by S. L. Siwik
I placed my hands on his knees, leaning in to convey the importance of my plea. Looking him squarely in the eyes, I said, "I need you to help me get skinny. I need you to help me win Ryan back." It was clear to me that Ryan’s first complaint was that I didn’t work out, and I knew for a fact that my body looked nothing like the woman’s he slept with.
"No." His answer was clipped, his tone curt.
"Why not?" I asked with some desperation in my voice.
He frowned. "I'll only help you because you want this for yourself."
I couldn't understand his logic, because my head wasn't in the right frame of mind.
So, I lied and asked, "Will you help me do it to get revenge?"
He contemplated the question for a second before nodding. "For revenge? Yes." I sighed in relief, thinking about Ryan back in my arms where he belonged. Surely Brian wouldn't hold it against me when Ryan and I got back together. I was pretty sure he'd understand. "When do you want to begin?" he asked.
"The sooner, the better," I replied instantly. The faster I was thinner, the quicker we'd be back together, and everything would be fine.
"Okay, how about tomorrow?" he asked, and I nodded enthusiastically. “And tonight?"
"Can we drink?" I asked, and he stood up, walking into his kitchen. He opened up a cupboard, taking out several bottles of liquor, placing them down on the countertop where I could see them.
"What am I making for you first?" he asked, all smiles. I couldn't help but smile back. Bless his heart.
"What I always start off with," I replied, and he nodded, going back to the refrigerator to retrieve the cola required for the drink.
Perhaps it was wrong to think this, but Brian was a good-looking guy. Five feet ten inches tall with a runner's body, Brian had sandy-brown hair, green eyes, and on the weekends, facial hair. Across his right rib cage lay a tattoo that once said: Amber Forever. It now was a stalking panther. If you looked at it sideways, you could still faintly see the words from the original tattoo. But, we never talked about that anymore.
Brian and I met because my first year roommate, Amanda Giles, liked Robert Haystrom, who happened to be Brian’s first year roommate. Amanda, however, felt really nervous going alone on the date and begged for me to come with her. It was my first two weeks in NYC, I felt overwhelmed, wanted to make friends, so I agreed to a blind double date with Brian.
It was a disaster.
Actually, the chatting and getting to know each other part was incredible. We found similarities, and didn’t stop talking for three hours. My roommate, suddenly bold, looked for an excuse to make out with Rob, so I was dragged to the movies with Brian. Everything was fine, until Brian grabbed my breast and tried to stick his tongue down my throat. Apparently, he understood that going to the movies was code for making out. I was the only one who apparently didn’t get that memo. I shoved him off me roughly, grabbed my purse and hightailed it out of there. He, of course, chased after me. After stammering that I gave him mixed signals, and I screaming back that he was delusional, he apologized a million times. I refused to go back to the movie (I figured he would just try again), so he said he then wanted to make sure I got home safely. I told him to go to hell and took a cab back to my dorm calling Amanda, telling her that I was fine and that I wanted her to enjoy the rest of her date.
After that night, Brian kept showing up everywhere I was. Finally, after a week of ‘accidental run-ins,’ I confronted him. He again apologized, said he felt like an idiot for blowing things because we were having such a good time- which we had been. After I refused to go out with him again, he asked if we could be friends. He promised to never make another move on me again. I agreed.
Brian’s seduction moves improved, he matured, and the women came in droves, but he and I became best friends quickly. I have always been thankful that Amanda set me up on that date. I might never have met him otherwise even if I did endure his hand on my breast and his sloppy, wet kisses. It was worth it for our friendship. The last five years have been an incredible ride full of ups and downs that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.
I couldn’t help but feel grateful and nostalgic while ogling Brian working around the kitchen. After pouring our drinks, he turned on his iPod resting on the kitchen counter to our 'Getting Crunked' playlist full of fun drinking songs. He then walked back over with two Long Island Iced Teas.
Sitting down, Brian handed me my glass. "To revenge," he toasted, and I forced a smile before clinking my glass.
I decided that I wanted a more honest toast, so I offered, "To best friends."
Brian smiled, and repeated my toast, "To best friends," before taking a sip.
Ryan may not be my boyfriend, but Brian was still there, and that counted for a lot.
**
Four drinks later and halfway into our playlist, Brian and I played Wii as we sang loudly off-tune. This was likely a terrible idea because Brian’s T.V. was large and expensive, and we were both inebriated with blunt objects in our hands, wildly swinging the remotes about like the drunken idiots we were. I’d like to say this was the first time we attempted such a stupid idea, but it was not. Not even by a long shot. We didn’t drink together anymore, not since I began dating Ryan, but when Brian and I did get drunk and we weren’t at a bar, there were only two things that we did. One was play Wii. Two was wrestle for hours. Right now Brian’s precious ego was bruised as I handed him his rear in a game of skee-ball. I bowed theatrically while he booed loudly.
“Alright, you know the rules. Loser makes next round of drinks,” I said. It was a cheesy prize, but those were the best wins because the real prize was the bragging rights.
He groaned loudly before grabbing my glass and his. “What’ll be?”
“Surprise me!” I shouted, my hands flailing in the air.
In the span of one song that I sang poorly to, he trotted back over from the kitchen to the living room, and I didn’t even bother inspecting it or asking. I opened my mouth and let the mysterious drink pour down my throat. Wiping my mouth, I glanced up at a smiling Brian. I’m one of those super happy drunks that loved everyone and their mother, so I turned towards my friend, placing my hand on his shoulder.
“I want to thank you for doing this. You’re an incredible friend, and I’m lucky to have you in my life.”
Normally, when I thanked my friend for something, I didn’t sound like a Hallmark card, but I was already drunk. He smiled back warmly, placing his hand on my shoulder. Even though we both drank the same amount, I could tell that he was more sober than me. I swayed slightly and my hand on his arm helped to steady me.
“You would do the same for me.” His eyes grew sad for a moment before he looked at me again. “You have done it for me.”
I saw the sadness in his eyes and just like every other time, my protective instinct came out and I wanted to do anything in my power to wipe his sadness away. I didn’t want him to think about those dark times, about those moments when he wasn’t happy-go-lucky Brian. The time when I almost lost him…
“Hey, hey. None of that,” I warned him. The sadness still lingered in his eyes, so after abandoning my remote, I cupped his face. “It was a long time ago,” I whispered.
His eyes still on mine, he blurted out, “I don’t think it’s wise for you to stay at your apartment.”
I moved away fractionally, shrugging. “My name is on the lease.”
“You should put some distance between yourself and Ryan for a while. Why don’t you stay here for at least two weeks?” he suggested.
“And cramp your style? I don’t think so,” I said while plopping down on his sofa.
“You won’t be cramping my style. It’ll be great to have you around. It’d be like college again,” he quickly amended. “First and second year college.” I frowned at his need to correct himself. Brian and I were inseparable before Ryan and I met, hanging out nearly every day. “I miss those times,” he admitted.
I sighed, feeling like he was guilt
tripping me into the idea, which made no sense because it would just be an inconvenience to him.
“Can I think about it when I’m sober?” I asked.
“What’s holding you back?” he asked, sitting down next to me.
“I feel like I’m running away from the problem,” I admitted.
“You’re not. You’re giving each other space to cool down.”
I placed my head in my hands; because of my drunken state, my emotions swayed back and forth between joy and despair. The drunk me was having trouble being in denial.
“What’s really wrong?” he asked as he began rubbing my back.
I looked up at Brian, straightened myself, and admitted the truth. “I don’t want this to be over between me and him.”
He looked at me as if I was crazy, his face distorting. “You aren’t seriously suggesting that you want to get back with him.”
“No,” I wanted to say, “I can’t get back with him until I lose all the weight and fix all the other problems on his list of grievances.” Instead, I looked away mumbling, “It’s complicated.”
“How so?” he howled, exasperated.
I met his eyes as I began my drunken confession. “He’s my first, so he has to be my last. I chose him, so he is The One.”
Brian’s mouth popped open, his eyes widened. “He was your first?” I didn’t reply as I heard him mutter, “Holy crap.” Neither of us said anything for a while lost in our own thoughts. Finally, he spoke again. “Well,” he said in a confident voice. “It’s alright. You’ll soon see why you should have moved on long ago.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my entire being recoiling from the idea of moving on from Ryan.
“He is your first and only, right?” he asked and I nodded, trying to follow his train of thought. “I bet all the money in my bank account you’ll realize after sleeping with the next guy that Ryan isn’t special. You only think he’s great because you don’t have a comparison.”
Brian and I talked about everything under the sun, except details about our sex lives. It’s always been a topic left alone. He just didn’t understand. None of my friends were raised like I was. None of them even believed in organized religion.
“Let’s just drop the topic,” I stammered.
“Trust me,” he said, ignoring my request. “I’m a guy and he’s a guy. I’m telling you from a man’s opinion, there’s better out there than him.”
I didn’t want to fight with Brian, but I wanted this conversation to end quickly.
I could tell he was watching me, and he asked, “Do you want to wrestle? Get it out of your system?”
I shook my head. The drunken me was concerned that if I started wrestling with Brian, I’d lose it and might hurt him, which was the last thing I wanted-to misdirect my anger at the one person trying to help me.
It was as though he could read my thoughts, because he said, “Come on, take it out on me. You’ll feel better.”
I shook my head, not even wanting to be tempted with the notion. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Come on,” he said and pushed my arm. I shook my head, knowing he was baiting me. I wouldn’t fall for it.
“Ryan cheated on you with some tramp in your bed. Surely that angers you,” he stated before shoving me.
My hands began to tremble. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My mind was forced to replay the scene after I opened my bedroom door.
“You know what I’m talking about. He slept with that chick in your bed. He had sex with her all day.” Brian pushed me roughly.
“I don’t know that as fact,” I stammered, staring down at the wooden floor.
“You do know it as fact. He slept with her. They were F-U-C…”
He wasn’t able to finish because I screamed out like a maniac and tackled him to the floor.
“Take it back!” I straddled him, flailing my arms about in an attempt to hit him. Brian blocked my blows with ease.
“I can’t take it back. I wish I could. But he cheated on you, betrayed you, and violated your trust,” he said. Ah, Brian, my therapist. This was my friend’s way of trying to force me to deal with the situation. I had a habit of staying in deep denial when something very unpleasant happened. He seemed under the impression that once I accepted what happened, I could begin to move on from Ryan. He just didn’t understand.
“It’s no big deal. We’ll be back together soon and everything will be fine.” I still straddled him, my hands on his chest for balance.
“Like hell you are, Annie!” he shouted.
“I need to lose the weight. I need to fix the other problems. Then he’ll want me again,” I plead.
“No, Annie, he won’t want you after you lose weight or change anything else about yourself,” he replied.
The words were like a sword straight through my heart. I was surprised by the sudden pain. I returned quickly to denial.
“No! He told me why he’s unhappy! I know why! I can fix all of those things!”
Brian shook his head. “He said those things to give him an excuse for cheating, because he thought you’d believe it.”
The words hit me like a well-placed slap in the face.
I sat down next to him. “Why did he leave then? Why did he do this to us?”
Brian sighed. “Because some men are selfish pigs, Annie. Some men want everything- the loyal, beautiful girlfriend at home taking care of them, and the women on the side to satisfy any sexual desire and stroke their ego. Ryan is a worthless pig.”
I looked at Brian, whispering, “It hurts a lot, I’m afraid that I’m going to fall apart.”
“Well, if you do, I’ll glue you back together,” Brian said, sitting up. His hand rested on his knee. “So, don’t worry about it. Go ahead and fall apart. I have the glue.”
His words were like some magic sprinkled over me and at hearing his permission to lose it, I did. I sobbed wildly, and he pulled me into his embrace. He lay back down on the floor, pulling me down with him, rubbing my back, “It’s going to be okay, Annie,” he murmured in my ear.
We laid there for a long time- me crying myself out, Brian rubbing my back. I eventually heard my cell phone ringing, and when I stood up, I realized we had been lying there for over an hour.
I took my phone out of my pocketbook, reading the caller I.D.: Ben.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answered the phone.
“I’m watching this band on Bowery. They are killin’ it! George and Max are here, and I’m not taking no for an answer. So, if I have to drive to New Jersey and pick your sorry ass up, I will.” I broke out crying hysterically. “Shit! That sounds like tears. What’s wrong?” Ben asked a little panicky.
“I came home to find Ryan cheating on me. He was sleeping with this ridiculously hot girl. Then he gave me this laundry list of complaints. According to him, I was doing all these things wrong, and they’re the reason he’s unhappy in our relationship. He tells me this now…after two years.”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone, a first for Ben. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
I nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see the action through the phone.
Finally, he said, “Fuck him. There are a million more out there better than him.”
I sniffled loudly, wiping my nose.
“So, come on down and hang out with us. I’ll buy you shots and get you good and wasted.”