But for the Grace of Sonya

We were brothers, Dale and me, but not by birth. And we didn't grow up next door to each other either. We were brothers by circumstance, by shared experience. Well, by shared agony if we're going to be honest.

We met at a Tuesday night meeting. It was my second, the first with this group. He was the second person to speak.

"I'm Dale, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hello, Dale." Uneven enthusiasm.

"I've been sober for ten weeks." Respectful applause.

"My wife left me for another man a few months ago. She was a raging bitch for about a year before that though, and I started drinking more just to deal with all that shit. And then the wheels came off when she left. I didn't see any reason not to drink. Drinking made me numb. Until I lost my job and my boss did me the kindness of telling me that I was a fuck-up, and I was giving her too much power. She was a cast-iron bitch to be sure, but I didn't have to let her get to me like that. It took me a while, but I finally found a way to crawl out of the bottle. And I'm taking it one day at a time since. Thank you."

He sat down and rubbed his chin, which was halfway between clean-shaven and bearded. His eyes were red but not blurry, and they had a haunted look about them. Skittish. Like he was watching from where the next blow would come. Ready to dodge and run. Anything to keep from taking another full-on baseball-bat-to-the-solar-plexus kinda shot.

He looked just like me. And for the same reason.

I walked over to him when the meeting ended. He was talking with another guy, and they shook hands, grimly, just as I approached. I put out my hand.

"Name's Teddy. Your story is awful familiar."

Dale took my hand and pressed it with some power. I responded in kind. We looked in each other's eyes, nodding slightly. No intimidation, just honoring the men who taught us how to shake hands.

"Sorry to hear that."

We decided to get some real coffee instead of the weak shit they served at the meeting. When you don't drink there isn't much to do at night but to get coffee. Saved us both from going home and staring at the walls though, so it was cool.

"Latte? Really?"

"Sue me," Dale said. "I like it."

Denny's was mostly empty, so we had plenty of privacy.

"My wife left me too."

"What bullshit did she give you?"

I shrugged. "Not much. Just a note. Didn't want to talk to her after that anyway. Said she found someone who made her 'feel valued.' Whatever that means."

"That's a chickenshit move. My Charlene at least told me to my face. Seemed awful happy about it though. She had a mean streak at the end there, at least as far as I was concerned."

"Why did she go?"

"Said she found someone who loved her enough to put her first. Like I wasn't busting my ass for her all those years."

"How long were you married?"

"Eight years. And counting, I guess. Still got a month or two before it's official."

"Kids?"

"No, thank God. You?"

"No. Grace and I talked about it last year, but then we didn't do it. Good thing, I guess."

"Fucking whores."

I raised my coffee cup. "I'll drink to that."

Dale laughed. At least I think so. It was a sharp bark, short, maybe a little angry. Maybe more than a little.

"Fucking whore."

He might need a broader vocabulary. We sipped quietly for a couple moments.

"Does it get any easier?"

Dale shrugged. "Not really. She's a fucking whore who tore out my heart and tossed me away, and I still think about her. Hoping she'll come back. Then hoping she won't ever darken my door again. It's all fucked up."

"Yeah." I took another sip. The coffee was hot, endless, and bitter. Like the mood, I suppose.

"Done the paperwork?" he asked.

"Yeah. Well, she did. Guess she wanted to be unencumbered for her new man."

"Did she get your stuff?"

"Nah. Didn't have much, and she wanted fast more than anything. You?"

"Split it down the middle. Took a while before we could be civil enough to do that though."

We sat silently again.

"Baseball fan?" he finally asked.

"Yeah. Twins, sadly."

"Me too. Got tickets for Saturday. Interested?"

"Sure."

The Twins won for a change, and when he wasn't talking about his soon-to-be ex-wife, Dale was a funny guy. His screeds on his marriage could be amusing too, I suppose, but they hit too close to home for me.

Turns out we both ice-fished. We liked country music too, maybe because we were each living a sad country song. A few nights after the game we were drinking Diet Pepsi in a tavern with a pretty decent hard-driving roadhouse-blues band. It wasn't the season for ice-fishing, but the next weekend he invited me along for a fishing trip with a couple of his other buddies who had a boat. Diet Rite cola doesn't taste as good as beer when you're up on the lake, but then you don't get the hangover, so maybe it's a fair trade.

Grace had fucked me up, and whenever I was alone I would obsess over her exit from my life. That didn't stop when I met Dale, but I spent much less time alone, so I just didn't think about her as much as before. Dale adopted me it seemed, and I sure needed someone else to give a shit about my life. He was a de facto big brother. He organized outings, and he had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances and coworkers who liked to do things with him. He was an interesting guy, sure of what he wanted and committed in his actions. I don't think he ever second-guessed himself. But there was one thing we all knew: Dale's ex Charlene had carved him up, and when he got the bit in his mouth on that topic he really went to town.

"If she wanted some flashy asshole with a Mercedes then why did she marry me? Fucking whore is what she was in the end. Throw me over for some richer guy. Gold-digging bitch. Nothing good enough for her."

I'd learned early to hold my tongue when he started in on Charlene, and so did everyone else. Conversation about her riled him up, so being quiet sometimes kept the rant short. Usually not though. He had crafted an impressive monologue through sheer repetition.

"You think I ignored her? Left her lonely at night?" We'd stopped asking questions, so Dale himself took up the slack. "Hell, no! I quit my bowling leagues when I got engaged to her. Never did an overnight for fishing. No more than one game in a month, and half the time I asked her to come too. At first she would, then she stopped. Never said why.

"Did I drink too much? Not then. One beer after work was my limit. Maybe a couple if a good game was on. And I was always home in time to do some chores before dinner so we could watch TV after.

"And I took care of her in the bedroom too. She had no complaints. She wasn't a screamer, but she seemed to like getting between the sheets with me. At first we'd do it four or five times a week, then a little less, and by the end it was once a week, maybe twice if my birthday didn't fall on a Saturday."

He'd been completely devoted to Charlene, but for whatever reason she stopped loving him. One of the guys from his high school once asked him how long she'd been fucking around on him. Dale answered in the saddest voice possible.

"No clue. I never let her tell me. Stopped talking to her and stopped listening as soon as she said she wanted a divorce. Never saw her without lawyers again."

I knew exactly how he felt, but after a while I got restless listening to him. I really liked the guy, and having lived my version of his life I felt bad for him, plus I owed him for embracing my sorry ass when no one else did. But Charlene wasn't coming back, and at some point you gotta just say fuck it and move on. Easier said than done, of course, but he was lean with just a little belly, he had all his hair and his teeth, and he had a good job. Lots of women would be happy to have him, but he insisted on picking at the scab so his wound always ran red.

Maybe I was doing the same. I didn't think so, since I hated thinking about Grace. But I couldn't stop thinking about Grace, and when I did it was all black.

It's the rejection, I guess, that gutted me. She was perfect. No supermodel for me, Grace had meat on her bones. She was lively and laughed all the time, often at me. She was smart, and when she lost her temper I learned to lay low until she worked through it. She never read anything, but she'd listen to podcasts all the day long if she could, so she knew a lot of shit about everything.

I loved her. I'd think about her at work and smile. I couldn't wait to get home to her. And when she said she loved me, well, there's no better feeling in the world than reciprocated love. I couldn't understand how the woman who picked me above all others could turn around and choose someone else. Especially after she said she loved me. I thought that made me better than anyone else, at least for her. How does it happen that you fall out of love? After three years? I couldn't have changed that much. I completely understood how Dale felt about Charlene -- I lived for Grace, and she just set me aside.

If the rejection after acceptance confused me, the betrayal enraged me. My father always said finish one thing before starting another. Good advice. Grace never got it, or at least she didn't heed it. That she could do something so cruel to someone she claimed to love, well, that pretty much told me that she didn't really love me, and that hurt like a motherfucker. And it really pissed me off that she defiled our home with her betrayal. That was our place together, the sanctuary that represented our marriage, our shared retreat from the big indifferent world. And she brought someone else into it.

Fucking whore.

Shit. Maybe I was on the road to Dale-ville after all.

Until I hit a detour.

I first saw her at a barbecue that one of Dale's friends hosted. Dale was the unquestioned ringleader of our band of fellas, but he had one unbreakable rule: guys only. No women welcome. Ever. But not every dude was as woman-intolerant as Dale, so Cal invited us all over to his place on a Saturday. He had the beer and enough potato salad to feed us all for the rest of the month, but we had to bring our own meat to grill and a dish to pass and whatever we wanted to drink that wasn't Molson. Dale didn't show up of course, but most everyone else did, some even with dates. Between Cal and his girlfriend Sammi they'd invited about three dozen people, so it was a pretty good crowd.

I'd healed some since I met Dale, but Grace trashed my confidence along with the rest of the pain she wrought, so I was content to just sit in my camp chair and stare at women. I wasn't blatant about it, but no way was I going to actually talk to them. I mean, if you're an average guy, maybe carrying an extra ten pounds, decently coordinated but never a starter on your high-school sports teams, and LeBron James shows up on the playground, well, you'd be a moron to call him out, right?

So I sat with my Diet Dr. Pepper and watched the women until one of them would glance at me. Then I'd look away. The problem is that I only have two eyes and they work together, so I never saw her coming in from the side.

"Ain't you the shy one," a soft but certain voice said to my right. She had a bit of a southern accent. I've never been smooth, but that voice so unnerved me that I dropped my can of pop, and it splashed over my feet and flip-flops. The soft voice started laughing, but it wasn't mean, just amused. Then she put a tiny hand on my arm, squeezed firmly and said, "Sorry -- I didn't mean to startle you."

She was a skinny little thing, and if she cleared five feet tall it was only by the thick blonde hair on her head. Her eyes were enormous, her tits were small, and my own ass was way bigger and rounder than hers. But her face was pretty, and those gleaming white teeth in those two perfect rows, well, they blinded me, and I just felt all warm. Her bare feet were just as dainty as her hands, and while they were beautiful they were also functional, with a hint of callous on her soles. There was no polish on any of her nails, and her only jewelry was a pair of gold posts in each ear and a single thin gold chain around her neck holding a small pendant.

I stuttered a bit, then just gave up and shrugged. She laughed again. I liked it when she laughed.

"Can I git you a new soda?"

I shook my head. "Nah, don't worry about it."

"So how come you don't talk? This is a party, after all."

I shrugged again. I was never smooth, and now I was out of practice too. "Nothing to say, I guess."

"Everyone's got something to say. What's your name?"

"Teddy."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" I swear if I saw it one more time I'd be addicted to her smile. "I'm Sonya."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Same here. How do you know Cal and Sammi?"

"Met Cal through some friends."

"Are you one of them He-Man Women-Haters that Sammi talks about?"

I winced a little at that. I thought Grace was direct, but this Sonya just said whatever was on her mind. Her accent softened her words, but, Jesus, those words! I couldn't really argue the point though. The description did fit Dale better than not.

"I don't think it's quite like that. But some of us haven't had the best experiences with women."

"Sorry to hear that. Love can be rough and tumble sometimes, right?"

"It would seem so."

"Well, don't just sit there, Teddy -- looks like Cal's got the fire going, so let's get to cooking." She tugged on me until I was standing, and then she took my hand and pulled me towards the grill.

"What did you bring to cook?" she asked. "I hope you're not one of them tofu lovers."

I scoffed. "Marinated tri tip."

"I knew there was something I liked about you. I brought a ribeye." She looked at me sideways. "And I ain't sharing."

I hadn't laughed in a lot of months, but I almost laughed at that. We dug our beef out of the cooler and told Cal how we wanted them cooked -- medium for me, medium-rare for her -- and then went over to where the food was spread out to fix our plates.

"Your mama must be proud of you," she said with another smile. "You took a little bit of everything, just like she taught you."

I shrugged. I wasn't huge -- I was more solid than anything -- and Mom was indeed proud that I'd learned to be polite. But truth be told I wasn't much of a cook, so I took advantage of every chance I got to try some food I didn't make myself. An event like this may not have exactly been food heaven, but it was on the way there.

Sonya's ribeye was ready first, but she waited while mine finished cooking. We made our way over to where the tables were set up and we were spoiled for choice since Sonya and I were among the first to get our food. We found a table that didn't wobble too much and sat down. Someone would join us eventually, but for now we were by ourselves.

"You really don't talk much, do you?" she asked while she cut into her ribeye.

"I'm not very interesting."

"And you're really not very good at flirting either. Good thing you're cute."

Cute? I'm six feet tall with a broad build, and I'm never going to be confused with Zac Efron.

"Had an eye exam lately?"

"Yup. I like my men to have some substance."

"My ex said the same thing when we met. Seemed she changed her mind somewhere along the way."

I put a bite of potato salad in my mouth before it hit me just how bitter that sounded. Hell, it might be the very definition of bitter. But I was polite, so I didn't talk with my mouth full. To my surprise Sonya just looked at me quizzically and stayed quiet until I swallowed.

"I'm really sorry about that. That was a really terrible thing to say. What I meant was, thank you."

Well, that brought out the bright smile.

"Nice save. It's always attractive when a man apologizes."

I smiled at her too. "I get a lot of chances to apologize."

"Do you? Or is that just what your ex said about you?"

Wow, she really was direct. "You don't have much of a filter, do you?"

"I say what I mean. That's not everyone's cup of tea." She looked down to her plate, then looked up at me through her bangs with a sly smile. "Is it yours?"

I did laugh then, and it felt pretty good.

"You know, I think it is." I paused for a moment, then decided what the hell. "That's the first time I can remember laughing in a very long time."

Sonya tilted her head and her eyes narrowed as she studied my face. "I don't think I like your ex one bit."

"Another thing we have in common then."

She nodded, and went back to her food. So did I. We sat and ate, quiet for the most part. It didn't feel at all awkward. Maybe she was just waiting on me to start a conversation, but if so she didn't make it obvious. But my mind was working.

"Do you have an ex?" I finally asked her.

"A couple of them. Ex-boyfriends though. Not ex-husbands."

"End on good terms?"

"Not really. I don't hate them, but I'm not going to lift a finger for either of them again."

I nodded. "I think I do hate my ex-wife."

"How come?"

"She cheated on me. Even brought him into our bed. That was supposed to be our place and ours alone."

"That's pretty low."

"Yeah."

We were quiet again. Weird how I could be with Sonya and just feel settled. She didn't scare me like other women did. I'm not sure why I started talking again.

"I don't know why she did that. Not just the thing with our bedroom. I mean the whole thing. Why she figured I wasn't enough any more. Why she went looking for a new man. Why she didn't love me any more."

"She's a stupid bitch, that's why." Sonya's voice held no small amount of venom. But then it softened and she reached across and squeezed my forearm. Her hands were small but they made a strong grip. "But she set you free to be with someone who appreciates you, so maybe there's a silver lining there."

I tried to tell myself that very same thing many times since Grace left me that note, but it never took. But when Sonya said it, my emotions shifted, and I could see it a bit better. It felt nice.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"Let's stop talking about her. What do you do for work?"

So we chatted like normal people do when they're getting to know each other. She teased me a lot, but it wasn't like when Grace would tease me. Grace would say things that made me think she meant them, and on the occasions when I felt wounded she'd say I was just thin-skinned and couldn't take a joke. Sonya would say something, and maybe it was the accent or the knowing smile, but it seemed obvious that she really thought I was all right. She was witty, but not unkind. In fact, she was generous in the way she talked with me. Sonya said exactly what she wanted, no sugarcoating, but no meanness either. Talking with her made me feel warm, comforted. I believed what she said, and I liked it.

Sonya was an office manager for a medical practice. There were five doctors, three nurses, a couple nurse assistants, and a receptionist, and she kept them all organized. I had no doubt they did what she told them too. She may have been small, she may have been skinny, and she may have had a soft Southern accent, but I could just tell that every single inch of her spine was hardened steel. I suspected even the doctors answered to her.

As the cookout broke up Sonya asked for my number, then called my phone so I'd have hers too. She also snapped a picture of me to put with my contact info. She showed it to me. My eyes were closed and I was saying something as she took it.

"You gotta take another one." I sounded whiny even to me.

Sonya laughed. "I'll take a new one next time I see you."

I don't know if she was clever or masochistic, but I took the bait regardless. "You ever been to Lindey's? I know you like steak."

"I haven't. Is it good?"

"The best. What night are you free this week?"

"Depends what else you have in mind. I work early Monday through Friday."