Goodbye
After rounds, Harvey took himself home. It had been hours since he’d left Jay, and he hadn’t heard from him. Not one text or phone call. He lived in a large three-bedroom home. He’d purchased it a year after he’d broken it off with Mark. It had been a symbol of freedom—independence. By owning his home, he owned his life. It would belong to him and no one else. He’d hired a decorator to make it cozy and warm. In all that time, it had never bothered Harvey to be alone. Hell, after some workdays he needed the solitude badly. But now, as he sat on his leather couch in his large living room, the emptiness overwhelmed him.
He stared at his cell phone willing it to ring, to beep, to do something—anything that would let him know that Jay still wanted to see him. Why had he interrupted Jay when Jay tried to introduce him? Jay’s hesitancy had made Harvey uncomfortable. The hurt and anger in Jay’s eyes when Harvey had said, “Good friends,” had turned uncomfortable into unbearable. He’d put his foot in his mouth, but he still wasn’t sure how or why. Or why Jay hadn’t asked him to stay. Or why Jay hadn’t called.
He looked down at his cell again. “Ring damn it,” he demanded, and jumped when it actually went off.
Don’t you forget about me. Don’t you walk on by.
Harvey sighed. It was Mark. Mark. Since the night he’d met Jay, Harvey found it harder and harder to be friends with Mark. Besides, he could tell it bugged Jay that he still saw Mark, even if it was mostly at work. He let the ringtone play out until Mark was sent to voicemail.
A minute later, his text dinged. He opened to a message from Mark: Wanna work out? 24 Fit. Heading out now.
Another minute later, Harvey changed clothes and grabbed his gym bag.
* * * *
The weight machines clanked out of unison in a chaotic beat. The gym smelled like ozone and lemony antibacterial wipes they used to clean the equipment. After putting his bag in the locker room, Harvey searched for Mark—too focused to even admire the half-naked gym rats grunting as they pounded out their routines. It didn’t take long to find him working his quads.
Mark, drenched in sweat, groaned as he pushed out another round on the leg press. After ten repetitions, he dropped his feet off the press, and noticed Harvey. His face lit up with a welcoming grin. Harvey waved, but had to force a smile to his lips. Their relationship, outside of being lovers, had always been easy. It had been one of the reasons Mark had been so hard to give up. But for months, he’d had to force himself to be genial around his ex.
“Hey, Harv,” Mark said. He turned sideways on the leg press and used a small towel to wipe the sweat from his glistening forehead. The tight blue tank top he wore hugged every cut of his defined muscular chest. Mark’s broad shoulders and developed arms were even bigger than Harvey’s. At forty-two, Mark had a body even the youngest men at the gym envied.
Harvey sat down to the curl bench and sagged forward on the lean. “Hey.”
Mark adjusted the weight for him. “Forty pounds?”
“Sure.” At home he’d been lonely, but now, in this crowded gym with Mark, he felt even more isolated. They worked out for a solid hour without any conversation. Harvey, drenched in sweat, ended his work-out on the bench press. He finished his final lift, muscles completely fatigued, with a loud bellow. Weight lifting usually helped him clear his head. It was a way to keep his body busy while he focused his thoughts. Unfortunately, his emotions were still a tangled mess over Jay. How could he fix whatever had happened between them when he didn’t know why or how it got broken? He sat up—more frustrated than before he’d started—drank some water and wiped his forehead with a towel.
“You all right?” Mark put his hands on Harvey’s shoulders and began to knead his tense muscles. “Man, you’re in knots.”
Harvey closed his eyes as Mark’s skillful fingers did their magic. He’d always had a deft touch. “Rough morning.”
“Things with you and lover boy okay?”
“Jesus, Mark.” Harvey pulled away from him. “Why do you have to be such an asshole?” Whatever happened between him and Jay was none of Mark’s damn business.
Mark maneuvered until he was in front of Harvey. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a shit friend. Hell, I’ve been a shit human being.”
“Truth,” Harvey muttered, unable to placate Mark with the normal assurances.
Mark ignored the response. “I miss you, man.” He knelt down by the curl bench and put his hand on Harvey’s thigh. “I know we’ll never get back what we had, we’ll never be lovers again, and I know it’s mostly my fault, but I really want my best friend back.”
“Mostly?” Harvey turned and looked at Mark. His dark hair, perfectly coiffed, and his chiseled jawline, along with his muscular body, reminded Harvey of Gerard Butler in 300. Minus the beard, of course.
Mark had been a complete shit when they’d been together—sometimes he still acted like Harvey was a possession—his possession—to play with. His complete domination in their relationship had driven Harvey not just to leave, but to run away.
Mark diverted his gaze to the floor. “I haven’t had a drink since that…night. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me.”
An ache filled Harvey as he looked upon Mark with new pity. So much of the past decade had centered around Mark and his minefield of “feelings.” Harvey had tip-toed around him so often, always worried he’d trigger some kind of blow-up in Mark, until he’d nearly perfected the dance of avoidance.
A sudden realization struck Harvey, and his stomach dropped. “I have to go.”
“You just got here.”
“I know,” Harvey said. He placed his hand on Mark’s arm. “I forgive you, Mark. I forgive you for everything.” He stood up. “Even so, I can’t be your friend. Not anymore.”
“Because of the bartender?”
“No, Mark.” He looked at Mark with pity. “Not because of Jay.”
Mark grabbed Harvey’s hand before he could walk away. “Why? Why now?”
Harvey shook his head. “Our friendship died a long time ago,” he said, unable to keep the sadness from his voice. “We just never gave it a proper burial.” He put his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Goodbye.”
Mark didn’t chase after him, didn’t plead for him to come back. Maybe Mark had managed to grow up some. After Harvey got his bag from the locker, he took out his cell phone and promptly deleted Mark’s number from his contacts. The gesture was more symbolic of the ending than a true end since Mark had his number, but maybe his ex would do the same. It didn’t matter anymore. Harvey knew what he needed to do now. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.