Author's Note:
A special thanks to jushorny who willingly accepted editing this story for me. I hope you enjoy the beginning of these two gentlemen's journey into their relationship and the relationships around them. I look forward to all comments and suggestions. Please enjoy the read, it was a pleasure to write. ~ Red
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Samuel watched his friend and drinking partner knock another Jack and Coke down, his fifth this afternoon. He put his hand on Victor's arm when his friend went to wave the bartender down for another. "Look Vic," he said. "I think you've had enough."
Vic looked at the drop of black liquid still resting like a raindrop on a leaf. He tipped the shot glass back and savored the little drop. "Yeah . . . I guess so."
Sam was glad to hear his friend agree. "When are you going to tell her?" he asked. He watched Victor's expression and for a moment was lost in the sorrow filled eyes.
Victor had been a temporary clerk for Samuel's company. He'd been working the mail room while a replacement was being interviewed. Samuel had been away when the head of the division passed away. The vice-president made arrangements to have someone come in and take over until a more permanent person could be interviewed. By the time Sam returned from his hiatus Victor had done such a great job, the vice-president hired him as the permanent replacement. Sam was introduced to Victor and the two became very good friends.
"Tonight . . . I guess," Vic answered.
Sam forced his attention back to his friend and gave his arm a firm, gentle squeeze. "I wish I could be there for you," he told him. He moved his hand down his friend's arm and curled his fingers around the hand that still clutched the empty glass.
"I know," Victor replied, his voice hollow.
"I've got to get back to the office. You got a cab coming, right?" Sam asked. He didn't want to leave his friend like this, but since he'd taken such a long hiatus to get over his last relationship, he didn't want to jeopardize the faith that the company's stockholders had in him.
"Yeah," Victor answered. He nodded his head to the bartender. "We have a standing rule. If I knock back three and ask for a fourth he calls a cab." The bartender chuckled, hearing the conversation. Sam laughed too.
"Well, if I don't hear from you tonight, I'll see you tomorrow at work," Sam said. He stood up and pressed a kiss to his friend's temple. "I'll be thinking of you."
"Thanks," Vic answered. There was a soft smile on the young man's face. He watched his lover leave the bar and sighed. "When's the cab arriving?" he asked Marty.
Marty looked at his watch, "Oh about five more minutes."
"All right. I'll take one more and hit the john before I go."
Marty poured the drink and went back to wiping down the counter. He felt bad for Vic. He'd been coming in here the past couple of months and after the first week he'd finally opened up to Marty. Like many people do with bartenders, he told Marty all about the secret life he'd been living. From the conversation he'd overheard tonight it sounded as if Victor was finally gonna lay it all on the table with his wife and confess.
As Vic left the bar, after the sixth drink, Marty's mind traveled to his wife and he wondered what he'd do without her if she were about to come home and tell him she was leaving him for another woman. In Vic's case though, it was the opposite. Vic was about to leave his wife for another man.
Victor sat in the back of the cab and thought about his life. He focused mainly on the last eight years, eight years full of heartache and pain. He loved his wife. She was a great woman. Her smile lit up her face and her eyes spoke volumes when she was at a loss for words. He knew he'd see those eyes doing just that later tonight. Victor could see her clearly, it was as if she were right there beside him. She was his friend really. Samuel was too, but Pamela would always be nothing more than a friend.
They'd gotten married because it seemed like the right thing to do, for him anyway. She'd married him because she was in love with him. He'd married her and he did love her, but mainly he'd married, because it was expected of him. His parents strove to make him the best at everything. He won Scholarships to several big league colleges to play football, something he didn't care about at all. He knew if he married Pamela and got her pregnant, then he wouldn't have to leave home. So he stayed her boyfriend through their senior year in High School and into college until she got pregnant. He married her, finished school as a business major instead of the football athlete his parents had hoped for, and continued to keep his secret.
The cabby put the car in park and watched his customer climb out. He'd been picking up drunks and tipsy men from Marty's Place for years. Each man had their own reasons for drinking and each man had their own story to tell, he figured this fellow's story wasn't a good one. He'd only driven the man home a few times. Every time he did though the young man seemed drunk and more depressed. He took his fare and watched the man walk away. "Hey," he called out. When the man turned, he said, "I'll be thinking of you. Good luck."
Vic looked surprised, but touched. "Thanks," he said. He waved goodbye to the cabby and finished the short trek up his walkway. As he walked, he recalled taking the same path with his Bride. He remembered how excited she was and how much he viewed it as a prison. He knew when he made that first step into the house that he was sealing the door on a life he'd have to keep hidden forever. The footsteps he took now reflected that day. Though the walk was short, it was one of the longest of his life, the exception to this moment, his wedding day.
He unlocked the house and was glad the kids were spending the weekend with Pamela's parents. Victor tossed his keys to the table and walked to the study. He poured a shot of brandy, downed it quickly, and took a seat. He pressed his palms into his face and rubbed his skin vigorously. "Oh God, give me strength," he pleaded into the air.
His eyes rested on a silver frame that held a picture of his wedding day, the day he slipped a ring on a delicate hand that touched him in a way he never allowed another woman to touch him. As he held her hand his eyes moved to the onlookers and caught his lover's stare. He'd come to see if he'd go through with it. When the final words were spoken and they turned to face the group of friends and family, his lover had disappeared, refusing to ever speak to Victor again.
His finger moved over the picture and he traced Pamela's face and cried. He didn't want to hurt her, yet he was dying more inside each day. He couldn't continue. He'd found his match and he owed it to her to come clean . . . he owed it to himself.
He heard the front door open and soon she was there in the doorway of the study. "Hey Hon. You're home early," she said. "Everything all right? The kids okay?" she asked.