Once You Love

                                  ONCE YOU LOVE

It was a sultry afternoon on the first day of August.
Charlie Bruce was sitting alone at a corner table in a bookstore coffee shop, drinking a lemonade and reading the Economist. The door opened and Robby Winslow walked in.
"You look like hell," Robby said.
"Hello to you, too."
"What's that you're reading? The Economist?"
"What about it?"
"Nothing. It's a splendid magazine, No, I mean it,
old chap, it's a truly splendid magazine, absolutely topping."
"All right, knock it off."
"I say, old chap, would you care for a spot of tea?"
"No."
"That's good. I'd hate to think you were turning into a tea swelling Brit."
"No, not British. French, maybe, but definitely not British."
"No, no, old chap, stay just the way you are."
"How am I?"
"Don't you know?"
"No, I haven't a clue"
"Why you're an all-American boy, your mother's pride and Joy. You're a hardworking, churchgoing, God—fearing, flag-waving patriot. You're a boy scout on Prozac, the very model of a modern American."
"What about you? What are you?"
"Why I'm a literary whore, of course."
"What if I want to be a literary whore too?"
"No, no, you have to stay just the way you are. Your country needs you, your family needs you, I need you."
"You're certainly in a good mood."
"I'm in a fabulous mood and why not?"
"I take it the book is doing well."
"It's doing splendid, old chap, just topping."
"How well?"
"Well enough that they'll let me write another one."
"Is that enough?"
"It is for me. What about you, what's wrong with you? Did I mention you look like hell?"
"Yeah, you mentioned that."
"So, what's up?"
"I haven't been getting much sleep."
"Cassie keeping you busy, huh? You know, with a hot piece of ass like that, you're not supposed to get any sleep."
"Be nice, okay?"
"Okay, but seriously, what are you bitching about? You know, isonomy and getting laid are two different things."
"Not that it's any of your business, but Cassie's in Miami ."
"What, you got something going on the side already?"
"Will you knock it off?"
"Okay, what's wrong?"
"I had a dream about Caitlin."
"Really? Do tell."
"Well, we were in a room somewhere. The room was full of people, but it was like they weren't really there. I asked her if I could come see her sometime and she said yes and I was so happy, happier than I ever was when we were together."
"That's it?"
"Yeah, that's it."
"So what, man. It was just a dream. Haven't you ever heard of wish fu1fillment?
"But that's just it, I don't want to be with her."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes."
"Come on, Charlie. You can bullshit me, if you want, but don't bullshit yourself."
"Look, I'm over her, I've been over her for a long time."
"Yeah, right. That's why you looked like you'd just seen a ghost that night we ran into her and her lover du jour."
"That was a long time ago too."
"It was last fall."
"Well, it seems longer than that."
"An eternity, no doubt."
Charlie pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. Robby gestured toward the no smoking sign. Charlie dropped his beat up Zippo back in the pocket of his cotton shorts. He slowly twirled the unlit cigarette.
"I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me. "I'm happy with Cassie, I wrote almost every day last month and it was going good too. Sunday night, I went to bed happy, then I had some stupid dream and I woke up Monday morning wanting to blow my brains out."
"Hey, it happens to everybody."
"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier."
"You want some advice?"
"Sure.
"You need to get back to work. Keep busy and just don't think about Caitlin."
"I worked the last three days."
"Really? What are you working on?"
"I'm writing a story about me and Caitlin."
"Why?"
"I thought I could get over it by writing about it."
"Not likely."
"I've gotten over other things by writing about them."
"Maybe so, but Caitlin's not the kind of girl you get over."
"How do you know?"
"I know. Believe me, I know. You loved her without reservation didn't you?"
"Yes. I would have done anything in the world for her. I love Cassie, but it's not the same. I would have done anything Caitlin wanted. I mean it, anything.
"I know, and you can only love a woman like that once. When it's over, something inside you dies and you can never love a woman the same way again."
"I do love Cassie though, and I don't want to hurt her. She's had a hell of a life already."
"I know."
"So, what do I do?"
"Let me ask you something, if Caitlin called you right now and begged you to come back, would you?"
"I don't know."
"That's the wrong answer."
"I can't help how I feel."
"No, but you can help what you do. Caitlin's dangerous, Charlie. She lives too far out on the edge. She's dangerous to herself and she's dangerous to anyone around her."
"I know. I always did, but I thought I could help her."
"You thought you could save her."
"Yes."
"Let me give you same advice, Charlie. You need to stop trying to save other people, 'cause your grip on the life boat ain't that strong to start with."
Charlie suddenly felt sick and disgusted, with himself and with the entire conversation.
"Goddamn it all to hell," he said.
"That's the spirit."
"Let's get out of here."
"Okay."
"Let's get drunk."
"Okay."
"I want to get sloppy, falling down, stupid drunk."
"Now you're talking."
Charlie stood up, lit his cigarette and walked toward the door
"Don't you want your magazine?" Robby asked.
"No. I don't want to think anymore. I'm through with thinking."
"That's the spirit. Thinking is highly overrated."
They walked out onto the sidewalk. It was late afternoon and the blacktop parking lot was sweltering under the August sun. A city bus was idling by the sidewalk. The air was heavy with diesel fumes.
"Where can we go?" Charlie asked.
"I know a place a couple of miles from here. It's called Kelly's tavern. Ever been there?"
"No. What's it like?"
"They have lots of booze."
"Sounds like the place to be."