"Don't grab my ass, or I'll have to hurt you."
He grinned back. "I can live with that."
The next weekend he introduced me to the "only other person who knew"; Cheryl. It was love at first sight. It took me six months to get her to agree to a date. It wasn't till after graduation, when I proposed, that she told me she'd loved me at first sight too. I was the happiest man in the world.
Carlos and I went into business together after graduation. I had a degree in Computer Technologies and he had a degree in Marketing. We started our own computer consulting business just as the PC boom took off. Within five years we were the hottest consulting company in town, had twenty-five employees and life was looking great.
Marriage hadn't been as easy business. Love was never an issue. Cheryl and I were so in love that any fight would make us sick. That didn't stop us from fighting, but we never went to bed angry. The one time we couldn't resolve the issue, we both stayed up all night and Carlos finally intervened and told me to suck it up and be the man. I did; we resolved the issue; life moved on.
Carlos tried for love a few times. It never seemed to work out. It was a shame too; Cheryl and I liked a couple of the guys a lot. I, however, was always the last to know. Where as I always went to Carlos for advice or a shoulder to cry on when things were bad at home, Carlos went to Cheryl. They'd been friends since grade school and the love between them was as strong as Cheryl's and mine; if Carlos had been straight, they'd have been a couple for sure.
Other than our inability to produce kids, we had no regrets. We'd been pregnant, twice, but neither child had made it to term. Carlos would grieve with us each time. I think he was the only reason we stayed sane. He was the best friend either of us could ask for; we needed him. I never knew how much till Cheryl was diagnosed with cancer. He was right there, helping with everything from the house to taking Cheryl to appointments when I couldn't. The guest room practically became his room for several nights out of the week.
Now, it was coming to an end. The chemo and radiation just couldn't keep up with the progress of the cancer. After months of treatments and more testing than I could count, there was nothing left. Cheryl would be returning home and we'd have hospice care for the time we had left.
*****
It was more than I could deal with. Months of holding onto the faintest of hopes had worn me out. All I wanted to do was die with her. I was so tired, aching heart and soul, and lost. Carlos got us to his place and I sat on the couch, numb, while he made us food. I didn't even taste the soup as I ate it; it was a shame really, Carlos was an incredible cook. I just couldn't seem to focus on anything.
After sitting on the couch for who knows how long, Carlos sat down beside me, put his arm across my shoulders and squeezed. That seemed to unhinge something because the next thing I knew I was laying against him, sobbing into his chest. He just held me as I cried out the anguish. I knew he was hurting too but I didn't have it in me to face it. He was losing his best friend and I was losing my wife. We were both faced with living without the only woman either of us had ever loved.
As my sobbing stilled, I let myself melt against him. It'd been so long since I'd held anyone. After the first month of treatment, Cheryl had been in so much pain that I couldn't do more than hold her like a porcelain doll. Eight months of treatments and tests; eight months without any real physical contact; I was starving for it. I just lay there, listening to his heart beat, and let his warmth wash away a little of the ache. I'd never realized how safe I felt with Carlos; how he always seemed to point me in the right direction.
I don't know why, but I sat up a little and looked into his eyes. They were as exhausted as mine and so sad. I also realized that unlike me, he didn't have a "Carlos" to turn to. Cheryl wasn't available. I don't know how it started, but I found myself pressed against him with his hands in my hair and my lips pleading with his to take away the pain. Then I realized what I was doing and I jerked back. I was so fucking hard. Carlos was looking at me, breathless and flushed; confusion was written all over him.
This time it was my turn to panic. I bolted for the door; shame and guilt were riding me hard. I loved my wife more than life. I was betraying her while she lay, dying, in some sterile hospital room. I hated myself.
Carlos tried to stop me but I threw off his hands and screamed at him. At that moment I hated him too. It was his fault. I couldn't be in love with him. I called him every bigoted thing that he'd ever heard and possibly a few things he hadn't. I told him to stay away from me. I flew from the apartment in a fury of rage and self-loathing. For the first time in over fifteen years I really was alone.
Cheryl came home the next day accompanied by a hospice nurse. I held her and touched her as much as I could. I knew I wouldn't be able to spend every day at home; I had a business to run. Still, I wanted as much time with Cheryl as I could get. I stayed away from work for three days before there was no way I could avoid going back in.
The evening before I went back, Cheryl asked about Carlos. He had not been by since she'd come home and though the pain medications made her drowsy and messed with her sense of time, she knew his absence was unusually long.
I made an excuse about the business and that when I went back he'd be able to take time to visit. Normally, Cheryl would have seen through that in a heartbeat, but she wasn't as aware under the haze of the meds. My guilt and shame hadn't let me go since the night of the kiss and I couldn't face Carlos. I also couldn't keep him from Cheryl, what ever I might have felt; they were too close for her to be without him. I logged on and sent an email to Carlos. "I'll be at work tomorrow. Cheryl misses you. I won't be home till 5pm."
Okay, it was cold and impersonal but I wasn't ready to deal with him. Unfortunately, my subconscious had other ideas. As I dropped my head to my hands, my thoughts went back to how good it had felt. I could actually remember the faint smell of his worn-out cologne, the play of his fingers on my back, and how strong his lean body had felt beneath me. I found myself painfully aware of the throbbing in my jeans.
I got up from the computer and went to the bathroom. The water steamed as I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower. I washed myself, trying desperately to scrub away what I'd been thinking. It wasn't that I was revolted; I was ashamed. The love of my life was dying in the other room and I'd become aroused thinking about her best friend. The problem was, my erection wouldn't go away. I turned the water on full cold and tried to chill my argumentative flesh into submission. It worked, but only after I was chilled to the point of trembling. Even after I'd dried off and warmed back up, a part of the chill remained in my gut. I went to bed, aching at the realization I was losing two people I loved.
*****
Carlos and I avoided each other. There were times when coming in contact was unavoidable. We would have to accept conference calls and meet with clients. As the owners and primary representatives of the company, we couldn't let it all fall apart even if our personal lives were doing just that. It was hardest in the business meetings. Carlos didn't have the life in him that he normally had when engaging clients. I probably didn't either. Our ability to double team, one of our strongest skills, was practically nonexistent.
I just couldn't meet his eyes. The few times I did, what I saw made it worse. There wasn't anger or resentment; there was sadness and regret. How can you look into the eyes of the guy who's been your best friend for nearly twenty years and know the pain you see there you caused? How do you reconcile the fact that though you'd never had a sexual thought about a man before, the memory of his touch was enough to make your pants tight? How do you accept it when the woman you love is there, depending on you, and all you can do is hold her hand and watch her die? I couldn't, so I avoided any overture he made to reconnect. It was selfish and cowardly; I hated myself; most of all, I just hurt.
Our employees knew about Cheryl and all knew how close the three of us were, or at least "had been". They tried their best to keep things together without weighing us down. Carlos spent more time doing client visits and I immersed myself in the technical details of the business. We kept busy. I knew Carlos spent at least some time every day with Cheryl; I was thankful for that. Cheryl needed all the love and support she could get.
I spent my evenings with her. There were times when she could think clearly and we would talk and laugh as if nothing were wrong. Other times, she would slip into dark places or would be so hazy from the meds that I would simply sit and read to her knowing she wasn't listening. My own nights alternated from sleepless, to restless, to dreamless exhaustion. My nights were always worst if I'd been around Carlos that day.
One night I simply gave up. I had come home and found Carlos leaving. We looked at each other. His eyes were so red; so tired. I wanted to hug him and tell him how sorry I was. I wanted to apologize. Most of all, I wanted to know he was still my friend. Instead, we stood in an awkward silence. He tried to say something too, but couldn't. It was so painful to just stand there when he brought his hand up and brushed away one of my tears. He left without saying anything, unable to bear my silence any longer.
I could still feel his fingers on my cheek as I tried to wash away the sense worthlessness I felt. The shower warmed my body, but my soul felt cold. I closed my eyes and the heat of the water reminded me of the warmth of his body. I stood there, under the shower, hugging myself. I remembered his arms holding me. My hand began to stroke my aching shaft as I pressed my forehead against the tiles and remembered the touch of his lips. The memory of his tongue touching mine had me whimpering as I released against the tiled wall. My legs shook; I sank to the floor, and cried. The pressure was gone, but the emptiness felt worse.
