 'fat,' yeah, okay, you're a little out of shape, but you're working on that. I see you getting better every time we work out. Stronger, faster, more endurance. When you're ready, you're going to fuck some poor girl into oblivion if you're not careful. And I'll tell you, there are already girls at the gym noticing you. I know there's at least a couple of gals that get moist when you get that 'in the zone' look you get sometimes."

She shook her head. "But that has nothing to do with you and me. Or, rather, with me. I... I had some bad things done to me. I did a lot of bad things. One day, I'll tell you about them, and I hope it doesn't ruin how you see me. But right now, I'm still working on myself, and I can't... I'm not ready to be the person I'd need to be for you. For anyone. Not like that. I don't know if I'll ever be ready to be with someone again that way. And if I am? It's going to be a long, long time.

"So, yeah. It's not you, it's me. It's not a line; it really, really is me. And I wish it wasn't, because you're great." She sighed sadly.

"I've really enjoyed my time with you. Today, I mean, but also hanging out after the gym and everything. If you feel like you can't be comfortable being just friends-- "

I put my hands up and interrupted her. "Hey, whoa, no. There is no being 'just' friends with you. This isn't... look, truthfully, if you asked me to go to bed with you right now, I'd already be halfway to your bedroom door. Like you said, you're hot as fuck-- "

She laughed as I continued, "--but that's not why I'm here with you. I'm here with you because hanging out with you 'just' as a friend has been the happiest I've been in... hell, at least a year. Maybe longer. So, no. I'm not looking to blow that up just because you're not interested in dating me. And I don't mean that in the creepy incel 'well, I'll just be waiting in the wings until she's ready to date' way. I mean that I want to be your friend because I want to be your friend."

She had misty eyes and a tight smile. "Thank god. I was worried that..." She scooted back closer and hugged me, rather than finish the sentence. I held her tight, and it felt good. Warm. Right.

When our embrace ended, I asked, "Do you want to... I dunno, keep watching? We don't have to cuddle..."

"I'd like to, yeah. And I was enjoying the cuddling."

"I can't promise you that I'm not going to 'respond,' as you put it."

Emily laughed. "As long as it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me. I meant what I said before. It's just a biological reaction. But, if you want..." She sat on the opposite end of the couch and patted her lap. "Put your head here instead."

I laid my head in her lap and we kept watching in a comfortable silence. She smelled wonderful, the lingering scent of sweat from our workout still on her skin. She stroked my hair as we watched, and I began to get sleepy. "I should..." I yawned. "I should get going. Going to fall asleep if I stay here."

She hesitated. "You can stay if you want. I'll get you a pillow and some blankets. I'd... I'd like it if you stayed."

I was still in my workout clothes, and I couldn't imagine they'd feel too great to sleep in. But I got the feeling that she wasn't offering to let me stay for me. She wanted me to stay for her. I didn't understand why, but it was the least I could do. "Yeah, okay. That'd be great."

She got me situated, and we chatted for a little while longer before she headed to her room. Before she left, she kissed me on the forehead and said, "Thanks, Mike. Thanks for... well, just thanks." I fell asleep that night, and, for the first time in months, I dreamed without nightmares. Instead, I dreamed of a beautiful smile and freckles, of the way she held me. There was no promise of us together as lovers, but I had my friend, and that was more than enough.

We got closer. She introduced me to some of her friends. Em had a weekly D&D group that I joined. It included Rowena, a lovely, zaftig redhead from the gym; Adam, one of Emily's co-workers, tall and gangly with a mop of sandy blonde hair; and Gordon, the Platonic ideal of "D&D Dungeon Master." Rowena flirted with me shamelessly, which helped my ego a bit; she flirted with everyone, of course, but hey, a win's a win. She even flirted with Adam, even though he was both married and gay. I think Gordon resented my close friendship with Emily a little bit, but we all still got along fine.

I played a barbarian and, for once, I didn't optimize all of the fun out of my character. I had been working hard to overcome my obsessive need to analyze and plan everything out. I knew that I could very easily get into a mindset where I had a plan, and then I would block out all of the things telling me that plan wasn't working. I had made a number of bad choices throughout my life where the inflexibility that came with my focus had led to unhappiness. Sometimes they were small failures, like sucking the fun out of a room when I got too focused on winning instead of being with friends. But I was pretty certain that same tendency had helped to end my marriage.

I talked with Jim about my friendship with Emily and the talk we'd had. He encouraged me, saying that it was good to make new friendships. But he did give me one piece of advice. "Don't make the same mistakes twice. You put all of your eggs in one basket when it came to your friendships before, and if you and Emily ever do have a falling out, you should have people you can still rely on."

I took his words to heart and looked for other activities I could get into. I'd been enjoying my time at the gym, both in itself and because it meant spending more time with Emily and now Rowena. But Emily was much more into weightlifting than me, whereas I enjoyed running. Rowena was there for the bare minimum of fitness; she was pleasantly padded and happy about it, but she wanted to keep her heart and lungs healthy. I decided to start training for a half-marathon and found a group in the area. I made some new friends there and also at my new job, occasionally going out to the bar after work.

Em was very supportive of my running, and when the half marathon arrived, she was there at the finish line cheering me on, along with Rowena, Adam and a couple of my work friends. I finished well towards the back of the pack, but I did finish. When I finally stumbled across the line, Emily was there to pick me up and help me hobble to her car. I was thoroughly beaten up, and she spent the rest of the weekend at my place, nursing me back to health.

The following Friday, I came home to my apartment in a great mood. My soreness and blisters from my first half marathon in over a decade were mostly gone. I felt great. I had friends and a good job. I swung by my mailbox before going up the stairs to my flat, which is when I found the envelope from my lawyer.

I was stunned, of course. I had been living my life, and the distance I had placed from my old one somehow made the decree far more of a blow than I expected. I had dreaded this, because I knew it was the demarcation point between my old life and my new one. I had hoped for it for the same reason. And now it had arrived, and I didn't know what to do.

I stood there dumbly for a couple of minutes, my brain struggling to reboot. Then I bent down, picked up the rest of my mail, and tossed it all on the counter before calling Emily. In this time of distress, she was my first thought, even before my family.

She picked up the phone on the second ring. "Hey, nerd, what's up?"

"It's here."

"Well, that's nice and cryptic. What's here?"

"The divorce decree."

"Oh. Oh shit. Oh, Mike, are you okay?"

I thought for a while. "Mike? You still there?"

"Yeah, Em. Yeah, I'm here. And... yeah. I'm okay. I really am. It just feels so unreal, you know?"

"Sure, I get that." A pause. "Are you still dressed for work?"

"What? Uh, yeah, I am."

"Great, come on over here. We're going out."

"Where?"

"Well, first, we're going to get something to eat. Then we're going to a bar."

"Why?"

"Because my best friend is newly single, and we're going to celebrate."

I hesitated. "I dunno, Em."

"I do. Go brush your teeth and get your ass over here."

When Emily wanted something, she usually got it. I knew she was trying to help, to keep me from brooding more than I usually did, and I always enjoyed hanging out with her. Worst case, we'd just get drunk together and end up passing out on her couch watching some dumb movie.

I got to her place a little before seven. When she opened the door, I stood there with my mouth hanging open. She was dressed in a cute miniskirt and midriff-baring halter top, showing off her flat, toned stomach. She looked amazing. Of course, she always did, but I'd never seen her dress in a way that was so intentionally, overtly sexy before.

"Trying to catch a fly there, Mike?"

My jaw snapped shut. "Em, you look..."

"Too frumpy, you think?" She waggled her eyebrows at me. "Come on in and sit down."

I followed her to the couch, unable to keep my eyes off her. I was used to Em being gorgeous. I'd always been aware of it, but I had been like the proverbial frog in a pot of water. I'd gotten used to the temperature, and she'd suddenly brought the heat all the way up to a boil.

She flopped down onto the couch next to me, and the familiarity of the movement meant that I was able to again think of her as Em, my best friend, not Emily, sex on a stick. At least for now.