Everything Changes

There are decisions to be made, but you haven’t made them yet. You have an opportunity—one I blew—to do everything in your power to look into yourself, I mean, really look into your heart, and make the right one. You should embrace where you are now, see it for the blessing that it is. I’ve been in my after for almost twenty years, and I have to tell you, it has not been a picnic. I often think back to the times right before I destroyed my marriage, and I wish someone like me had shown up and pointed out to me that I was in my before. Maybe I would have pushed myself more, to understand myself and figure out what was really in my heart.”
    He sits back in his chair, somewhat breathless from the speech he’s just given.
    “Norm,” I say.
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it,” he says, beaming.
    Before we leave the restaurant, Norm heads to the back to personally hand Penny her tip, clasping her hand in both of his. He whispers something to her, and, unbelievably, she leans forward and gives him a quick peck on his cheek, casting a meaningful look in my direction. In that instant I’m able to see him through her eyes, his handsome smile, his kind expression, and I realize that I’ve sold him a bit short. “Don’t forget,” he calls loudly to her as we head for the door. “Fat people try harder!” He pats his gut as his bellowing laugh rattles the windows.
    We step wordlessly out onto Broadway, into a gusty autumn night. The days have been getting shorter for a while now, but the early onset of night is still unsettling to me. I just want everything to slow the hell down for a minute. Some kids in a tricked-out Hummer nod in time to the rap song playing through their speakers at full blast, and Norm briefly breaks into a little dance, shuffling his legs and snapping. His face is flushed from walking, and his hair is instantly blown wild by the wind and now sticks out in stiff, haphazard angles behind each ear. He walks the sidewalk like a dervish, openly ogling the women, nodding at strangers, and greeting doormen like he owns the block. When I was a kid, it really felt like he did, and now I wonder if he was the popular character I’ve remembered, or if he was as much of an oblivious ass then as he is now, and I was just unqualified to recognize it. I’m still reeling from our conversation. Opening up like that had not been on my agenda, and it’s left me feeling vaguely disappointed. I always dreamed, or planned really, that he’d come back, broke and contrite, to find me having succeeded in all that he failed in. I’d be wealthy from my various entrepreneurial enterprises, happily married to a beautiful woman, and maybe even a young father in my own right. Despite my anger, I’d be forgiving, would write him a substantial check to help him out and savor the expression on his face when he saw the amount. And now he’s finally arrived, as if on cue, and all I’ve done is show him what a mess I am. I don’t know how he got me to talk, but no matter, the dream is dead. And as I watch him in my periphery, huffing proudly along the sidewalk like he’s leading a marching band, no doubt thrilled that he’s managed to pierce my defenses, I can feel the powerful resentment reasserting itself, filling me like mercury, and if he looks at me right now, if he dares shine the light of that shit-eating grin into the shadows of my cave, I know I’ll cheerfully strangle him.
    And let me tell you, that perennial erection of his is not helping his case any.

Chapter 18
    Morning. Dr. Sanderson warned me that I might experience some discomfort urinating in the days immediately following the procedure. It turns out the good doctor has understated things a bit. A hot, searing pain rips through me, like I’m pissing molten lead, and I let out an agonized cry as I double over in shock, splashing the floor and my legs in the process. What little urine has made it into the bowl is dark with blood. I stagger into the shower and finish there, groaning softly as my bladder empties. The final drops pass through me like shards of glass, and then, miraculously, the pain is gone. If I had to guess, I’d say that today is not going to be one of my better days.

    This is what happens. You get to your office and everything looks different. Nothing is, of course, but the place feels suddenly alien, like it’s been replaced with a perfect replica of itself. You say hello to your