Sometime shortly after getting back to the hotel, we decided that it would be a good idea to call all of our exes: Amanda's ex-boyfriend who cheated on her, Pigeon's ex-gay-best-friend, my & Monica's ex-roommate, and of course, Piano Man.
In our defense, we were actually trying to get ahold of that mutual friend who got my stuff from Piano Man with the intent of finally (three years later) giving it back to me. But unfortunately that friend knocked up his ex-girlfriend, who then decided, shortly after giving birth, that she "didn't want to share her baby with him." So last I heard, he was moving out of state. He's not on myspace, he's not on facebook, and the phone number I had for him just routes to a "full mailbox" message, so... Really, what else could we do?
And of course, like an idiot, Piano Man actually picked up his phone.
"How come I didn't get to be flower girl?" was the first thing Pigeon asked. Monica, who was actually holding the phone (although it was on loudspeaker), repeated: "Pigeon wants to know how come she didn't get to be flower girl."
"...I dunno," he said in the same halting-yet-hurried, nervous, annoyed, frustrated, and uncomfortable tone of voice he'd used the last time I talked to him, when I was asking whether he'd read my story.
"What do you mean you don't know? It seems like a pretty simple question," Monica countered. This too was reminiscent of that last conversation.
"I dunno," he said again. And this.
"Anyway, we just wanna know where [friend] is. Can you give us his number?"
"I don't have his current number," he said, mumbling something about them not really talking anymore. Why? Did [friend] tell your wife about how you cheat on her too?
"Ok, well, can you tell us what state he moved to?"
"I think he's living in California..."
Then Pigeon, in keeping with her unending quest to make people uncomfortable, interjected, "How's married life?"
"I dunno." Then a pause before he said, in the same uncomfortable, hurried tone, "Please don't call." And oddly, another pause before he hung up.
I, like a right idiot, sent him a text: "Sorry. That was Monica. We really did just want to know where [friend] is. But for what it's worth, I still miss you sometimes. Have a good night."
He never answered. And I, I am pathetic.
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A few days later, I would open up to Monica about the extent of the lingering Piano-Man damage, about the way he creeps into my thoughts at random, about the recurring dreams where we're trying to be friends (as I write this, I have to admit I had another one last night), and about how when I wake up from these dreams, I always feel so guilty because there's Lui sleeping next to me.
"And unlike Piano Man, Lui loves you," she interrupted.
"...Right. Exactly."
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