You're Still Young

"Anyway," she concluded, "see you around loser. My sister and I are quitting today if they're gonna promote someone like you to be our boss." Debbie obviously didn't know about Flint. She tossed her cigarette on the ground and twisted her shoe over it.

I left and went to my... well, what had been my home. Emma wasn't there and neither was her car. I guess she'd missed her ride with Brian. It took me less than two hours to pack everything I owned into my car. I still had room for a passenger or two. I did look around for the video of Troy with my wife, thinking I might need it if they caused me any trouble, but all the equipment and the tape were gone.

I thought about leaving my ring as a symbolic gesture, but I'd paid for both hers and mine, so I might as well try to get some of the money back. In the end, I didn't even leave a note. She'd get the message. I left directly for Flint and a new life right then, deciding there was no need to prolong an extra day.

Two days into my new job and I got a call from Brian. Two of our main cooks had left in some sort of solidarity with my predecessor. Brian was heading up for a few days, to help train a few new hires. He asked if we could grab a beer after the shift.

"I saw them, one day," he told me as the server brought our beers.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I wanted to know. "It would have helped if I could have stopped it early."

"No," he replied sadly. "I don't think it would have. Where Darla and I are concerned, Emma is a fast and easy kind of gal. She's always gonna crave a fast and easy life. The things she told me on those drives to and from work, helped me make my decision to let you find out on your own. If it hadn't been Troy, it would have eventually been someone just like him. She needs a guy like that without ties, so she can be free to explore and expand. Those were her words, by the way."

"So, what's she saying at work?" I asked, not sure why.

"She's telling everyone you two needed a break from your marriage, and that you'll return from Flint when the work is done."

"She's delusional," I laughed.

"Yes, she is," he agreed. "I've also seen her at his house a few times. Sorry man."

I'd been at my new job for a week before the calls started.

"When are you coming home?" she'd start.

"How many nights have you spent with him?" I'd reply with a question, and then hang up before she could start with her excuses.

It was three weeks to the day from that party when Lance walked into the back door of the restaurant. The office was right next to that door, and I was in it. I knew he was coming because he had to sign some papers at city hall, regarding our upcoming remodel.

"Hey, Rob," his tone was downcast. "You need to talk to her." Before I could say anything, he moved to his left, and there was Emma.

"Go sit in the bar since it doesn't open until eleven," he demanded. "If it turns into a screaming match, take it outside to your car."

Emma and I sat in the dark, with only the emergency lighting illuminating us. I raised my eyebrow to give her the floor. My soon-to-be ex-wife took a few deep breaths.

"You're not coming home are you?" she asked as if already knowing the answer.

"You know I'm not."

"Okay," she sighed. "I'm moving to Las Vegas." She just left it there.

"With him?" was my next question.

"Um-hum," she replied without looking at me. Then looking up, she added, "You need to do something about the house."

"It isn't mine," I said. "Give it back to your dad. We're on the hook for two grand and there's no equity in it." She nodded, and then asked, "Do you hate me that much?" What an odd question, I thought.

"Well, I certainly don't love you, or even like you," I said snidely. "Have fun in Vegas, Emma. I need to get back to work. You can wait in here for Lance."

She didn't say another word. I went back to my office and was suddenly overcome. Quickly, I shut the door and bawled like a baby. I guess I lied about not loving her. I couldn't square being so angry with her, and then just like that, turn into a blubbering, sobbing idiot. I'd be a lot older before someone explained it to me.

Epilogue:

I never saw Emma again.

Cathy and I ran into each other nine months later on one of my many trips south. Emma's father had given the house to Ron and Cathy. I'd signed the papers right away, and I'd also signed the divorce papers that Troy had helped Emma complete. Cathy told me about that.

She also told me that Troy had abandoned Emma in Las Vegas, only three months after they moved there. He was employed as a limo driver, which was how he met the stripper he hooked up with. Emma, without an income stream, became an escort for the high-rollers.

Emma, or at least our relationship, was an enigma to me for quite some time. I couldn't understand what I considered a strong, mutual love turning so sour, that fast. As I recounted the story over the next few years, it became clear that most of it was on me. I let my little head drive my decision on starting a marriage. I wore blinders during the relationship too. Most people I told the story to laughed when I got to the part about the twins and the hand job. It was like I'd just given away the ending to a decent movie. It also spoke volumes as to how blind I'd been. When people saw the embarrassment on my face, they'd always say something like, "It's okay, you're still young."

They never really meant it that way.

The following year, after Emma and I split, Doug called me two weeks before Christmas.

"Dude, we finally got him!" he exclaimed, a little winded. "He's back in Michigan. We saw him at the mall!" Doug was present shopping with three friends, when Troy walked right past them. Doug saw the golden opportunity. He went and found his brother. Convenient for everyone, Doug's brother was a security guard at said mall. The foursome followed Troy for a while until he went into a men's room, and Doug's brother locked the door from the outside.

"It's a damned good thing you didn't go at him that night of the party," he told me. "That fucker is some kind of Jujitsu expert. Four of us almost got our asses kicked until two of us decided to rush him at the same time."

Once on the ground, Troy was no match for the party of four. Doug said he leaned over the bastard as he held his junk with both hands, and told him, "That's for Rob and Emma."

I met Rachel, and we've been together for twenty-two years. Like Emma, she hasn't ever pulled punches. What I've always gotten from her, whenever she's within earshot of my tale of woe, is, "You big dummy. At least you're still young... at heart!" She's so sweet!