36. MAX

Chapter thirty-six

MAX

A t first, there was shock, a numbing disbelief that left me reeling, unable to fully comprehend what had happened. Then there was just overwhelming sadness at the loss of Eddie, the sudden end of our fledgling relationship, our second chance.

In the days that followed, I checked my phone endlessly, each notification making me jump in case he had changed his mind. But it was never him. He didn't change his mind.

I found myself consumed by relentless questions. Was Eddie thinking of me? Did he share the same sense of loss? Or was he on the streets of New York, checking out other guys, not thinking of me at all?

The thought of Eddie meeting other guys sent a pang of jealousy coursing through me, a sharp sting of possessiveness that surprised me. But it was all my fault. I could not protest or moan. How could I begrudge him anything? I had allowed my weakness, my insecurity, to poison our chances.

Eventually, just a heavy sense of regret settled on me. The memory of our time together – lying in bed, yes, having sex, but just talking, laughing together, an echo of our long history – haunted me.

And then when Eddie rejected the idea that we were friends, or could be, that had cut me to the core. To hear him declare that we were not friends had been so painful. Then he asked me to leave.

We had ended up with nothing. Wow , I thought to myself.

Eddie and Max have ended up as nothing .

I immersed myself in the tasks of daily life, to try and help me shake my overwhelming sense of emptiness. Routine tasks seemed devoid of meaning but I did them all the same.

As I lay in bed at night, it was harder, though. My mind raced with thoughts of Eddie. Images of him, memories of his words, flooded my consciousness.

In the quiet and dark hours of the night, I found myself longing for him, to touch his body. I dreamed of Eddie's kiss.

I just wanted him back.

***

One evening, I decided to go back to the Rusty Nail. I wanted to square things with the barkeep and apologize. As I stepped into the dimly lit interior, I was greeted with the murmur of voices and strains of rock music whilst those TV screens lined up as ever to show which sports game. Maybe I thought everyone might turn around and gasp, but they didn't.

I made my way to the bar, but then I received a shock. There, seated down at its other end, I saw Tim.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze as our eyes met. I felt a surge of emotions within me – shame, anger, regret. But I knew I had to man up and go over to him. At that point, the barkeep appeared and said to me quietly, "You two guys better shake hands, or else I will throw you both out."

As I approached him, the weight of my actions hung heavy around me. His gaze met mine more closely, and I caught a glimpse of something akin to fear in his eyes. His whole body seemed to tense. I was not proud or pleased about that.

"Hey, Tim," I murmured.

"Max," he responded.

I paused for a moment.

"Look, man, I'm sorry," I began. "I am truly sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. It was wrong, and I regret it." Tim's eyes widened. "I'm not that person anymore. I lost my temper, and I shouldn't have."

For a moment, there was silence. And then, slowly but surely, the tension in Tim's frame began to ease. He pulled the empty stool next to him out for me to sit. I did so.

"I appreciate it, Max," he replied. "Let me buy you a beer."

I laughed.

"Tim, I think I should buy you one."

"No, man, I was in the wrong, too. I shouldn't have been a jerk to you." Tim's admission caught me off guard. "We're both to blame," he conceded. "I'll call the police station tomorrow and say I don't want to proceed."

I signaled to the barkeep and ordered two beers and offered him a drink, too. He refused and said I was welcome to stay but never to bring any trouble to his place again.

"Sure thing," I said.

As Tim and I settled into a rhythm of chatting and drinking, the tension between us dissolved entirely.

"So, how have you been?" I ventured, breaking the ice with a casual inquiry.

Tim shrugged.

"Ugh, could be better," he admitted. "Dealing with some stuff, you know how it is."

"I hear you," I replied.

Tim leaned back on his stool and took a swig of his beer.

"You know what, Max? I'm bored out of my mind. I miss my wife. I asked Tiffany if she wanted to go out sometime, and she ignored my text." He looked at me. "Did you get sick of the hunt all the time? Is that why you hung up your charmer's boots?"

I laughed.

"Charmer's boots? What the hell is that?"

"You know what I mean. You used to be notorious with the women, but now you don't seem to look for it anymore."

His words hung in the air.

"I don't want it anymore. I want something else. Something deeper."

"I had that with my wife, and I lost it," he said. "I regret it more than anything." Tim shrugged, then looked me up and down. "You're not gay, are you?" he asked. Weirdly, there was nothing negative in the question, although, of course, it was entirely inappropriate. He was asking it out of genuine curiosity.

I picked up my beer, took a swig, and put it back on the bar before getting up to leave. I grinned at him.

"I don't know what I am, I just met someone I liked," I said. "Someone I liked a lot."

Tim's response surprised me.

"Then you should cling on to him, man. Don't let him go."

I clapped my hand on his shoulder.

"You take care, Tim," I said.

He lifted his beer in a sad little toast. It probably wouldn't be near to his last of the evening, but I was done.

"You too, Max."

I walked out through the bar, a hazy blur of strangers, their boozy laughter, and made my way out onto the sidewalk. Under the yellow streetlights, I got out my phone and found Eddie in my WhatsApp chats.

"I miss you," I typed. But then I deleted the words to correct myself: "I love you."

I pressed Send, but then I remembered I had something else to say, too: "And I'm sorry."

Momentarily, he came online. I couldn't help but feel a knot of anxiety in my chest. Would he respond? And then he went offline again. I waited a minute or two, watching my screen intently. Eddie didn't come back online.

I had told him I loved him and I was sorry, and he didn't respond. That seemed pretty final.