Once In Awhile
By: Forlay
She don't want to call you
Speaking on the telephone
And once in your life
She don't want to know you.
Look around.
The one you found,
She is gone.
--Once In Awhile "Rocky Horror Show"
Jake
She was gone. Really
gone, this time. I wasn't going to get any more second chances.
Like all dramatic stories,
it was a dark and stormy night. I was driving home from a meeting with
some of the country's top military advisors. I had the radio playing to
drown out the monotony of the rain on the windshield, and the constant
beat of the windshield wipers.
Between song sets,
the DJ came on with the news. I didn't pay much attention, until I heard
the word 'Animorph.' I figured Marco was up to something again, so I turned
up the volume.
". . . Cassie Rubin
announced her engagement today to Ronnie Masters, a colleague. . . ."
I stopped listening.
Engagement?
I stopped paying
attention to everything but my own thoughts at that moment.
Cassie. My Cassie.
Engaged.
Of course, she wasn't
my Cassie anymore. She hadn't been for a long time. But. . . engaged? I
could hardly believe it.
I snapped out of my
reverie when the dark highway began to light up with city lights. I glanced
at the clock. It was after midnight; I'd been driving without a purpose
for over two hours.
Almost as scary as
the prospect of Cassie's marriage.
I'd driven past my
own home a long time ago. I should have turned around then to go back,
but the car seemed to have a mind of its own. Or maybe the news had just
sapped me of my own will.
Why hadn't Cassie told
me she was engaged? I'd met this Ronnie guy once, I was pretty sure, but
Cassie hadn't said anything about them being serious enough to consider
marriage.
The next thing I knew,
I'd pulled into the driveway of a large, familiar house. The car seemed
to have a mind of its own, but I didn't mind stopping here. The house was
dark, but I was sure Marco wouldn't mind the late night visit. If he was
home, of course.
Marco
I woke up with a start
when the doorbell rang. I'd been sleeping restlessly all night; I think
it was the storm. I'd never slept well during thunderstorms. It's one of
my dark secrets.
I looked at my alarm
clock. The red numbers showed it was almost one. Who the hell would be
at my door at one in the morning?
The bell rang again
and I threw the covers off. I groped for the switch on my lamp then, squinting
in the sudden brightness, found my robe and shrugged into it as I stumbled
from my room towards the front door.
The doorbell rang a
third time just as I reached the door. I quickly tied the belt on the robe,
then pulled the door open. I normally used the intercom, then checked the
peephole, but I was too tired to go through all those security measures.
No assassin was going to come to my door at one in the morning during a
hurricane.
An ominous flash of
lightening illuminated my front porch just long enough for me to recognize
the figure standing there. "Jake?!"
"Hi, Marco," he replied
flatly. "Can I come in?"
"Sure." I stepped back
to let him in, flipping on the hall light as I did so. "What are you doing
here, man?"
Jake shrugged his dripping
shoulders. "I don't know. I really don't. I was on my way home, then I
heard the news. . . did you hear? About Cassie?"
Shit. I didn't like
the sound of that. "What happened?" I prepared for the worst.
"She's engaged."
I stood still for a
moment, still waiting for the big announcement. Then I realized that was
all Jake was going to say. "Oh. Um. Wow." Way to be articulate, Marco.
"Hey, why don't you come in. Go take a shower, I'll put your clothes in
the wash. I'll, uh, try to find something dry for you. And we'll talk,
okay?" Jake nodded, then silently followed me to the bathroom.
I left Jake to his
shower while I dug through my closet and dresser for clothes that'd fit
Jake. I found a couple of possibilities, and set them just inside the bathroom
door for Jake, then went back to my room to find suitable clothes for myself.
Half an hour later,
Jake met me down in the kitchen. His hair was still wet, but he didn't
look like a half drowned puppy anymore. The T-Shirt was a bit tight, and
the jeans a bit shorter than was fashionable, but he looked a little better
than he had when he'd appeared on my doorstep.
Can I get you anything?"
I offered when he sat down across from me at the table. "Coffee? A Coke?"
"Have any beer?"
I was surprised. Jake
wasn't usually the drinking type. But the news of Cassie's engagement was
obviously hard on him. Once wouldn't hurt. I got a bottle for each of us
out of the fridge and brought them back to the table.
"Did you have any idea?"
Jake asked as he popped the lid of on the edge of the table.
I opened mine the same
way. I knew what he was talking about. "Cassie and I don't talk much. I
don't even know who she's been dating."
"Some guy named Ronnie.
He works with her."
Normally I'd have made
some witty comment about an office romance and how rarely they last, but
Jake definitely wasn't in a joking mood. Besides, we both knew Cassie would
agree to marry someone unless she was sure it'd work.
"I proposed to her
once," Jake said softly before taking a gulp of beer.
I nearly spit mine
out. "What?" I managed to gasp.
Jake nodded. "Just
before the. . . well, before. I asked her to marry me. She said maybe.
After."
I don't know which
surprised me more. That Jake had proposed at 17, or that he hadn't told
me about it until now.
"She never actually
answered me. After. We just. . . drifted apart."
If it wouldn't have
been kind of weird, I'd have hugged Jake then. He had the pathetic puppy
look about him again. But we'd never been big on hugging. Besides, my relationship
with Jake in the last couple of years had gotten to be sort of. . . complicated.
Jake took a huge gulp
of his beer. "Have anymore?"
I welcomed the chance
to focus on something besides Jake. This late night visit was dredging
up memories and emotions I'd hoped were forgotten.
We drank in silence
for a few minutes before Jake spoke again. "Why don't you think she told
either of us?"
I shrugged, careful
to avoid eye contact with Jake. "Like I said, she and I haven't talked
much. And with
you. . . I don't know. Maybe she just
wasn't ready to deal with all the bagged that'd come with telling you something
this big."
"It just doesn't seem
like her."
"I know, Jake. I know."
After another silence,
Jake asked for his third beer. I wanted to say no but there really wasn't
any harm in it. He certainly wasn't about to drive home. And when a guy
finds out the love of his life is marrying another guy, he has the right
to drown his sorrows. God knows I've done that more than once.
"Why don't we take
these in the living room," I suggested, holding up his beer and my own.
"It's more comfortable."
Jake shrugged, then
stood. I led the way.
Jake sat in sullen
silence while nursing his beer. His eyes were beginning to take on a drunken
glazed look. Since I've never been a fan of awkward silences, I began babbling
to fill it, telling Jake about my newest TV and movie projects and, by
a slip of the tongue, romances.
". . . met this really
awesome guy, Simon, while on the set. We went out for dinner -" I practically
bit my tongue in my haste to shut up when I realized what I was saying.
Surely Jake didn't want to hear about my love life.
But either he didn't
hear, didn't care, or didn't catch the significance of the dinner reference.
Or that's what I thought until, after a moment of silence, Jake asked,
"Have you ever seriously liked, maybe even loved, someone, Marco? I read
about the never ending supply of girl- and boyfriends, but I don't know
how many of those are true, or how serious they are."
Oh boy. I should have
kept my mouth shut.
I was tempted to lie.
But what kind of person lies to his best friend? Besides, I could feel
the booze loosening my tongue. "Um, there was one guy. . . awhile ago now.
Nothing ever happened between us but. . . he was the first guy I ever really
felt anything for." Had I meant that? Yeah. Had I meant to say all
that? Not really.
But Jake looked interested,
for the first time that night. "Yeah?"
I shrugged. "Really,
there isn't much else to say. It never would have worked, so I didn't seriously
pursue it."
Jake looked a little
disappointed that I wasn't sharing all the details, but didn't push it
any farther. I breathed a sigh of relief. Jake wasn't in a state to hear
the whole story.
Because, of course,
Jake was the 'one guy' of the story. A twist on the 'unrequited crush on
the best friend' plot. I don't know how Jake would take the news that I
had a huge crush on him at one point, and still harbored a small one. Especially
now, when he was harboring his own heartbreak. Jake's great, but is, unfortunately,
one of the straightest guys I know.
We finish our beers
while making small talk. Jake tells me a little about the military work
he's doing, but there's not too much he can say, as a lot is Top Secret.
By three o'clock, the
storm outside is diminishing and Jake is half asleep. I was about to offer
to take him up to the guest room, when he leaned over and rested his head
on my shoulder, either passed out or fast asleep.
Shit.
Despite tabloid reports
to the contrary, I pride myself on my self control. I've never been stoned
or high, never been completely drunk, and I've never taken advantage of
someone sexually. Despite the number of times it's been tempting.
Now was one of those
times. Nothing big, but how easy it'd be to sneak a quick kiss. . . .
I stop myself, just
as Jake shifts position. I freeze and stare at him as he wakes and blinks
at me. "I fell asleep?"
"Just for a minute.
Come on, I'll take you to a bedroom." Jake nods and I help him off the
couch and lead him to the nearest guest room.
Jake
The room Marco led
me to was large and luxurious. If this was a guest room, Marco's own room
must have been the size of a small apartment.
I bounced a little
on the edge of the bed while Marco stood awkwardly in the center of the
room. "Uh, anything else you need?"
I thought for a moment,
the beer having slowed me down. "No. Thanks." Feeling about ready to pass
out, I laid down. Marco nodded and left, turning the light out as he went.
But tired as I was,
the moment the light was out my brain kicked in to overdrive and wouldn't
let me sleep.
I couldn't forget what
Marco had said, about the first guy he liked. I hardly remembered asking
the question that led to the revelation; I certainly hadn't expected any
sort of answer. Marco seems like the sort of guy destined for life long
bachelorhood. Of course, with the answer he gave me, that could still be
true. I certainly knew how unrequited love went.
My overactive, half
drunk mind wouldn't leave the subject of Marco's love life alone. For want
of anything better to do, I kept trying to figure out who the 'one guy'
was. But trying to remember the boyfriends Marco had had didn't do much
good because Marco had said nothing had happened between them.
And suddenly clues
began locking into place. A furtive glance when I walked into the kitchen
wearing the small clothes. Tensing when I'd fallen half asleep on his shoulder.
Hundreds of seemingly innocent, but flirtatious, comments over the years.
"Holy shit," I muttered.
I might have been dead tired and slightly drunk, but Marco was still my
best friend and I often knew him better than he knew himself. I had a pretty
good idea now who he was talking about, but I had a feeling I wasn't going
to sleep until I knew for sure.
I'd only been in Marco's
house a few times before, usually when it was light and I was sober, but
I managed to find Marco's bedroom after only a few wrong turns. When I
found it, I knocked lightly on the door.
"Huh?" was Marco's
muffled reply. I took it as an invitation and stepped in.
Marco turned on his
bedside lamp when I entered. I'd been right: his room was the size of an
apartment. "Jake? You need something?"
I shook my head, but
said, "It's me, isn't it?"
Marco looked shocked,
and started to speak, but stopped before he actually said anything. "Yeah,"
he finally admitted. "How'd you know?"
I shrugged. "Mind if
I come in?"
Marco looked nervous.
"I don't know, Jake. . . ."
I stepped in and sat
on the foot of his bed.
"Jake? I really think
you should go back to your room. We can talk in the morning. When we're
both sober and had time to think stuff over."
I wracked my brain,
trying to come up with an excuse to stay. "I. . . I'm not sure I can get
back to my room. Your house is too big." Did that sound as lame to him
as it sounded to me?
Marco stared at me,
trying to figure me out, I'm sure; if I was telling the truth. I half expected
a gruff "fuck you," and the light to be snapped off, but instead Marco
got out of bed, wearing just his boxers, and led me back to my room.
"Go to sleep," Marco
instructed as we stood in the doorway. "We'll talk in the morning."
I nodded, but neither
of us moved otherwise.
Marco whispered something
under his breath. It sounded like, "I'm going to regret this," but the
next thing I knew his arms were around my neck, pulling me down so he could
kiss me easier. Hesitantly at first, but then as he realized I wasn't resisting,
harder.
In the handful of relationships
I've had, I was always the leader. In everything. From paying for dinner
to sex. But in this case I had no idea what to do, or even what I wanted
to do. For once I was more than happy to let Marco push me back to the
bed.
It was a strange night.
Marco taught me, step by step, what I was supposed to do, though I always
felt I was messing something up. Marco never let it show if I did, though.
It's almost dawn when
Marco falls asleep, spooned behind me on the bed. Sleep doesn't come as
easily to me, though my head is pounding from booze, excitement and lack
of sleep.
The clock reads six
in the morning. It's been just eight short hours since I'd learned that
the woman I thought was the love of my life is marrying another man. Now.
. . well, I don't know where I stand with Marco. What if he wakes up, completely
freaked out by tonight's events? What if I freak out as soon as
I wake up enough to really grasp all that's happened? Can I handle something
like that?
Marco shifts, and slides
an arm over my stomach, keeping me close, and I feel a warm shiver spread
through my body. It seems my body's made a decision without informing my
mind.
