Clarity in Amsterdam, Part Four

Continuing writings from travel about a year ago...


PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE

As Edmond and I walk to the bar for our chat, I wonder how drunk I should get before I start spilling my guts about all the bad things that have happened alongside my dubious choices. Edmond and I have known each other over twenty years. He was the only friend I had for a couple of those years. We've both done our share of drugs and other such misdemeanors and have told each other all of our hits and misses, fuck ups and illegalities, joys and successes, and everything in between. I haven't told anyone some of the things that happened over the past year; my work, my marriage, money, family disintegration, mounting debt. Hiding all of my mistakes has given them a sort of invincible mystique in my mind. I feel that these things are too personal and too incriminating to divulge to anyone, but I also feel that I have to share my fuck ups to let go of them.

I decide I should get very drunk before sharing all of the things I want to tell him. I feel that our friendship will be quite different after this conversation, either from what I tell him, what he tells me, or both.

We drink Heineken, the easiest drink to find in Amsterdam. We sip, making small talk about various lingering memories from childhood, how we’ve changed since our teenage years so long ago, and the wonderful experiences of the trip so far. We only get through two Heinekens. Finally, one of us starts the confessions.

“So, you know how there were things I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“Well, it’s been hard to think about talking about it, because I haven’t told anyone. You’ll be the first person to hear about these things.”

“Same here. Did you know that I hadn’t broken up with my last girlfriend before I started seeing my wife?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I mean, obviously she wasn’t my wife yet, and I didn’t even know she was going to become my wife, but Margaret and I hadn’t ended our relationship.”

“You were seeing her for a long time.”

“Yeah, I was. So, I cheated.”

“Maybe, I suppose. But look where you’ve ended up.”

“I’ve always felt bad about that. I wasn’t done before I moved on. It was really dishonest.”

"It's really not so bad. I mean, I stole money from my job.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I had no money at the time. There wasn’t enough money coming in to support us both because she was looking for work for months and we were living off my salary, and there just wasn’t enough. We didn’t have enough for the bills and food. I didn’t steal to buy myself something nice. We were living off peanut butter and tortillas for weeks. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I took money to get us food. Now that’s dishonest.”

“Yeah, but what choice did you have? You did what you had to do to survive.”

“That’s the rationalization, but it’s still stealing.”

“That was what you had to do at that time. I think you did what a lot of other people did would have done in your situation.”

“Maybe. It doesn’t excuse me. I ended up taking over $500.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I never bought anything nice. It was just for food.”

“You needed it to survive.”

“I don’t know. Sorry I cut you off. You really don’t need to feel bad about what happened with you and Margaret. It’s what was meant to be.”

“What kind of person does that make me? Someone who does that?”

“I can’t say. All I know is that you were ready to move on. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

"You and me both."

“Fucking cheers.”

“Fucking cheers.”

Beer glasses clink.

“Thanks for listening to my shit.”

“Hey, thanks for mine. You've been my best friend for over 20 years. I couldn't tell this to anyone but you. James and Dan wouldn't understand.”

“Yeah. You were my first friend in L.A. and you've always been there for me over the whole time. To me, that says you’re loyal. You don’t need to feel bad about not finishing one girl before starting another.”

"Jesus. Well, don’t think about all the other shit. Think about your wife and how you can help each other. All that other shit will work itself out."

"I’ve made such a fucking mess. I don't know what anyone else would think of me."

"Same."

No changes yet.

The shit will continue.

PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN