him? “Hi, I’m Nix and I’m almost divorced and I used to be a fatty and brunette and yes I’m from Guam, but I live here and yes I did an evaluation and you were my target and yes, I think you’re hot in an Edward slash Robert sort of way who I’m mildly obsessed with.”
I was going to kill Rachel the next time she was within striking distance.
To clear my mind I drove the long way home. Silver Strand was gorgeous, so I pulled into a small parking area. I blocked the impending doom of talking to someone I may or may not have a crush on out of my nervous mind. I decided that now was a good time as any to call my parents. It would be almost ten at night, but I knew their routine enough to know that they would be, damn , leaving Bradley’s parents house on a Friday night after an evening of playing cards. One of the many activities retirees do. I tried the house phone first and Pharaoh answered.
“Hey dork. It’s me.” I greeted him in my usual fashion. Pharaoh sounded tired. “Did I wake you?”
“Hey, Nix, no. I just got back from training, watching T.V. Is everything okay?” He always thought something was wrong when I called, and this time, it really was. When I thought of it, Pharaoh and Bradley, being brothers-in-law weren’t as tight as I would have liked. That didn’t matter now. Pharaoh was concerned when Bradley and I decided to stay in California after college. I invited him to try stateside life, but Pharaoh was too much of an island boy. His reputation was growing in the mixed martial arts realm and he enjoyed where he was rooted.
I took a deep breath, watching the waves roll in. Then, I told Pharaoh nearly everything, using him as a test audience of this news, before my parents would hear of it. He was quiet and listened as I gave him the abbreviated, sanitized version of things. I didn’t want to bash Bradley. I really didn’t.
“What the fuck happened?” Pharaoh seethed, I heard him breathing. “Nix, what did Bradley do?”
“Why do you assume it’s Bradley’s fault? It’s just irreconcilable differences.” I lied.
“That’s bullshit. Bradley must have done something stupid. Did he cheat?”
I never took my brother to be so concerned or intuitive. At our wedding, he just wanted to know what was on the menu and how long he had to stay at the reception. I decided to divulge the major highlights, uncensored, since he was an adult, just proven.
“Yeah, he’s decided he likes someone from his office more than me. It’s done. We’re done. We’re going to look for a military lawyer to do a clean straightforward divorce.” I kept my voice even.
“Good. That motherfucker better not cross my path because I’ll destroy him.” Tell me what you really want to do, I thought. This MMA stuff gave my brother an extra pair of balls apparently.
“Does this mean you’re moving back home?” Pharaoh asked, suddenly sounding like a little kid.
I sighed. There were so many reasons to go home and many more reasons to make a life in California work. Before I could give him a definitive answer, my mom’s loud voice pierced my inner debate on Guam versus California. But, it was my dad’s booming voice on the line first. “Phoenix, everything okay?”
I told my dad and had the same angry reaction as Pharaoh, minus all the curse words. Dad wanted to be sure I was okay. He wanted me to fly home. I told him in a few months. After I told him Rachel had spent a few days with me, he calmed down. He seemed to register my sureness of the divorce. I was so glad he didn’t tell me to “work it out.” That was something I was positive my mom would tell me to do. After
I was going to kill Rachel the next time she was within striking distance.
To clear my mind I drove the long way home. Silver Strand was gorgeous, so I pulled into a small parking area. I blocked the impending doom of talking to someone I may or may not have a crush on out of my nervous mind. I decided that now was a good time as any to call my parents. It would be almost ten at night, but I knew their routine enough to know that they would be, damn , leaving Bradley’s parents house on a Friday night after an evening of playing cards. One of the many activities retirees do. I tried the house phone first and Pharaoh answered.
“Hey dork. It’s me.” I greeted him in my usual fashion. Pharaoh sounded tired. “Did I wake you?”
“Hey, Nix, no. I just got back from training, watching T.V. Is everything okay?” He always thought something was wrong when I called, and this time, it really was. When I thought of it, Pharaoh and Bradley, being brothers-in-law weren’t as tight as I would have liked. That didn’t matter now. Pharaoh was concerned when Bradley and I decided to stay in California after college. I invited him to try stateside life, but Pharaoh was too much of an island boy. His reputation was growing in the mixed martial arts realm and he enjoyed where he was rooted.
I took a deep breath, watching the waves roll in. Then, I told Pharaoh nearly everything, using him as a test audience of this news, before my parents would hear of it. He was quiet and listened as I gave him the abbreviated, sanitized version of things. I didn’t want to bash Bradley. I really didn’t.
“What the fuck happened?” Pharaoh seethed, I heard him breathing. “Nix, what did Bradley do?”
“Why do you assume it’s Bradley’s fault? It’s just irreconcilable differences.” I lied.
“That’s bullshit. Bradley must have done something stupid. Did he cheat?”
I never took my brother to be so concerned or intuitive. At our wedding, he just wanted to know what was on the menu and how long he had to stay at the reception. I decided to divulge the major highlights, uncensored, since he was an adult, just proven.
“Yeah, he’s decided he likes someone from his office more than me. It’s done. We’re done. We’re going to look for a military lawyer to do a clean straightforward divorce.” I kept my voice even.
“Good. That motherfucker better not cross my path because I’ll destroy him.” Tell me what you really want to do, I thought. This MMA stuff gave my brother an extra pair of balls apparently.
“Does this mean you’re moving back home?” Pharaoh asked, suddenly sounding like a little kid.
I sighed. There were so many reasons to go home and many more reasons to make a life in California work. Before I could give him a definitive answer, my mom’s loud voice pierced my inner debate on Guam versus California. But, it was my dad’s booming voice on the line first. “Phoenix, everything okay?”
I told my dad and had the same angry reaction as Pharaoh, minus all the curse words. Dad wanted to be sure I was okay. He wanted me to fly home. I told him in a few months. After I told him Rachel had spent a few days with me, he calmed down. He seemed to register my sureness of the divorce. I was so glad he didn’t tell me to “work it out.” That was something I was positive my mom would tell me to do. After
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