Chapter 4
Two months in Doobaie.
My life had done a complete 180.
I was living in a company-provided apartment with a killer view, 1,900 square feet, floor-to-ceiling windows looking straight out at the gulf.
And I was rolling around in a company-provided Mercedes S-Class.
On weekends, Tom would drag me to yacht parties.
Tom said I had to go, networking was everything, so skipping wasn't an option.
The first time, I kept to myself in a corner, just sipping juice.
Then a girl came over to hit on me, blonde hair, blue eyes, and about 5'9".
She asked me, "What do you do?"
"Finance," I said.
"Interesting," she leaned in a bit. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
I stepped back. "Wait, is this juice free for refills?"
She blinked, caught off guard.
I held up my empty glass. "I'm done with this, wanted another, but can't find the waiter."
She blinked, then cracked up and walked away.
Tom popped up next to me, shaking his head like I was hopeless. "Dude, are you seriously clueless? She was totally flirting with you, and all you cared about was juice refills?"
"I was thirsty," I said.
"Is your head just filled with work and juice or what?" he groaned.
"And working out," I added.
Tom took a deep breath, pressed his hands together, and looked up at the sky. "What did I do to deserve a friend like you?"
I never told him the real reason, kept it all to myself.
It wasn't like I was against dating.
It was just that those five years had messed me up for good.
Whenever the word 'woman' popped up, all I could see in my mind was that damn DNA report.
It was all there in black and white.
Exclusion of paternity.
Whatever.
I was doing fine on my own.
Just me, no one else.
Making money.
Working out.
Drinking juice with free refills.
That was all I needed.
But life was funny like that, the more people tried to keep things simple, the more it threw curveballs their way.
*****
Month three.
Something shifted.
That afternoon, I was working late at the office, putting together an analysis report on the energy sector.
My phone rang.
It was an unknown number from back home.
I didn't answer.
It rang again.
Still didn't answer.
The third time, I just hit decline.
Then a message popped up on WhatsApp.
It was a screenshot Tom forwarded to me.
It was a post from one of my old colleagues.
The caption read: [Heard Alex's wife is going crazy looking for him. She even called the cops, saying he's missing.]
Underneath were all the comments.
[Did he get cheated on and just disappear?]
[No way, Alex is such a good guy, he'd never do something like that.]
[His wife's gorgeous. If I were him, I'd never walk away.]
I just glanced at it and deleted the message.
Tom messaged me: [Dude, your ex-wife is freaking out. Want me to step in and deal with it for you?]
I replied: [Nah, don't bother. I mailed the divorce papers before I left. Whether she signs or not, that's her problem.]
Tom: [You actually sent them?]
Me: [Yeah, sent them by mail. Dropped the package at her door before I took off.]
Tom: [What about the assets?]
Me: [The house and the car are hers. I took the savings.]
Tom: [How much did you take?]
Me: [25 thousand dollars.]
Tom sent a string of ellipses.
Then he replied: [Man, you really know how to let go.]
Letting go? Seriously?
No, that wasn't it.
I just didn't want to waste my time on her anymore.
My parents paid the down payment for that house, and I handled the mortgage every month.
But I didn't want it anymore.
Just thinking about that house brought back all those five years.
Every night I'd work overtime until ten, and she'd be on the couch, playing on her phone, smiling sweetly like everything was perfect.
Whenever David came over for dinner, she'd put on that 'just friends' act.
And when Ryan called me "Dad," I actually felt real happiness.
It made me sick.
All of it made me sick.
I wasn't taking a dime from that house.
Let's just call it tuition for life.
From here on out, it was just me against the world.