We were drunk. 

That’s the excuse we’ll give ourselves. It’s not a bad one. An easy and believable rationalization, but we both know it’s because it’d been too damn long. It had been too long since we indulged our animalistic needs, and when it’s been too damn long, whiskey on ice is the perfect anesthetic to dull lucid thoughts into reckless desire. 

Kate shows me the positive test. Two pink bars.

“You did this to me. You couldn’t hold it in?”

“Guess not. What do you want to do?”

“I’m too old, Ted. How am I supposed to do this?”

That’s all she says as she walks out of the bathroom, leaving the two pink bars face-up next to the sink. Bits of discarded beard stubble line the drain. Another forgotten mess. 

“Too old.”

Kate’s voice echoes from the hall.

We were drunk. These things happen. I used to be so good at self-control. 

*

“Morning, Dad. I think my tablet broke.” Samantha talks with her mouth full of toast. Her hair hangs around her shoulders in two long braids. That’s the way she always wears her hair for a jog. 

“I wish you wouldn’t run alone this early in the morning. The streets are too empty. Who knows what creeps are out there.”

She ignores me and smacks the edges of her tablet against the kitchen table while taking gulps from a perspiring water bottle. 

Kate stares out the window into the backyard. “Should we cancel the landscaper for the rest of the summer?”

An open envelope on the table gets my attention. It’s a letter and an unpaid invoice from the landscaper. Prices have gone up, they say. It mentions inflation and how they simply can’t get men. No one wants to work anymore, the letter says as it slips further into a rant instead of a rationalization. Maybe no one does want to work anymore, but the way I remember it, no one’s ever wanted to work. Not honestly, anyway.

“Do you plan on eating any breakfast?” Kate’s still staring out that window while I’m gauging how much more time I’ll need before we can leave. 

“I had a multivitamin. I’m pretty full.”

Samantha chuckles without looking up from her busted tablet. Kate gives me nothing but a sigh.

“No, coffee is fine. I can grab a bagel in the breakroom. Elaine brings them in on Fridays.”

*

Elaine hands me a rye and smiles with a mouth as wide as her hips stretching the edges of her blue summer dress.

“Chive cream cheese, right, Ted?”

Chives always get stuck in my teeth, and cream cheese tastes like a glob of sour soap.

“Sure. That’d be great. Thanks.”

Someone slaps me on the back with a meaty paw, and I nearly drop my bagel.

“Ted. Hey, man. Get those invoices paid yet? I got ten grand in commissions pending.”

“Hi, Jim. Invoices at home. Invoices at work. When did my life become unpaid debts?”

The company’s lead salesperson, the man everyone in the office calls Big Jim, isn’t smiling. His Friday casual polo is filled out so tightly it looks painted on.

“I can’t get the client to respond. They say our software doesn’t work so they won’t pay. I’ll email again today, and then we have to turn it over to collections.”

“Ted. Don’t email. Pick up the phone. All right?”

“They’re your customer, Jim. Don’t you own the relationship?”

Big Jim swings his wide shoulders around to face me. I swear I catch him flexing under that polo.

“We all own the relationship, Ted. I own the selling part of it. You own the part that gets them to pay their fucking bills.”

*

A half-eaten rye bagel sits at the bottom of the trash barrel under my desk, and black coffee grows stale in a paper cup beside my keyboard. I pick up the handset, dial the phone number from the invoice displayed on my computer screen, and get an immediate voicemail service. 

“Good morning. My name is Ted. I’m from Defender Agents. We’re a software vendor that sold your company a security solution back in January. I show here an outstanding balance of three-hundred thousand dollars. This was with net forty-five payment terms. It’s been almost six months, and we haven’t received payment yet. I have a copy of the invoice sent to your accounts payable department. Can you please ensure that my message is forwarded to their attention? Any levers you can pull to expedite would be appreciated. I look forward to hearing back. Thank you.”

I hang up the phone and take a sip of cold coffee. An instant message dings on my computer. It’s a shrug emoji from Big Jim. 

Elaine shuffles by with an ear-to-ear grin splashed across her face. Her blue summer dress strains with each step. Everything here is a bad fit. I kill the coffee and pitch the empty cup in the trash, then walk the route through the office that avoids Big Jim’s desk on my way to take a piss. His voice carries across the office like a bullhorn. He makes sure everyone can hear him crushing deals. Ten grand of his commission bonus is hanging over my head. Ten grand would pay off my Corolla and buy a trip to the Big Easy. That’s the kind of place a man can get lost in his excesses. 

While I’m daydreaming about spending Big Jim’s money, Kate’s voice jumps into my head. “Too old.”

The funny thing is, Kate’s barely aged a day in my eyes. For all the years we’ve been together, it’s my face in the mirror that’s losing all the remnants of the past.