Elliot Melfi elliot23@live.unc.edu What We Mean When We Say “Love” After work, Henry, Fred and I all went out to get a drink. Fred is technically our boss, which means we don’t complain whenever we have to pay for his cab home. I actually don’t mind since he usually buys a round or two for all of us once he’s good and plastered, but I think Henry gets tired of having to play babysitter for a grown man. Nobody suggested it, but somehow we wound up at a local pub that claimed to be Irish but looked more like a green Hooters. We ordered nothing but appetizers, taking our time to finish each one off before ordering the next, and drank to make them taste less like fried rubber. By the time evening rolled around, an empty pitcher sat between us, surrounded by baskets coated with fry grease and melted cheese. Fred was talking, which meant Henry and I were supposed to listen. “They can’t keep their hands off me! Must be my Italian blood, drives women wild. I’m telling you - Dana from accounting? She wants it,” he said.
“So is herpes.” “-Get well soon,” said Fred. “Hey, do you guys wanna do some shots?” “It’s Thursday,” said Henry. “We’ve all gotta be at work in the morning.” “So? I’ll call in and say we had to go visit a partner or something. Come on, don’t be such a pussy.” “You know she’s married, right?” I said. They both turned to me. “Sophia? The cleaning lady?” Said Henry. “Bull,” said Fred. “There isn’t a ring on any one of her supple fingers, and I should know.” “Not her,” I said. “Donna. From accounting. She got engaged last week. She brought in a bunch of doughnuts and left them in the break room for everybody.” Fred blinked. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” he said. ⧫ “So you’re telling me it doesn’t bother you, not even a little bit?” I said. “We’ve got this woman - a newly engaged woman - probably already super nervous about the wedding, powering through because she loves this guy - you’d insert yourself in the middle of that?” “Okay, first off,” he said. “Yes. I would totally ‘insert myself,’ if you catch my drift.” He held out a fist and Henry reluctantly tapped knuckles with him. “Second, don’t be such a choir boy. Who says that I’d be ruining anything for anybody? For all we know, she might go on to have a long, happy marriage, along with a few mind-blowing hookups with yours truly. Everybody wins.” “What about the fiancé?” I said.
“What about him?” Said Fred. “If the poor schmuck can’t satisfy, then that’s his problem. IN FACT, I’ll practically be doing the guy a favor, keeping his wife happy for him. A lot of people pay good money for that sort of thing, but I’ll be giving it to him - and her- pro bono.” “Oh yeah, you’re a real martyr.” Said Henry. “Years down the line the guy’s gonna come up to you and say ‘Gosh mister, thanks a bundle for screwing my wife. It sure did make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to find out she was sleeping with her sleazy boss for the past few years.’” “He won’t be the only one feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.” Said Fred. He held out his fist. This time, Henry left him hanging. “What’s the matter with you guys? It’s not that serious.” “Yeah it is man.” I said “It’s kinda messed up,” said Henry. “She’s got a husband.” “One day she might have kids with this guy.” “You’d be sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” “Alright I get it!” Said Fred. “I’m a scumbag, I’m a monster, I’m Hitler, I GET IT. God forbid we lay any of this blame on poor little Dana, even though she’s the one making eyes at me!” “Donna,” said Henry. “I swear to God I’m about to turn your glasses into contact lenses.” “Wait wait wait.” I said. “Why would we be blaming her?” “Cause I ain’t the one who’s married!” Said Fred.
“Okay fair point, but what if she never found out?” he asked. “Would you cheat on her if you knew for sure, without a trace of doubt, that she would never know and it would never come up again?” I thought for a second. “No. I’d still know, and I couldn’t do that to her.” “AHA!” he shouted. “And why is that?” “Because I love her you dipshit, and you don’t mess with true love once you find it.” “Well, there’s your problem right there.” “I have no idea what you’re saying,” I said. “You wouldn’t.” “I swear to god Henry I’m about to break my foot off in your ass.” “You guys will not believe the shit that just happened to me,” Fred said, sliding back into his chair. “So I’m in the bathroom, right? Just minding my own business, thinking about whether to call in sick tomorrow, taking a leak, when all of a sudden the stall door opens, and who comes in? That’s right, it’s the-” “Shut up for a sec, Fred.” I said. “Help us settle this. Do you think that Donna loves her husband?” He groaned. “Aw man, are you guys still all bent up about that? Look, I’ll drop it, alright? Would that make you ladies happy? Would that get those knots out of your panties?” “No,” I said. “Well I mean yes, but also no, but that’s not what this is about anymore. Anyway, do you think she loves her husband. Like as in, real, true, love?” kind
“What are you, dumb?” he said. “Of course not.” “Thank you!” said Henry. “Cause there’s no such thing,” said Fred. “Did one of you chucklefucks touch my nachos?” ⧫ “I’m not saying she doesn’t love him,” said Henry. “I’m just saying it’s not the of love you’re thinking about.” “And I’m just saying you’re not making sense,” I said. “It’s not - it’s just...” he said. “Alright, let me try to walk you two through this one more time. First, can we all agree that she loves her husband?” “Yes,” I said. “Sure. Why not,” said Fred, stacking our empty glasses into a pyramid. “Good. And can we agree that she’s been making eyes at Fred?” he said. “I guess.” “Youbetcha.” “Okay. Finally, would she sleep with someone, like this hairy mofo right here, if she were in love with someone else?” “No,” I said. “No,” said Fred. “And that’s why I’m not the bad guy in this situation. If God himself made these two for each other, whatever, nothing’s gonna happen. BUT she’s making eyes at me, which means she doesn’t really love the guy, and that she’s just been taking him for a ride.” Some people got sleepy when they drank. Fred wasn’t one
you guys even a little impressed? Aw, forget it. Who needs ya, I’ll just find some new wingmen. Ones that don’t get all sappy two drinks in!” “You do that Fred,” I said. “G’night guys, see you at work.” “G’night. Call a cab Fred, I don’t wanna have to pretend to be sad at your funeral.” “Yeah yeah, whatever. Don’t be late tomorrow, or I’ll have your asses on a pike.” I started walking home. It was about thirty minutes on foot, but the night was cool and I wasn’t dumb enough to try to drive it. Besides, the sky was clear, and one of those reverse-crescent moons was shining down in that way that made everything look like it was made of silver, and it got me thinking about what we’d all been saying. I got to thinking about Fred and Donna and her fiancé, I thought about the waitress and the cleaning lady and Henry, I thought about myself and Sarah and the past seventeen years. I thought and I thought, and when I finally I got home my feet were so heavy from carrying all those thoughts that I collapsed on the porch steps. I focused on my breathing. If I exhaled from my stomach instead of my chest, I could make a cloud of stale mist billow from my mouth. It rose up in the flickering yellow of the porch light, and I swiped a hand through it. I couldn’t see through the fog, couldn’t think through it. I looked up at the moon and thought about how to ask her what I wanted to ask her. It was one of those questions you know all the way to the core of your being, but can’t put into words. You know the kind. You know it so well yourself that you can’t imagine how to tell it to someone, like what water tastes like or what blue looks like. I wanted to go inside where it was warm and familiar, I really did, but it just didn’t seem right somehow. Sarah was in there, and the girls were too, and I wanted to