Stonemouth

‘But you’re the bigger idiot,’ Ryan tells me, passing me a joint (one of Ferg’s; I can tell by the tightness, immaculate rolling technique and obsessive attention to detail). ‘I tried really hard to keep hold of her, Stu. You just threw her away.’

I take a good deep toke, to avoid having to respond to this. I shake my head once instead, that sort of quick one-two that more acknowledges than denies. I let some smoke leak down my nostrils.

‘You just threw her away,’ Ryan repeats, wagging his finger at me, in case I didn’t hear him the first time. ‘That was…that was idiotic, Stewart,’ he tells me. He taps himself on the chest. ‘I just …I just …’ Ryan is sort of staring into the middle distance and can’t decide what he he just. ‘I just…wasn’t up to keeping her, I guess,’ he concludes, and sounds sad, as though this has just occurred to him and it’s a terrible truth. He coughs, pulls himself up straighter. ‘D’you know a thing I heard?’

This sounds more promising. I’ve breathed out. The doobie has been handed on to a passing Ferg. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘Ellie had this thing, with this guy? Lecturer, at Aberdeen? Last year. Well, started year before that, ended last year. Or, like, maybe it ended earlier this year?’

At least I’m not being bombarded with irrelevant detail here. Smothered with irrelevant vagueness, maybe. ‘Really?’ I say.

‘Anyway, went on for a couple of years. This guy was older? He was, like, thirty, maybe even more. Seemingly happily married. Two kids, as well. Devoted father and all that shit? Apparently the wife had no idea. Anyway, last…earlier this year, whenever, this guy suddenly leaves his wife and kids, just walks out one day and he’s on Ellie’s doorstep at this flat she has in Aberdeen, but — and this is the point, Stu; this is the point,’ he tells me, tapping an index finger against my chest. ‘Ellie wouldn’t even let him in. Told him to go back to his wife. The thing, the affair ended right there. He never even got to touch her again.’ Ryan’s eyes are wide at this.

‘Jeez,’ I say.

Ryan nods enthusiastically. ‘He thought, this poor bastard thought he was making this enormous gesture, ultimate romantic … like, gesture? Walking out on his wife, his whole family, maybe throwing away his job, friends too and saying like, Hey, I’m yours, to Ellie; look what I’ve sacrificed for you!’ Ryan snaps his fingers in front of my eyes. ‘Cut him off dead. Just like that. Wasn’t what she wanted. Poor fuck had to check into a hotel. Wife started divorcing him but took him back eventually after … I don’t know; fuck knows how much begging. Even then only for the kids cos they missed him so much and it’s still separate rooms and he’s like, he’s fucked, man. I mean, not getting any, but he’s fucked, man, just fucked.’

‘Maybe he should have mentioned to Ellie about giving everything up for her, before he went ahead and did it.’

‘Fucking obviously he should have done that, man,’ Ryan says, waving his arms around, ‘but he thought he was being, like, romantic? Like it would be the best surprise ever? Fucking had that thrown back in his face, poor fuck.’ He pulls hard on his bottle of Bud.

‘Yeah, but you’re not blaming Ellie, are you?’ I ask. ‘It was the lecturer guy—’

‘No, but …’ Ryan shakes his head. ‘No. He was an idiot. Like you were an idiot.’ Ah, we’re back to that. Ryan jabs himself in the chest with his finger again. ‘Like I was an idiot to think I could keep her when all she wanted was …’ Ryan shakes his head, staring into the middle distance. ‘I don’t even know what she wanted,’ he says quietly. ‘To be married? Prove she could keep a guy, not have him …’ He slouches down, legs spread, head lowered as he inspects his beer bottle. ‘Be normal, or something,’ he says, voice close to a murmur, barely audible. Then he looks at me, suddenly looking lost and hopelessly vulnerable. ‘We were going to have a kid, did you know that?’ he asks me. Fuck, I think he’s going to start crying.

‘I heard,’ I tell him. ‘I’m really sorry about that. Seriously; don’t know how any part of that feels, but I’m really sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Neither of you did.’

Jeez, I’m welling up myself here. Some of it will be inebriation-inspired, temporary-best-buddy-in-the-world syndrome, but not all of it. Of course I feel sorry for the poor bastard. When I heard Ellie had been pregnant and then lost the child, I don’t think I spared Ryan a second thought; whether you’re a man or a woman, straight or gay, your first feeling is for the woman. But just because it might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her doesn’t mean it can’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, too.

Who knows what might have been different for Ryan if the child had been born? He and Ellie might still be together, one happy family. He might still have her, have the sort of life I guess he wanted, or that Ellie wanted and he was happy, grateful to be part of. Who knows?

‘Wasn’t meant to be,’ Ryan mumbles.