Being Fitz

Chapter 1-2

It usually didn’t take long before the crazies boarded my bus. I’d been driving twelve-hour shifts for over six years, and my current route began at five in the morning. I was typically worn to bits by the time I clocked out. The route itself wasn’t so bad, minus some of the other road users out there—it was the people, mostly. The regulars and I got along. Mrs. Manning, a seventy-something widow who greeted people at Walmart, was always so sweet, giving me cookies whenever she saw me. Then there was Mr. Bertrand, the financial planner who had gotten me into investing years ago and always had a tip handy. My little nest egg grew daily.

There were others like them, but then there were the passengers who played music without headphones, or got into loud arguments. Those were the kinds of folks who drove me nuts. But I had empathy for the homeless and the mental and physical challenges that many faced—it hurt my heart to see anyone suffering. Reminded me too much of my dad who’d died seven years before.

It still hurt to think about him and his struggles to just…be. Dad had been so strong, up until the time he started to forget things. We were all each other had had, and I’d refused to put him in a home. I owed him so much for his love and unfailing support—it was the least I could do. I’d watched over him as he’d deteriorated, using up all our combined savings after quitting my former job as an associate professor at a university to take care of him twenty-four-seven. It had been a stressful and depressing time, for both of us.

When it was time for my lunch break after a particularly difficult morning two days after Jerry’s ass-fix, I was beyond relieved. “You look like you could take somebody’s head off,” Randy Holton, a fellow driver and good friend said as he sat next to me in the breakroom at the bus depot.

Randy and I had hit it off immediately when we’d met on my first day. He had taken me under his wing, trained me on the routes, and given me some tips for surviving the brutal world of customer service and people management as a bus driver. The only reason I’d survived the first month was because of him. A freshman class of know-it-alls and malcontents had nothing on this.

“Had to throw four people off the bus this morning,” I said. “One guy tried to get on the bus without paying and got into a pissing contest about it; this one chick was arguing with a guy who might have been her boyfriend, then fists started flying. The other one…” I sighed and drank some Gatorade. “If the afternoon is worse than that, you might hear about an incident on the news.”

Randy laughed, teeth white against brown skin. “You always get the nuts. It only happens to me every other month or so. Maybe it’s the power of attraction.”

“I guess they like me,” I replied, shaking my head. I idly wondered if there was a sign hovering over me that said, “Sucker: come one, come all.” The universe and I needed to talk. I focused on finishing the BLT and chips that were to tide me over till dinner time.

“What you need,” Randy said, “is a steady boyfriend and regular s*x. Then, even if things are shitty at work, you won’t even think about it. That’s how it is with me and Charlene.” His sappy smile said it all. Randy and Charlene had been married for twelve years and had three kids. I’d seen all the pictures. Repeatedly.

“Not all of us are as lucky as you, man,” I replied, my mind, unfortunately, taking that moment to wonder who Jerry was screwing right now. He tended to come over to my place a couple times a month, and I had no delusions about what he did the rest of the time—at least I didn’t, anymore. I really needed to figure out how to say “no” to the bastard.

“Hey, man, the right guy is out there for you. And no, Jerry is not it.” We’d had this discussion before. “Be patient and don’t sell yourself short. Any man would be lucky to have you, and I mean that sincerely.”

I smiled. “You always know how to make me feel better. Why couldn’t you be interested in men?”

“Them’s the breaks, buddy.” He laughed, clapped me on the back before tossing the remains of his lunch in the trash, and heading back to work. I followed shortly afterward.

* * * *

The rest of my shift was uneventful, thankfully, and since I didn’t have to work the weekend, I was free to sleep in, clean my apartment, and veg in front of the TV for the next two days. I was even whistling to myself as I took the stairs instead of the elevator up to the fifth floor—my main form of exercise, aside from the short walk I took sometimes in the park on my days off, just to get outside.

I exited the stairwell on my floor, panting lightly, and sauntered down the hall as I caught my breath, turning the corner to the right. As I fumbled in my pockets for the keys, I happened to look up and froze. Jerry and Henry were pressed together against Henry’s door, oblivious to the world. Their mouths were locked and tongues visible as they made out in porn star fashion. I stared, speechless. Henry’s leg was around Jerry’s hip—yeah, he was that limber—and they humped a little, uncaring that anybody could see them.

Did they have to look so good together, some part of me begrudgingly noted, Henry’s light to Jerry’s dark, short to tall, fitting like puzzle pieces? Jerry had never kissed me like that, even in the beginning. Our chemistry hadn’t been instant combustion. More like: he’s available, why not? I should have caught a clue then, but I’d seen what I wanted to. Jerry had never held my face so tenderly in his hands. I briefly wondered what I could offer to make him act that way with me but realized if it hadn’t happened by now, it never would, which was painful to admit. I was sure somewhere in my psyche, the words “it’s about damn time” were doing gymnastics with glee.

I made myself move and unlocked the door, going inside quickly to block out the sight that would have me howling at the unfairness of it all, if I had any tears left. I hadn’t cried since my dad died. Rapunzel meowed loudly from the kitchen and I hurried over to feed Her Highness. “You wouldn’t desert me for another owner, would you, sweetie?” I asked as I rubbed her white and gray coat with one hand. She ignored me in favor of kitty kibble. Story of my life.

After taking a quick shower and heating up leftover turkey casserole, I settled on the couch—Rapunzel on my lap—and watched whatever was on tap from Netflix. Maybe I should just give up on men. My experiences, limited as they had been, were decidedly poor and I was too old to still be dealing with users and flakes and wannabees.

I needed to find my backbone and rescue my pride, dammit.