Big Boys Don't Cry

 

Big Boys Don’t Cry

 

He’s smiling at her. I mean, not just smiling, but the kind of smile that lights up the room, that makes you feel like you’re the only one in his world. I used to be on the receiving end of that smile: Clay’s eyes sparkling with childlike mirth. It used to be only me and now it’s only her, that w***e. I should be calling her that, though; it’s not her fault.

 

Clay tells a joke that probably wasn’t even remotely funny in the first place and she laughs. How can he even stand that laugh? It’s high and loud and why aren’t his ears bleeding yet? The waiter, short with bleached blonde hair, comes to my half-empty two-person table to take my order. I growl something to him about the ridiculous prices and storm off in the direction of Their table.

 

I say, in a low scratchy voice that sounds like I hadn’t talked in days, “Hey, Clay,” and press a lingering kiss onto his cheek. His cheek is scratchy and he smells like that awful cologne that he would always wear. I pull away and stay (I find that awful smell to be oddly endearing), breathing in his ear. His breath is shallow and I feel triumphant, like I’ve won the Olympics or something. Then I spot a wedding band on his finger and the feeling’s gone.

 

I pretend not to notice. “I’ll be waiting outside,” I whisper in his hear so that She can’t hear me and strut confidently and gracefully away- the opposite of what I’m feeling.

 

“What is he doing here?” I hear her shriek, and there’s that triumphant feeling again.

 

Outside, the night is chilly, and the stars are very omnipresent. I take a drag of my cigarette and wonder vaguely why I’m so nervous. I mean, I am smarter and hotter and more fun and way more sophisticated than that girl he’s with, but what if he doesn’t like me anymore? I mean, she actually laughs at his stupid jokes. He must like that. What if he does that stupid “I’m putting other people first!” thing and decides to stay with her and begs, pleads, “Hunter, please still be my friend! I miss you!” Oh, gag me.

 

D****t! Where the hell is he? This is too Goddamn nerve wracking! He would always do this, leave me waiting. I do love him horribly, though. And it’s so… stupid how much I love him. He was always late, he was messy, he wasn’t terribly funny, he couldn’t dress for s**t, and he was always way too obsessed with football to be healthy, but really, I was all these things that made me love him. Love is- love is so, so stupid.

 

Clay walks out of the door with That Girl. He makes up some lame excuse to stay behind (did she really believe that?), gives her a kiss on the cheek (the cheek? This is looking good), and she is off. Finally. That b***h.

 

“Hunter, you can come out now,” he says. I suddenly feel like crying. So, so stupid.

I will not cry, I will not cry.

 

Clay examines his shoe and I examine Clay and try and fail to forget it all. “I thought you were dead, at first,” he says.

 

He suddenly looks up and all thought leaves my skull, but I don’t let it show.

 

“Clay-“

 

“Why did you leave?” he asks, thankfully interrupting me.

 

“I- I had to get a way. Had to leave.”

 

“Hunter, I loved you. I would have travelled the world with you!”

 

I will not cry, I will not cry.

 

“I loved you, too,” I say. And quieter, “I still do.”

 

There was a Silence.

 

“You’ve never said that before,” he says in an almost whisper.

 

“But that’s why I left,” I continue, and Clay gives me a look like, You are a crazy person, Hunter Duncan. “I was scared, Clay!” I almost yell. “I was raised without affection, taught that love was fake and ridiculous from the very beginning.” I look down. “But I did stay faithful. In England, with the British accents! Are you understanding me, Clay Carpenter? I was gone for a year, a single bloody year, and I stayed faithful, and you go off and marry the first bird you meet?” I shake my head angrily for emphasis.

 

“I’m not leaving her for you.”

 

I will not cry, I will not cry.

 

            I stare at him hard and cold. “Then I guess we’re done here,” I say and walk off without any goodbyes.

 

            I hear him call out, “Can’t we at least be friends?!”

 

            I wipe the tears off my face.

Author's Note

Any criticism would be gratuitously appreciated.