My skin crawls every time he's around me. I hate it. I hate him. I loathe him. And yet, I can't help but wonder. What would it have been like if I had cheated on my wife instead of her cheating on me. Would I still loathe Daniel? Before I got married, we were the closest friends that friends could be - with the exception of friends turned couples. If I were a woman, or a poof, I certainly could've gone for him - THEN, at least. Not now. Not after all that he's done to me. He took my first wife, and then he tried to take Bridget back. Why couldn't he, just once, try to get me?
He still visits, of course. Probably trying to slime his way back into Bridget's pants. He's probably thinking that he was able to take one wife of mine; he'll be able to take them all. But he can't have Bridget. Not now. Not ever.
Bridget's out at the moment - with her friends having a drink somewhere, I think. I'm surprised then, when I hear a knock on the door. I'm not expecting anyone. Of course, when I answer it, I discover that it's for Bridget.
"Hi, Daniel," I say in a gruff voice.
"Darcy," he responds, looking smug. "Is Bridget home?"
If I were in the right state of mind right now, I'd feel I'd have the heart to beat the man up again.
"No," I reply, still with a serious expression on my face and hoping he'll leave.
"Good," he says, "I was wondering if I could have a word with you."
What? My guess is he wants to ask something to do with Bridget. However, I don't know what urges me to do so, but I invite him in anyway.
The lounge seems to be exceptionally hard this afternoon, but I have a feeling it has to do with me being uncomfortable around Daniel.
"What is it, then?" I ask, hoping that it won't take long so I can get back to my loathing without interruption.
"Let me take a moment," he says, "I want to get this right."
Of course, if it has got anything to do with Bridget, I suspect it'll offend me no matter what. I watch him as he tries to make himself more comfortable. I'm not really surprised that he's finding it difficult; after all, I have got the only woman he's ever been in love with. He opens his mouth and tries to speak but then holds back and thinks some more. I'm not always patient but I think that now is a fair enough time as any for me to be as I'm not quite sure I want to hear what he has to say. What if Bridget has already cheated on me with this man? It will take even longer for me to forgive him, and I still haven't yet.
When he opens his mouth a second time, words are actually emitted. "I'm jealous," he states.
Well of course he's jealous, I know he wants Bridget.
"And?" I ask, prompting him to continue - that can't be all he's come to tell me.
"I don't think you understand - I'm not jealous of you." That doesn't make sense, but before I can get a word in, he continues. "I'm jealous of Bridget."
Jealous of Bridget? "Why are you telling me this?" I ask. I mean really, what has he got to be jealous of Bridget for?
"I...I don't know," he mutters, almost so silently that I can barely understand what he's said.
I want to ask him why he's jealous of Bridget, but I can't seem to make myself do it. We sit in silence for a few moments - he now has his face in his hands and it appears to me like he's trying to hold back tears. I can't imagine why, really.
"You don't get it, do you?" he asks finally, lifting up his head so his eyes burn into mine.
"No, I don't," I say honestly.
He opens his mouth again but pauses before speaking, "I'm jealous of Bridget because she has you." And then his face returns to his hands.
Only then does it hit me - finally, he wants me. He wants me like only a man could want another man. I then have to wonder if he's ever wanted a man before me. He's been around, I know he's had a lot of women, but I don't know if he's ever had a man. I resist the urge to ask, however.
"Look at me," I say to him, and he lifts up his face again and looks at me.
Tears are now rolling down his cheeks - in all the years that I've known him, I've never seen him cry. It must've taken him great courage to tell me what he did. He looks so weak and vulnerable, sitting on the lounge with watery eyes. Then something happens that I never could've predicted. I lean over to him and suddenly feel his warm lips on mine. He's got such a nice taste but I can hear my mind trying to tell me that I'm cheating on Bridget. I'm cheating on her just as she thought I'd cheated on my previous wife. Then my heart kicks in - I think it's my heart at least - it could be my penis. Everything happens so fast, too fast for my mind to even comprehend what's going on. It's not until it's over and I see myself lying naked on my wedding bed with a naked Daniel, asleep.
Bridget will probably be home soon, too, I realise, looking over at the clock on the bedside table. I only hope she and her friends stay a little longer and doesn't find me like this. I look over at Daniel; his back is facing the ceiling and a sheet covering most of his backside. I try to figure out the best way to wake him and get him out of the house. Then I think that perhaps it would be better if I got dressed first so if Bridget does come home before he's gone, I may still be able to get away with it.
Too late. The bedroom door opens and Bridget's head emerges from it. I must've been too lost in my own thoughts to hear the door being unlocked and opened when she arrived home. Then her poofy friend's head emerges. Surely he would've made a noise that I would've heard. But no, I'm caught red handed. There's no denying what happened, it's plainly obvious.
"Mark?" she asks in almost a whisper.
It was like she could barely find the voice to say anything. I swallow and fear the worst, and then...
Suddenly, I'm sitting at the kitchen table with my right cheek lying on a newspaper, Bridget's face looking at mine. It was a dream. It was all a dream. I must've fallen asleep when I was thinking about how much I loathe Daniel. Thankfully my dreams will always stay just that - dreams.
© January 2002