SUNSHINE BLASTS FROM THE SKY, desperate to make up for running from the rain yesterday. I hurry into the crowded coffee shop. Sweat beads on my temple. My blazer sticks to my skin.
The bell above the door jangles loudly. Curious eyes dart to me.
A surveying glance. A quick sweep.
Most customers look away, eyes dropping back to their phones or their laptops. But a few stares linger on my face. Women giggle behind their hands. Red and pink lips stretch over pale faces and eyes that glitter with attraction.
I’ve learned a lot about women since college. Growing up, I thought they preferred guys with swagger. Guys with the biggest house. The fattest checks. The loudest in the room.
But that’s not always the case. I’ve seen women go crazy over mature men who barely open their mouths. Men who don’t feel the need to drop names. Who don’t flash their luxury brands because the clothes are lucky to be on them and not the other way around.
As I grew older, I started to fit that bill and women flocked to me. It’s been good for my ego.
Not so good for my marriage.
My eyes catch on a woman sitting in the corner. She gives me a shy smile before looking away. A moment later, she looks back. Smiles again.
I fight the ego swelling inside me. I’m wearing my formal business attire today. Crisp white shirt. Black blazer. Pressed slacks. Expensive watch. I’ve got an important meeting later and came dressed to impress.
“Excuse me,” a cute woman with tan skin and short, bob-length hair turns to me, “you can go ahead.”
“I’m okay.” I smile politely.
She tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. Classic sign of nervous intent. Her eyes dart to me and back to the ground. “Can I ask what cologne you’re using? It smells amazing.”
She’s flirting with me, and my first instinct is to flirt back. I take a moment. Let in a deep breath.
Don’t follow this thread, Jerrison. You won’t like where it leads.
It’s a fight to stay focused.
To keep my hands at my sides.
To stop from reciprocating interest.
I hate the impulse that jumps so easily from me. I love my wife.
I do.
But it’s easier to date Harriet than to change the way I think.
I clear my throat. “I’m going to have to ask my wife. She’s the one who bought it for me.”
“I’m sorry.” The woman turns red. “I didn’t mean to be weird or anything.”
I like a little weird, sweetie. Why don’t I buy you a drink? The words burst to the tip of my tongue.
My mouth opens.
Closes.
I hear Doc in my head, telling me the commandments of marriage. I hear lectures about commitment and communication, prioritizing my wife, and being sensitive to what she needs.
It’s your responsibility, even if it isn’t your fault.
I’m an athlete with a pudgy stomach and no discipline. I’m legs sprawled on the sofa after a Netflix binge. I’m fingers dusted in cheese chips and lips smacking thirstily for a tiny sip of soda after a couple weeks of cleaning up my diet.
No one told me a mindset shift would hurt like this. The line moves.
“Sorry.” She whirls around and shuffles forward.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pry my old thoughts off me. It’d be so easy to slip into old habits. In fact, it’s my default impulse and stopping
cold is tougher than anything else.
Is this effort even worth it?
I’m thoughtful when I accept my coffee and drive to Harriet’s apartment. I decide not to let her know I’m coming. She’s too perceptive. She’ll take one look at me and know I wavered.
I leave my gifts on the door of her apartment and text her as I head down the stairs. After I press ‘send’, I get a call.
My heart thumps, thinking it’s my wife. But it’s not.
It’s Ashley.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Should I answer?
I hesitate for a second until I finally hit ‘ignore’.
On the way to work, I think about how close I came to answering her call. Am I being tested or something? It feels like there’s a target on my back. A bet to see if I’ll give in to temptation. The girls at the cafe and now Ashley? Something’s up. Where are the cameras? Doc must be following me.
Thinking about the old man makes it easier to focus. When Ashley calls again, I don’t hesitate to cancel the call and block her number too.
At my office, I get a text from Harriet. My lips tug up immediately.
I haul out my phone in the elevator.
WIFEY: Thanks for breakfast. ME: What are you doing tonight? WIFEY: Probably working. Why?
ME: Make time for me. I want to take you somewhere.
She doesn’t respond and I assume she’s dealing with customers at the bakery.
I tap out of Harriet’s message.
Beneath her text, there’s a new notification.
“Cindy?” I frown at my ex’s not-so-subtle invitation to meet for drinks. My thumb hovers on the DELETE button.
Something stops me.
You’re being ridiculous, Jerrison. No one is filming you and no one will know. What if you just meet her? Just dinner. It’s not like Harriet owns you.
The elevator doors open.
I remain in place, a finger to my bottom lip.
How do you show your wife you’re committed to her? Doc’s voice is there again, the line in the sand. I can cross it if I want to. I can jump right over it and do whatever the hell I wish, but I can’t move over that line in ignorance. If I step across, it’ll be because I know exactly what I’m doing. What I’m giving up.
I weigh the cost with the technology Doc gave me.
You hurt me, Jerrison.
My heart pinches.
It’s an easy decision to make.
With a flick of my finger, I delete Cindy’s number. Then I block her for good measure.
“J!” Patrick interrupts me when I scroll back to Harriet’s message. His big paws clamp on my shoulders, jerking me forward. My phone almost skitters out of my hand.
“Watch it, Pat.” I scowl at him, tucking my phone into my pocket for safekeeping.
“Let’s talk about last night, bro.” Laughter rings beneath his words. “You’ve got to tell me what that was about.”
“I meant what I said.” “What exactly did you say?”
“I’m not covering for you anymore.” I stare straight ahead, my eyes on the hallway.
Patrick’s jaw hits the floor. “What’s the problem?”
“Pat, I’ve got a meeting I need to prepare for. Can we do this later?”
Patrick follows me to my office anyway. “You’re telling me you really meant that crap about not covering for me?”
“Yeah, I did.”
His lips curl into a hard sneer. “That’s rich. Especially when I’ve been keeping your backside out of hot water for years. Just a few weeks ago, I covered for you when Ashley showed up at the office. And I covered for you this morning when she called me.”
“Ashley called you?”
“She said she wanted to give you your money back.” He shrugs. “Or something like that.”
I blow out a breath. “Tell her she can keep it.”
“Do I look like your messenger boy?” Patrick stalks toward my desk. “If it was only her, I’d consider it.”
“You’re saying there’s more?”
“All the girls you’ve been talking to lately have reached out asking why you’ve ghosted them. What’chyu trying to do, man?”
“I’m trying to fix my marriage, Pat.”
“Okay. And? You can’t have friends?” He scoffs. “This is what women do, man. They’re controlling and vindictive. A man can’t do anything without them tugging on the leash.”
I fall into my chair. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I bet Harriet’s the one who got angry and told you not to cover for me.”
“She didn’t tell me to do anything. I’m the one who made that decision.” Has he always been this clueless? Did I sound like that? Was I this obnoxious before Doc showed me what was broken and pointed me in the right direction?
Patrick stares me down. “I don’t recognize you anymore, J. You broke up with Ash, who’s an amazing girl that you really connected with. You’re ignoring the girls you were texting on the side. You’re spending time with your wife-”
“You’re acting like something’s wrong with me.”
“It is! A couple months ago, you were grumbling about how much Harriet was getting on your nerves. You barely wanted to go home because you were so tired of her nagging. Now she’s your stars and moon?” Patrick folds his arms over his chest. “Something’s changed. And if it’s because she has something over you, I need to know. It’ll affect the company too.”
I rub my forehead as I squeeze my eyes shut. “You want to know what happened? Fine. I met a mechanic named Doc and he changed my life.”
“A mechanic?” Pat scrunches his nose like I just told him the earth was flat.
“He helped me figure out where I was going wrong.”
“Is this some kind of cult? Is that it? You found religion?”
“Hell no.” I almost laugh. “Pat, all I found out was that I love my wife and I want my marriage.”
Patrick scoffs. Backs up a step. Shakes his head. “You’re insane.” “I think you should meet Doc. He’s the real deal, man.”
“I’m not going to meet your cult leader, J. But if you’re happy,” he lifts both hands, “do you. Just don’t come crying to me when you realize that women are ungrateful and will never be satisfied no matter how much you give them.”
“That’s not true, Pat. Even if it’s hard work, I’m falling in love all over again.”
He sneers at me. “Save it, J. I’ll see you around.” My best friend storms out of the office and slams the door behind him.