The Forest for the Trees

Three days off with Jamie was exactly what I needed to get my head right back in the game and my life right back on track. In fact, we had such a great time together that I was ready to invite John and Maria out for dinner, on me, the second we got back. And then I found out that John was out of town. Maria said he had a last-second signing scheduled, but I asked Jamie about it and she seemed oblivious. Maybe because she was with me, but usually she's in the loop about all our publicity shit. Especially me and John's. So I'm not sure what's going on with him, and that kind of bothers me.

Look, I give John a lot of shit. And we're dudes, so we don't hug on each other and talk about how much we love each other all time. Truth is, you only really know things are good between us when we're really raggin' on each other. But not knowing where he is, and not having him here where I thought he was supposed to be, kind of throws me off. Not that I'll tell him that. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't, either.

When the locker room door flies open, two days after we return from vacation, I can't help bein' a little excited to see John walk through. His demeanor seems pretty normal, but he only shakes my hand and doesn't really say much as he starts to unpack his bag. Something's off about him right now, and I don't like that I don't know what it is.

The great thing about my friendship with John, though, is that I don't even have to ask the questions that are plaguing me. He knows I'm gonna ask, so he does the work for me. "Went to LA for a couple days," he answers, shrugging as though it's nothing while he pulls his shoes from his bag. "I, uh, went for an evaluation at a rehab clinic," he admits, his voice hushed just above a whisper.

"What?" I know it's probably not supportive to sound so surprised, but it's really the last thing I ever thought I would hear come out of my friend's mouth. If I know anything about John, it's that he swears he doesn't have a problem. At least, I thought I knew that.

Dropping his shoe back into the bag, he rests his hands on his hips and looks at me. Almost like he thinks I'm going to challenge him or something. "I don't know, man," he sighs, and I see that he's not defiant. He's defeated. Or hopeless. I don't know. It's weird. He just seems kinda . . . sad. "Maria keeps pushin' this whole alcohol thing, so I told her I'd have it checked out."

He goes right back to unpacking his shit, and I don't really know how I'm supposed to respond. I guess I'm just supposed to say whatever I think, but I really don't know what I think about it. "Where'd you go?" I ask, dropping to the chair in front of my locker to start taping my wrist.

For once, a smirk cracks his lips and he winks. "PRC," he says, nodding as though I should know what that means. When it's clear that I don't, he rolls his eyes like I'm hopeless. What? Like I'm a rehab expert? "Pasadena Recovery Center," he explains. I nod, but I think he can still tell that I don't know what that means. "Tatum's place."

Oh. And I was doing so good at not thinking about her. At thinking about Jamie. And my life with Jamie. My girlfriend. "You see her?" I ask, against my better judgement. Ya know what, though? That's good, right? I mean, that John saw Tatum, that's good. If anybody knows how addiction can fuck up a relationship, it should be Tatum. And that sounded really bitter. Damn. "What'd she say?"

His grin only broadens. "Said you looked good the other night, man," he says, unzipping his shorts, only to slip into another pair of the same damn shorts. He's not exactly a clothes horse, Cena's not.

Though a shot jolts through my ego, I just shake my head and meet his eye with a firm look of my own. "I meant about your drinking, dumb ass."

"She said she doesn't think I have a problem yet," he begins to explain, though the way he's squintin' at me makes it seem like maybe he doesn't believe me. "But if I don't start workin' on my shit with Maria, I'm gonna have one. Says I can't keep drinking to solve our problems, because it won't solve anything." With a shrug, he dropped into his own chair and kicked his high top tennis shoes onto the floor. "The usual, I guess."

She's right. That advice is pretty damn accurate. Not that I think Tatum would give John anything but solid advice. Still, it's a little awkward to see that she's offering help to other people. I mean, she told me about it the other night, but that was kind of theoretical, ya know? Now she's dishin' out counseling to our friends, and it's good advice. That's weird for me, and I'm not sure why. Maybe I'll get back to you on that.

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

John's quiet for a long time, busying himself with suiting up. But then he stands from his chair and rests his hands on his hips. "Every time I sit Maria down to talk about what's buggin' me, she starts talkin', and I just wanna," he stops, his fists balling and relaxing at his sides. "Ugh," he finishes the sentence. "I just can't take it anymore, ya know? I just want some space sometimes, ya know?"

And suddenly, it all becomes clear. "And she leaves you alone when you drink."

"Not at first," he chuckles and shakes his head slowly. "She bitches and nags and pisses me off. But then she backs off, and I get some fucking peace and quiet for once." He sounds angry, but I don't think that he means to. I think he's just frustrated.

I guess I can't blame him. I mean, if you think about it, it kinda makes sense. I know that John loves Maria, but dammit if they don't see each other every fucking day. When they're working, when they're not. When they're at home, when they're not. To be honest, I wasn't sure that John would date her for more than a couple of months, let alone three years. And then he asked her to marry him, and I thought they'd never make it down the aisle. They're crazy in love with each other, but is that always enough? Especially when that person never leaves you the fuck alone?

At least with me and Jamie, our jobs are different. Sure, we work for the same company, but we don't see each other all the time. Sometimes she's with me on the road. Sometimes she's back in Stamford, at the offices. Sometimes she's traveling with other talent. I get breaks. She gets breaks. We have lives outside of each other. I guess that's more important than I thought it was, huh?

Finally standing from my seat, I jump up and down a few times to get my blood flowing. I don't wanna push him, or say anything that he doesn't want to hear, but if I can't tell my best friend what he doesn't really like, who can I tell? "It's kind of a dangerous way to get some quiet, though, don't ya think?"

He just smirks. "That's what Tate's boyfriend said, too."

Tate's boyfriend? Oh, right. The doctor. Her married boyfriend. Forgot about him. "Well," I pat a hand against his shoulder and then go back to my light warm up, "I'm glad you talked to somebody about it, man. I hope that works out for ya."

"You hope it works out for me?" John mocks. "That's all you've got to say to me?"

To tell you the truth, I don't know what to say to him. Not that I meant for it to, but that quip about Tatum's boyfriend kinda made me nauseous. Not that it matters, but I don't like the idea of her sleepin' with some married dude who's not gonna treat her right. "What do you want me to say?" I shrug, as though it's really not that bigga deal.

John throws a right hook into my gut that stops my stretching with a grunt. "How 'bout you ask me what Tatum said about you?" he offers, laughing when I clutch the place where his fist just landed.

Fucker. "Because I know her well enough to know that she wouldn't say shit to you, man," I assure him. Tatum's not much of a talker, especially to people she's not incredibly close to. She might maybe talk to Maria, but not John. Not a chance. "I'm happy, man. Just . . . let it go, alright?"

John nods his head and checks the chirping Trio in his pocket. "She still loves you. You know that, right?" he questions, quickly typing a response to the text he just received.

"It doesn't fucking matter, man," I explode without warning. To be honest, I didn't even expect it, but he's starting to piss me off. I am with Jamie. And I am happy with Jamie. Tatum is with her married boyfriend, and she's happy with him. Why can't people just leave well enough a-fucking-lone? "So we fucking kissed the other night? It didn't mean anything! It was just a stupid kiss."

John looks surprised, but I'm pretty sure not as shocked as I look. I didn't mean to tell him, or anyone. Ever. I didn't even intend to think about it again. In fact, I haven't been thinking about it. And until that moment when it came flying out of my mouth, it wasn't even on my mind now. What the hell, man?

And, as if he wasn't just the bumbling, stumbling alcoholic two seconds ago, the all-knowing John is back with his hands on his hips and that 'I know you better than you know yourself' expression on his face. "Just a kiss, huh?" he asks, and I wanna punch him in the face.

But that would give him the satisfaction of thinking it was more than a kiss. And it wasn't. Isn't. Can't be. We were a train wreck when we were together, and we're both healthy and happy apart. This is the best thing for both of us. We're just better apart.

I open my mouth to tell John just that, but he does that stupid mind reading thing again. "Things change, man." Shaking his head, he starts for the door, calling of his shoulder, "Things change," just before the door slams shut.

He's right. Some things change. Just not this one.