The Gravity of What Has Gone (7)

Five beers in, my seatmate—Naomi—asked what I was really doing here.

I stared at the little sea of foam in the bottom of my glass and told her everything. First about Jason’s visit, and his disappearance, and then about my failed company, the stupid deals I’d made, the gambles, and the time I almost cheated on Janey while she was pregnant, I’d kissed a woman at a bar and now I didn’t even remember her name, and the time I yelled at Jason after tee-ball practice until he cried, and all the times I’d wanted to kill myself and never quite could.

I talked until I was hollowed out, numb and calm, and when I looked up she was gone.

I stumbled out into the freezing night for some air and found Naomi leaning against the building, smoking. “Sorry,” she said. “I could tell after a while you weren’t exactly confessing to me.” She was right. “I wish there was something I could do for you.”

I recently did…a favor for them. This is sort of my reward.

A sweet, clear shot pierced the alcohol fog. I knew. I knew.

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