This is the way Jack and I spent our days, as the winter turned to spring, and the spring turned towards summer. I was living at the time in a two bedroom apartment just a little off the freeway in the north part of the metro. It was just me (and Jack), and a lot of bare white walls. Although I lived in a big apartment, I had barely enough furniture to fill a good-sized room. As a consequence, everyone who ever saw the place immediately asked me if I had just moved in. I usually feigned surprise and replied "What? You don't like my decorating? It's Monastic Modern.the latest thing."

I didn't care much, since when I was home, I mostly spent my time exercising, or laying on the only couch in the place- a hideous loveseat in orange plaid. For the most part, I was never home enough to notice anyway. I had no love for TV, and at the time I had nothing else in the house for entertainment, so I generally ended up staring at the walls until I felt impelled to go out or go crazy. This happened a lot. And every time I went out, I became Jack. So I would amble down to the local bar, and ride a barstool for a few hours, until it was time to go to work at 3am. Then I would work all night, sleep a few hours, and do the same thing again the next day. I varied this on my days off by going home with other drunks to drink more and swap lies. And this was our life, Jack and I. Insular, wasteful, safe.

Most days consisted of me on a barstool, swapping imaginative tales with the other regular drunks. Sometimes the stories were even true. Sometimes we got along. Sometimes we got into fights. Sometimes we did both. Drinking time started early for me, since I was working a staggered graveyard shift that began at 3 am, and at the time, I was only sleeping about four hours a day. So from about 3pm on, I could be found at one or another of my regular haunts, drenching my frontal lobes and trying to think of something more exciting to do. It wasn't easy, especially with the amount of alcohol that I drank, but once in a while, something would occur to me.

Most of the time, if an idea did occur to me, the wiser choice would have been to ignore it. Jack wasn't big on wisdom. Neither was I, really. So instead of doing the wise thing, I would do the fun thing: Dragoon as many of my fellow drunks into my plans as was feasible on short notice. Usually, it was quite a crowd. It was this kind of thinking that had landed me several times stranded in Tahoe, or Reno, and, on one memorable occasion, somewhere in Indio county. Usually by the time I got the pounding of my head under control and puzzled out where I was, there would also be the question of who I was, and who I was with. Over time, I found it simpler to always be Jack, except around those who already knew me as Rick. This saved me a lot of explaining in the long run.

The other part of being Jack that surfaced around this time was an uncanny ability to find the most interesting person in any given crowd and induce them to spend their time with me. It worked with males, or females, but it was especially effective with females of a certain type. Strippers, mostly. Jack was well known and well loved in many places. Among them, just about every dive bar and strip joint in the greater metropolitan area. And everywhere we went, Jack had friends.

There were probably twenty bars in the metro where Jack and I could drink free, and we could always find private parties or clubs. The whiskey flowed like a river, and every day began to assume a certain sameness. I went to work sweating alcohol and bile, and did my job competently, if morosely. And little by little, as the hangover passed, I would get to feeling more and more like Jack, and less and less like myself. I started each day mulling over thoughts about my divorce, and the many failures of my life, and sometimes Liv. And I ended each day ready to go home and collapse for a few hours. But I always woke up feeling recharged, and ready for another night of it. I saw the sun so infrequently, I was beginning to forget what it was, but I was still having fun, of a sort. So this is what Jack and I did. We drank, We gambled, we hung out with strange people. And we went home, to be alone.

Not that there weren't some variations on occasion. The most common of these, of course, were the women who sometimes wandered into one or another of the bars I habitually haunted. It usually happened sometime around happy hour. I'd be sitting on my favorite stool, having an internal dialogue that went something like this:

"Jack, tell me again why the hell we're here?"

"'Cause you never do know, boyo, you never do know."

"Christ, I can't even believe we get away with saying shit like that, man."

"Yeah, I know. I'm in awe of us, too."

And in would walk a woman, or a girl, depending. Either way, she would be sure to be of a type: fairly young, and attractive, with a certain look in her eyes.

"Hey, take a look, boyo."

"Hmmm. Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Jack?"

"Of course I am- we share the same skull."

And then I would just be Jack, all the way, and wait for her to look at me. They always did. And once they looked, it was over. It was always pretty much the same, although the details differed.

"Hi, there."

"Hi"

"My name's Jack- what's yours?"

"Tiffany."

"Well, Tiffany, I just wanted to tell you I think you're quite lovely."

"Thank you."

"And, that said, I'll be going. It was nice meeting you."

"You're not going to ask me for my number?"

"No."

"Or stay and talk a while?"

"No. I just wanted you to know. Have a nice day, Tiffany."

And then I walked away.

"Five, four, three, two, one." I was counting to myself as I walked towards the door.

"Hey, Jack?"

Bingo. Right on time. "Damn, Jack, sometimes you amaze me"

"Yes?"

"Would you stay and have a drink with me? I'd really enjoy it."

"Well, since you put it that way."

And we would talk a while, about this and that. And sooner or later, we'd get right down to the point, and they would come home with me. Now, before you demonize me, realize I never lied to these women- I told them the truth from the beginning. And they knew not to expect anything more than a mildly diverting physical encounter. And not one of them ever left unhappy. On a few occasions, while laying in the dark with the smell of a stranger's perfume and hair all around, there would be conversation. Usually about small things, little slices of life that would only matter to the people involved. Once in a while, they would ask about me. And I would tell them. Tall tales, mostly. Stories from my life, that made the things I had seen and done sound better- prettier- than they really were. And once in a while, one of them would ask me about love. And I never lied about that, ever.

Tiffany asked me about love. She asked as we were lying atop the down comforter that covered my huge bed, while the sweat dried on our skins.

"Jack?"

"Yes..?"

"Do you believe in love?"

"I don't know, Tiff. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. And sometimes I think love is like one of those diseases you hear about, you know? The ones you only whisper, when you have to say them: Cancer...Leprosy...Aids...Ebola... You know what I mean?"

"Explain it to me."

"Maybe love is real, but it's not anything I'd want to happen to me or anyone I know."

"Who was she?"

"She, who?"

"The girl. The one that made you feel that way."

"Just like a woman. What makes you think it was a girl? Maybe I've always been this cynical."

"No, it was a girl. There's always a girl. So who was she?"

"My ex-wife, maybe. I don't know."

"You're a liar, Jack. When you say that sometimes you believe, there's a look in your eyes. It's almost a face, you know? So, who was she?"

"Just a girl. No one special."

"No, Jack, I think she was."

"Maybe you're right."

"So what happened to her?"

"She left, a long time ago."

"Did you ever call her, or write her, or anything?"

"No."

"Maybe you should."

"Why? What's so grand about love, anyhow? Nothing lasts, you know. Not even love."

"Some things do last, Jack. And maybe the ones that don't are still worth it."

"Nothing ever lasts, Tiff. Sooner or later, everything falls apart, even if only when someone dies. And then what are you left with?"

"Memories, Jack. They're worth more than you think."

"You think so? Years from now, when you've forgotten all about tonight, will this memory be worth it, Tiff?"

"Yes, it will. Because I got what I wanted out of it. It doesn't have to last to mean something, Jack."

"Maybe you're right."

"I am. And Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"You're better than this, you know."

"What?"

"You're better than this. You're more than just another drunk- I can see it, even if you can't."

I lay there in the silence, watching her gather up her clothes and get ready to leave. Smoking. Thinking. I walked with her to the front door, kissed her goodnight.

"She's a lucky woman, Jack."

Her lips brushed my cheek, and her soft hair swung around me for a moment, while I inhaled her scent. Then she brushed her fingers ever so lightly across my cheek.

"You are truly a beautiful man."

And she turned and walked away. At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, and said, "You should call her, you know. Because you never do know."

And she was gone. I watched my empty front steps for a while, wondering about women. Then I went inside and took a few swigs from the bottle, and smoked, and thought some more. And then I went to bed. After all, I didn't have to work that particular night, and tomorrow was another day. And you never do know.

I spent most of the next week drinking less than usual, and thinking about the things that Tiffany had said to me. I never did really figure out how much of what she said was really accurate, but I realized that at least some of the things she said were dead on. For one thing, no matter how much I had tried to put Liv out of my mind, she was always present, like a thorn in my mind, and her memory colored every thing I did and thought. Thinking back over the last several months, I realized that a day hadn't passed that I didn't miss her, and think of her with a certain amount of longing. And in the end, it had to mean something.

The question that kept stopping me was: what could I do about it? I didn't know for sure that if I called her she would even talk to me, and if she did, what if she didn't miss me as I had missed her? There was a distinct possibility that she wanted nothing to do with me, and it made me very cautious. What made me even more cautious was the possibility that she would be happy to hear me. Because I knew, if she came back to me, I would never get her out of my soul. So I walked a lot, and drank a lot less, and thought.

And over the course of the days, my mind kept treading the same path, over and over again. Should I call? What should I say? I couldn't decide which would be worse, if she missed me or not. And of course I had to find out.

So at the end of the week, I called her.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Remember Me?"

"Rick! I was just thinking about you."

She sounded so simply and generously glad to hear from me, that I was immediately and completely hers again, if she wanted me. And this was a feeling I had come to distrust, so I played it cool- just talked about how she was, and how well I was doing, and other inconsequentials, until I deliberately decided to move the conversation in more provocative directions.

"Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had sex?"

"Tell me about it."

"How long has it been for you?" I lowered my voice some as I said it, and she replied in the same kind of husky whisper:

"A really long time..."

"Well, I guess we know how you spend your time, then..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know that they say that 90% of all adults between twenty and thirty admit to masturbating."

"What about the other ten percent?"

"They're lying..."

"Oh."

"So what about you?"

"Well, of course I do."

"Honesty- a good quality...so any particular fantasies that tickle your mind?"

"I'm not going to tell you that..."

"Yeah? Well how about I guess?"

"You can guess..."

"What do I get if I'm right?"

"What do you want?"

"How about you come up tomorrow, and we can go walk down by the river. And if I'm right, you owe me a kiss. How's that sound?"

"Ok, but what's your guess?"

"I think I know what you'll think about tonight, how's that?"

"And if you're right, I owe you a kiss?"

"Yep, and not just a peck- we're talking the works, here..."

"Okay, tell me."

"I think tonight, you'll be thinking about me."

There was a quick intake of breath on the other end of the line, and I went on.

"Want to know what you'll think about me doing..?"

"Yes..."

"I'll start by kissing you slowly, running my hands up and down your body, and then..."

"Yes..?"

By this point, of course, I knew I had her hooked. And at the same time, I was having an internal dialog that went something like this:

"Jack, what the hell are we doing, here?"

I went on to tell her in lascivious detail what I would do to her, and I must admit, it was fun. But the whole time, there was a niggling doubt in the back of my mind, that kept telling me I was the one in real danger of being sucked in. I ignored it, of course, and concentrated on the things I was saying to Liv. And the effect was pretty much exactly what I had expected. By the end of the phone call, I had no doubt she would be calling me the next day. And at the same time, I knew I was lying to myself. Not about the conversation- that much was correct. Get any woman thinking along the right lines, and you plant a very powerful idea in her mind. And all it takes to be the benefactor of that idea is a little bit of patience and intelligence.

The part I was lying to myself about was the effect she would have on me. By the time we hung up, with her promise to call me and tell me if I won the bet, I was already deep in daydreaming about her. And not the kind of daydreams you might expect after the conversation we had just had- instead, I found myself thinking about her voice, and how happy she had seemed to hear from me, and how warm it made me feel inside. I was looking forward to seeing her, and in some ways, I wouldn't mind if I lost the bet. I just couldn't stop thinking about how she would look in the golden light off the river, and how much I missed her being there to talk to. I was, in fact, nowhere near as unmovable as I liked to pretend. But sometimes you have to be a sucker, so I kept on dreaming.

It was in the middle of my two days off, so I didn't work that night, but instead of going to the bar, I went for a long walk, and thought about her. The night was chilly and windy, and I walked along the river's edge, trying to decipher why this girl was having the effect that she had on me. I couldn't puzzle it out, but I did eventually tire myself out, and so I headed home to sleep. But even in dreams I couldn't escape her voice. I was awakened the next morning from a dream I couldn't quite remember, except to know that my ears still echoed with Liv's voice. The shrill ringing of the phone had torn me from the dream, and I lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to remember what it was I had dreamed. Something about Liv and I, and the relative merits of daycare systems.

What the hell? Here I was, trying to be utterly invulnerable, and even in my dreams, I couldn't escape the way I was feeling, much against my will. Finally, I awakened enough to reach over and answer the phone. And of course it was Liv. A brief thought about synchronicity and destiny flitted through my mind, but I was still sufficiently asleep to brush it aside and carry on a conversation without it disturbing me too much. Also, it was early enough in the morning that Jack was mercifully silent.

"So, did I win the bet?"

"I'll tell you when I see you today."

"So you're definitely coming up then?"

"Yeah. I've missed you, and I'd like to at least come and see you today."

"Sounds great. And you promise you'll tell me when you get here?"

"Yes. But speaking of that- how would you know if I lied about it?"

"I would know. Trust me on this."

"Well, then, I won't lie."

"See you this afternoon?"

"Yeah. I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

And simple as that, I was falling again. I almost called her up at least a thousand times, to tell her something had come up, or I had been called back to work- anything to put her off. I figured that if I put her off a few times, it would fizzle out and we'd end up going our separate ways. But in the end, I was kidding myself, and I knew it. There was no way in the world I could just walk away from this one. So I wasted time, trying not to let my impatience and nervousness get the better of me. It was a dismal failure. When the time finally arrived for me to go and meet her by the river landing, I was all but vibrating with suppressed energy. While I stood at the landing and waited, I tried to calm down, without success. I was so keyed up, I was almost certain that I would be so awkward and nervous that I'd make a complete ass of myself.

I had arrived early, mostly so I could hang around and try to work my nerve up to seeing her. Instead of succeeding, I had merely tortured myself with every negative thought that could be had, and just about convinced myself that it would be a better idea to leave before she could arrive and I could embarrass myself further. I had spent about twenty minutes bouncing back and forth about the idea, and had just about gotten myself convinced that it would be the most prudent thing to do. So I turned to go, and was momentarily blinded by the reflection of the sun off of a car window as it pulled into the parking lot. And then I saw her, walking towards me. And all of a sudden, I didn't feel nervous. I felt like I was glowing. I thought to myself : "She brings the sun with her." And suddenly, she was there, and I didn't quite know what to say. And so I stood there, grinning like an idiot, and just basked in the feeling. It was better than whiskey. Better than fireworks. Better than anything.

It was love.

But I still didn't admit it to myself. Instead, I covered the moment by giving her my lopsided-Jack grin and saying:

"Well, did I win?"

And when she kissed me, it was like a million flashbulbs went off right behind my eyes. I felt light-headed, and suddenly very conscious of the day around me. I felt the way the wind whispered across us, and the way the sunlight shone across our faces, part in shadow, as we kissed. I was suddenly aware of so many things at once, all distinct, all perfect; The feel of her in my arms, her lips on mine. The taste of her mouth. The smell of her hair blowing around my face. And I wanted time to stop, right there, and just let me linger with her.

When we finally came up for air, there wasn't really much to say. The sparkle in her eyes told me all I needed to know. And it was obvious that I was thrilled to see her. But being me, I had to say something, even when saying nothing was the wiser thing to do. This time, though, if it wasn't entirely the right thing to say, at least it wasn't entirely the wrong thing.

"Wow."

She just looked at me for a minute, smiling, and then she took my hand, and we walked along the river talking. Catching up on life, as old friends will. I think by that point, we both knew that a turning point had been passed, and our relationship would never be quite the same. But we didn't talk about it, instead simply enjoying the day, and each other, until the chill in the air finally forced us to concede the day to the squirrels, and take ourselves back to my apartment. After we got there, we were awkward for a few minutes before we succumbed to the inevitable, and made love. And after it was over, while I lay there with her in my arms, feeling better than I ever had in my life, Jack popped up and put in his two cents.

"Wow."

I was in utter agreement.