I Loved You Wednesday by David Marlow Page B

what’s coming.”
    “Me neither. You know what happens when I start one of my uncontrollables. Pow! Harold thought I was freaking out.”
    “What’d he do?”
    “He apologized profusely for coming too soon and promised he’d get it up again if only I’d stop crying. Seems he’s got very thin walls and very thick neighbors.”
    “Then what?”
    “The rest is pretty sloppy. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
    “Shoot.”
    “Okay. Well, Harold stood on his knees on the bed,whipped out his beef and started playing with himself, trying to get another erection.”
    “Nothing tops a class act. And?”
    “And I started laughing hysterically.”
    “Then what?”
    “Then Harold got an erection.”
    “And?”
    “And I told him to go into the bathroom and masturbate because somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d lost the mood.”
    “And?”
    “And Harold went into the bathroom and did himself.”
    “Then what?”
    “Then I stopped laughing and started crying again because by this time Tiny Tim was going to lose his leg if Scrooge didn’t come forth with some charity.”
    “Go on.”
    “Then Harold came out of the bathroom, exhausted. It had been quite an active evening for him. So we watched the rest of the movie and went to sleep.”
    “Nothing like a traditional Christmas Eve, huh?”
    “Right.” There’s a short pause before Chris sheepishly asks, “Steve?”
    “What?”
    “What do you mean ‘we’?”
    “What do I mean ‘we’ what?”
    “I told you we watched A Christmas Carol and you said, ‘So did we.9 “
    “Did I? Aha.” I toss off a short laugh. “Oh. Well, I meant me and Corie.”
    “You were with someone last night?”
    “Yes.”
    “You had sex?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I was going to. It was no big deal. I promise you, Chris, we both would have been better off with the parakeet.”
    “Or even each other.”
    “Or even each other.”
    “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas, darling.”
    The next time I speak with Chris is New Year’s Day. It goes something like this: “Hello?”
    “Happy New Year, Chris!”
    “Steve!”
    “Right!”
    “Happy New Year, darling!” “How’re things?” “Wonderful!”
    “Why?” I ask demurely, knowing very well why.
    “Guess!”
    “Guess?!”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. Um, someone called?” “Yes.”
    “Someone you were happy to hear from?” “Yes.”
    “Can I assume it wasn’t someone holding a gun to your forehead?” “Yes.”
    “Okay. Um, let’s see . . . Bradley??” “Yes!”
    “Surprised?” “Yes!” “Happy?” “Yes!”
    “And miserable?” “Yes.”
    “Both at the same time?” “Yes.”
    “Did he want to see you?” “Yes.”
    “Did you want to see him?” “Yes.”
    “Did he ask you out?” “Yes.”
    “Did you accept?” “Yes.”
    “And then did you break it?” “Yes.”
    “And then were you sorry?” “Yes. How’d you know?”
    “What do you mean, how’d I know? I know you, that’s how I knew.” “Yes?”
    “Of course. Once you accepted the date, Chris, which is what you really wanted to do, the side of you in constant battle with the rest of you made you see how you could only get hurt in this kind of setup, so you changed your mind.” “Yes!”
    “Congratulations. I couldn’t be more pleased. That was a healthy, logical move. Weren’t you proud?” “Yes!”
    “And wasn’t that a wonderful feeling?” “Yes.”
    “Which lasted a very short time?” “Yes.”
    “And was ultimately taken over by a good solid case of the yuckies?” “Yes.”
    “And so you called him back and fixed the date you broke?” “Yes.”
    “And so you saw him?” “Yes.”
    “And had a fabulous time. One of the best.” “Yes.”
    “And then when he left, you got even more depressed than you were before he had arrived.” “Yes.”
    “And then you were sorry he ever came over in the first place.” “Yes.”
    “And vowed never to see him again.”