important clients to remember my goals and my mission. My grandfather and my mother had plans for me. If I dedicated myself to the firm, I’d be the one leading it when they retire.
Is it killing me to let Leyla go?
That’s debatable.
My heart stopped working when I decided to get a divorce. Technically I’ve been dead since I said the words out loud and pulled the plug on our relationship. Logic dictates that I release her from whatever it is that we have together. She wants a life I can never give her. It’s not in my nature. If there is something she deserves, it’s happiness.
Does it kill me to think that she’ll find a guy who will give her what I can’t?
I’m already dead, so who cares?
She’s making everything more difficult for us.
Just sign the fucking papers, and let’s be done with it!
As if I don’t have plenty of shit to deal with, my father’s lawyer leaves a stupid message, “Your father is dying. Come see him as soon as possible.”
My sensible wife wants me to find closure and try to fix myself. That’s her solution to everything. It surprises me that she never suggested couples counseling for us. I shouldn’t be angry that she gave up on us too soon.
Now, she wants me to fix my shit with the dead man walking. It’s not easy. She'd understand if she knew more about the situation. But then, I’d have to explain to her more than I did on Friday for her to understand that it’s pointless. Even with that, I’m pretty sure she would try to persuade me to fly to New York.
I check the time; it’s past eleven. This is when she usually arrives to visit the kids on Sundays, but she’s not here yet. Is she avoiding me?
Yes, you horny asshole. You couldn’t keep your fucking dick in your pants. But I needed her so much. She’s the only person who makes me feel something more than anger, sadness, and fear.
I can’t help myself when she’s around. Not having sex is like saying we should stop breathing. That might be the solution, to stop breathing the same air as her. To move far away from her so I stop needing her so much.
When my phone rings, I answer right away. It could be Leyla stranded, or worse, calling me because she was in an accident. I’m surprised when the people who are on the screen are my brothers, Hayes and Henry.
“Yes?” I answer, trying to read if this is an emergency or some kind of brotherly call.
Are they close enough that they spend weekends together?
“Always in a good mood, just like Henry,” Hayes complains as he rolls his eyes.
“What do you need, Hayes?” I ask, watching the gate and hoping that Leyla comes through. I am praying that she’s okay.
“William died yesterday,” Henry states.
I scrub my face with my free hand and sigh. Hayes doesn’t wait for me to say anything. He tells me that we need to be in Baker’s Creek.
“I’m too busy to deal with any family affairs,” I say, stopping him from going any further.
My life is work. If I don’t go to celebrate my anniversary, mother’s birthday, or any other festivity, why should I have time for a guy who never cared for me?
“You’re not the only one who has to work.” Henry glares at me. “I get it, Pierce. You don’t give a fuck about him—me neither. However, we have to see this through at least and close that chapter.”
Please don’t tell me this guy is now the subscriber of yoga, some granola therapist, and meditation. I can only have one of those in my life.
“So what if you miss a weekend at the slopes?” Hayes argues, studying the screen. “Where are you? Aspen?”
“My life isn’t any of your business,” I reply vaguely.
He doesn’t need to know that I live in the foothills, and we get a decent amount of snow that doesn’t melt until June.
“Baker’s Creek is a place I would rather avoid. I don’t want to attend his funeral. Who cares about his last wishes? He never cared about any of my wishes. Nothing he leaves me is worth the trouble.”
There’s some commotion on the other side, and I wonder what’s happening until I hear a third voice, “Great, fucker one and two are here. We’re having a fucking family reunion. Where are the rest?”
“Who is that?” I ask, hating that I’m not there, and I can’t see shit.
Someone moves