Melanie, I was so ridiculous, if you only knew.
What happened then? Tell me.
Marc and Peter saw me drinking punch, but they thought it was fruit juice. Then I went off with Marc to the gym storage room. I started undressing, but he got angry. And suddenly my head started spinning—it was awful. I couldn't even stand anymore. Marc was talking, but I didn't understand everything. I felt like I was moving in slow motion.
I told you to drink just a little to loosen up, not to get drunk.
So he put me in the car and took me home. I think he carried me to my bed and then left.
That guy really is a gentleman, though. So what did you tell him?
I told him the truth, of course. I was so ashamed. He's pissed at you for giving me such a crappy idea, so expect a missile next time.
No big deal, I own what I did and said. But how did it end?
He broke up with me.
What???
I got exactly what I was trying to avoid with my stupid behavior. He's furious. He told me he loves me like crazy, but he's too angry, so he'd rather end the relationship.
Oh, Cathy, I'm so sorry. Do you want me to go talk some sense into him?
No, absolutely not. He needs to be left alone for now. And after all, he told me he loves me, so maybe not everything is lost.
********
One month later
Marc, come in! How are you?
Great—really good to see you. A guys' night sounded perfect, I've been swamped lately.
A beer to start?
Definitely. Up for a run tomorrow or are you busy?
Hang on, someone's ringing. Be right back.
Catherine???
Marc????
I don't believe in coincidences. Peter, what is this setup?
Before either of you says a word, you're both going to sit down calmly. Here—your beer… and you, Cathy, a Coke.
I'm going home.
Cathy, you sit down and you do not move your ass from that chair, and I'm not joking. So yes, I set you up to get you both here together. Let me talk first—you can complain afterward if you want. It's been a month now since that night that… ended badly, let's say.
But…
Let me finish. You'll talk later.
Since then—and as usual—you've both been coming to cry on my shoulder, venting, complaining, unloading your anger. Long story short: I can't take it anymore. I'm your best friend, I own that role, but watching you both miserable on your own sides just wasn't doable anymore. So if I want to get a hint of a normal life back, I figured I'd put you in the same room, make you talk face to face, and solve this very quickly. Okay?
…
You're allowed to say yes. That's all.
Yes.
Okay.
Good. Who wants to start?
I think it's really crappy to corner us like this, Peter. We're not kids.
Marc, I didn't ask for your opinion about the meeting. I asked you to start talking to Catherine. And yes—you are kids! "He told me that…" and "she did this…" and "then I said that…" so "I answered this…" That's kids' stuff, isn't it? Come on, I'll help you out. Who's happy about this breakup?
…
Who's relieved to be single again?
…
Who comes whining to their buddy Peter about how miserable they are?
Me.
Me.
Thanks for the honesty, both of you. Who regrets what happened?
Me.
Me.
Who's unhappy with the situation?
Me.
Me.
Alright. Now that we've established that, both of you get out of my place and go talk this out together, somewhere else, please.
But Peter…
There is no "but Peter." Out, you brats!
**************
Cathy, where are you going?
I'm going home.
No, you can't do that. He's right. His way of doing things was a bit unsettling, but… he's right. Would you rather grab a coffee or go for a walk to talk?
Let's walk. It'll be more discreet if we end up arguing. You didn't even get to drink your beer…
No, he completely killed my appetite. I was so stunned—I didn't think he'd ever do something like that.
We must have really pushed him to the edge this time…
Yeah, clearly.
So… where do we start?
I don't know. Tell me how things are going at university? Is it going well?
Yeah. More and more work, but I can't focus, I don't sleep very well. And you?
I had a bunch of exams that I somehow passed, but I don't really know how. Not much energy, no real motivation these days.
I miss you so much, Marc.
…
I constantly want to call you, so I end up calling Peter instead—that's why he snapped, I keep dumping everything on him. I can't work anymore, I'm scared all the time.
Scared? Of what?
That you'll meet someone else… and that because of my stupidity, I'll lose you for good.
Hey, hey, stop. Don't cry, Cathy. You know there aren't many girls in the Air Force. And since I barely lift my nose out of my books, unless I faint and get dragged to the infirmary, there's very little chance I'll meet another girl anytime soon. And besides… I really don't want to, you know.
Really?
I've been bugging Peter nonstop too. I thought he was talking about me earlier—I call him every night. I miss you so much too.
And since I'm the king of idiots, I didn't want to call you. I had all this anger inside me that I couldn't get rid of.
And when I saw you standing in the doorway… all I wanted was to take you in my arms.
I was so scared when I saw you. I just froze. I thought you were going to yell at me again—and you weren't even looking at me.
So if I sum this up… we've both been miserable on our own sides for a month… and driving Peter crazy over the exact same thing.
Yeah. That's why he finally snapped and brought us together today.
I think we should name our first son Peter, don't you?
First son? How many kids are you planning to have?
At least four, right?… when you're ready, of course…