Change One Thing

I was too drunk, I realized that as I was ranting. About her, fucking Melissa, her cheating, and all the stupid stuff I should have never put up with. The overspending, the damn cat I didn't want that pissed on only my office chair, the lack of consideration, and all of the other little and big things I was so mad about.

"Did you know she tried to keep her keys?" I asked Grace.

"Yeah. You mentioned that before," she replied.

"I...shit." I studied her face. She had a look of slight exasperation, but also her trademark sympathetic half smile. "I'm sorry. I'm done. I'm done talking about it."

"It's okay. I get it, you're upset. You're frustrated, you're grieving the end of a relationship. It sucks."

Johnny Cash was playing on the jukebox, which seemed so cliche for my life right now, but then again, O'Flannagan's really was an old man bar typical of the type of place that would have Johnny Cash on the jukebox. We just liked it because it was charmingly low rent and had cheap beer.

I studied her face. She was sincere, but there was something playing behind her eyes, I knew. I'd known Grace for over 20 years, when we met at a college party. We hit it off immediately, and hooked up exactly once. Not too long afterwards, she put the brakes on us as a fling, and told me she was going through way too much internally to be a girlfriend to me, but somehow, we stayed best friends, and had been besties for all of the years afterwards. Two years later and a bunch of therapy, she came out as gay, changed her look slowly, and now, even though her face and eyes were that of a stunning Chinese-American girl, her close cropped emo haircut, tats, and multitude of piercings basically screamed which team she played for. I loved hanging out with her, because she was like the best of all attributes—she could drink beer, watch football with enthusiasm, and belch like a quake, but she also had actual insight into women and feelings. I had plenty of guy friends I genuinely loved, but Grace was who I came to for advice and understanding. She was smart, funny, and almost brutally honest. Which was why the question playing in the back of my mind scared me shitless—I knew she'd tell me the truth.

"Listen...um..."

"What?"

"I have to ask you something, and I want you to not try and spare my feelings, okay..." I started.

"Shoot," she shrugged.

"Do...do you think it's me?"

"What do you mean? Melissa was the cheater," she replied, looking away slightly.

I pressed on. "No. I mean...Melissa cheated on me. Before that, it was Candace, who also cheated on me..."

"She was a stripper and a drunk, and you never should have dated her for longer than a month..." she interjected.

"Yeah, I know, but before that, Theresa left me and moved back to St. Louis to be with her ex, mister successful surgeon, and now they're married with a baby..."

"...so you were her rebound, big deal..." she retorted.

"And, then before her, it was Claire, for three years, before she left me for another man. And we were engaged."

"You and her weren't compatible and you know it. She wanted to live in fucking Vermont, for god's sake."

"And now she does."

"Yeah, with three rugrats. She's living her dream. Mister 'I hate even the idea of kids,' she was completely wrong for you. You just got caught up in the fact that she was gorgeous and incredible in bed."

"I guess," I sighed.

"What?"

"I'm just...I just have been realizing lately that I've been in so many relationships. I know, it's kinda a New York thing to be single a lot, but, seriously, I'm gonna be 40 next year. You and Francesca have been together for 15 years now, a lot of my other friends have been in a relationship for a long time, and here I am, bouncing from girl to girl to girl. I've had something like 15 serious relationships, and a shitload of flings and one night stands, and I have yet to make anything work long term. Am I that awful? Or am I broken or something? Why does this keep happening to me?"

She sighed, looking down at the table. "Do you really want me to be honest here? Because I'm not sure you do. I can just be your emotional support person tonight and we can just have another couple rounds and call an Uber. This should just be a fun night." She looked up, into my eyes, and I saw genuine trepidation, which wasn't like her at all. This was a girl who once called a Hell's Angel who'd spilled her drink in a bar a bitch, then yelled at him, cornering him to the point where he bought her a new one as well as a round for me and her girl.

"It's...not that there's something deficient, it's just..."

"What?"

"Look, you're a bright, reasonably successful, good looking man, you've got a great heart, and I know sex isn't a problem for you from either the size or technique end, so maybe it's just that..."

I waited patiently for maybe 30 seconds before I grew upset and nearly yelled "Would you just fucking spit it out already?!"

"You...you're a settler, Marcus. You settle for what's enough, instead of fighting for what you should get."

"What...what do you mean?"

"I mean, you settle. In most areas of your life. A lot of the girls you've dated, they shouldn't have been a relationship. We all told you that, nicely, but we said it."

"I settle?"

"Yeah. You settle. In general, it's your personality, but you do that. You lack confidence sometimes when it comes to what you want."

I was stunned for a second. I never thought of myself as passive. I was the type of guy to walk up to the most attractive woman in any bar and hit on her. I'd dated plenty of gorgeous women, including an actress and an actual model at one point. Me, a settler?

"Look," she continued, "you remember that couples counselor that Joe dated?"

"Yeah, uh, Samantha, right?"

"Right. She always talked about how you need to pick someone who meets your top requirements. So what are your top requirements? I mean, we've talked about this, and I don't think a single girl you've dated in your adult life met your top 10, much less 15 out of your top 20"

"Does Francesca meet your top 20?"

"She hits at least 15, if not 17 or 18."

"So...I'm fucking this up?"

"Well, yeah. Look, Melissa was very pretty, and overall okay, but she...she could be really mean. You even called her out on it a few times."

"Okay. Well, then what about the others?"

"Well, Candace was a bombshell, but dumber than a box of rocks..."

"Actually..." I started to interject, but she glared at me and I paused, nodded assent, and tilted my head to indicate she should continue.

"Then Theresa: sweet girl, clever but not nearly as smart or as driven as you, but not only was she screamingly obviously still stuck on her ex, but she was a waitress who obviously just wanted someone to take care of her, and you obviously just wanted to be in a relationship. So you just went with it, even though she wasn't your ideal."

"Okay."

"Then Claire. Yes, I get the attraction, but again, she wanted kids and to live in the country. You don't want that. You were worried when your job was going to send you to Charlotte, for fuck's sake!"

"Well, that's a weird little town."

"And she was miserable in New York. So if you two had continued on, one of you would have been miserable with where you lived. That's a guarantee."

"Plus you tend to choose badly no matter what the options. Remember that party of my friend Alyssa's I took you to about two years ago? The big extravaganza out in the Hamptons?"

"Yeah, the costume deal."

"That's the one. Did you know there were four different girls I was trying to introduce you to all night, to see if I could maybe set you up with someone you'd match up with. One was a lawyer, another was a software manager just like you, another a doctor, and an accomplished author. Who did you leave with that night?"

"One of the catering waitresses."

"Yeah. A catering waitress. I introduced you girl after girl that was smart, successful, and beautiful, and you get with the vapid redhead with the gigantic jugs. Because she was easy, both as an option and to get into bed."

"Yeah."

"Did you ever see her again?"

"Nah, it was a one-time thing."

"The easy option."

"I guess."

"No, there's no guessing. And there's other areas, too. You didn't take Antony up on his offer to join their startup. If you'd done that, you'd own a percentage of that business, and you'd be way more successful than you are now. He owns a luxury apartment in Manhattan and you're renting a two bedroom in Brooklyn."

"Hey, there was no guarantee there. Plus, I like working at the bank."

"No you don't, you gripe about it regularly. It's okay, and I get it, it's relatively secure and you have good benefits, but you could have taken a chance instead of freaking out over the risk. You could have always gone back to your bank or to another one, if it didn't work out."

"Yeah, I suppose. But it was the safe thing to do."

"Exactly. You always do the safe thing that doesn't challenge you. I honestly think that if you could break through to why you always take the safe option, you'd make some real progress in your life."

"Okay. So how do I do that? I've talked to a therapist before, and it didn't seem to help much."

"I don't know...what...when did this start for you?"

"I...all my life, really."

"Your whole life?"

"Well, my adult life. God, I just...I wish there was a way to fix this all. Like, can I figure out what decision I made that fucked me over back in the day? Where did I take the safe path and choose to keep doing it?"

"It's a fair question."

"Yeah, I know, that's why I asked it!" I growled.

She paused deliberately, then leaned in and lowered her voice. "You know, there are ways to fix that."

"Okay," I said mockingly.

"No, I'm serious. It's not cheap, but it's possible."

"Sure, I just pony up a few grand, and someone takes a magic wand and whisks my life back into shape."

"No, not exactly. More like another chance."

"Another chance at what?"

"To get your life right. One choice, and the chance to redeem that mistake."

"Okay."

"But you'd only get one chance. And you'd need to make sure you get it right this time."

"Okay...are you telling me you have a time machine?"

"No, it's magic."

I burst out laughing. "Shit, why are you pulling my leg like this?!"

She stared back at me stone faced. "I'm not. If you're interested, I can get someone who will help you."

I stared at her in silence for almost a solid minute, unable to process what she was saying.

"Well? Yes or no?"

I was scared and confused. Part of me was sure this could be an elaborate joke, but I also trusted Grace. I studied her face and didn't see even a hint of a prank, so I took a deep breath, and decided that for once in my life, I was going to take the risk. "Yes."

"Okay. Let's go." Without another word, she got up, threw a some cash on the table for a tip, and waved goodbye to Bridgette the barmaid. I scrambled to catch up with her as she dashed out the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Chinatown," she responded as she dug out her keys. We got into her old little Lexus coupe, and she dug out her cell to send a text as she turned the car over. She waited a few seconds before receiving a reply, then sent another one, and said "Okay, she'll see you." She put the car in drive and took off abruptly. I was taken a little aback by the sudden burst of speed and then the aggressive way she took the corner, and sat back in silence. Grace, for her part, wasn't talking as she merged onto the freeway. Finally, after a few minutes, I dared to speak up.

"What are we doing, exactly?" I asked.

"I told you. Fixing your past."

"Okay...well, why are you driving so fast?"

"Because we have about 30 minutes to get to Chinatown."

"To see the person who's going to fix my life."

"Exactly."

"What is he going to do?"

"She is going to give you another chance."

"Another chance for what?"

"Another chance for the life you should have and should have had."

"Okay...so how does it work?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because it'll make a lot more sense when we get to it, and I'm not even sure if you'd believe me if I told you all of it."

"Okay..."

"Just trust me." She merged onto the Brooklyn Bridge, weaving in and out of the late night crowd. "Oh, it's going to be 10K."

"Ten thousand!!!"

"Yes. Five up front, and five when you get back."

"That's a lot! What the fuck is going on?!"

"Just believe me and trust me on this one when I tell you it's worth it."

"Grace, hold on. I trust you with my life. I even trust you with the life of my dog. But ten grand, for something I don't even know what it is, is just..."

"Weird bordering on stupid, I know. But trust me this much. Look, I know you've got it, so just believe me that this is something incredibly necessary for you to do, and it will be the best money you've ever spent." She exited the bridge, and I sat in stunned silence as we went through several quick turns before pulling up to a restaurant with a flickering neon sign.

"You brought me to dim sum?" I asked as we got out.

"No, this way," she said, pointing to an alley. She stepped two steps into the alley, and then knocked on an unmarked door.

The door opened a crack, and an elderly Asian woman said "Grace Wu, good to see you again, come in."

I started to follow her as she entered, but she held up her hand, and gave me the "2 minutes" signal, so I hung back. I heard discussion from behind the door and some slightly raised voices in Cantonese, but I was more weirded out by the fact that I was in a damp, gross alley in Chinatown at 1am. I looked around, and a junkie was shuffling along down the sidewalk. He stopped when he noticed me and asked for a dollar. When I said I had no change, he shrugged and moved on, but doubled back and said "Hey man, you know who you look just like? Lenny Kravitz!" Then he exploded laughing and walked away. I was even more weirded out how anyone could think my pale ginger ass could look like a black singer, and I remember thinking this night couldn't get any weirder. Which is funny in retrospect.

"Marcus!" Grace called out, waving me in. I quickly stepped in the door to a inside that was very overpowering with incense. "She'll see you," she began, "she didn't want to at first because you're white, but she knows me and my family well, and I basically begged and pleaded a good case for you. Just go with whatever she asks, and whatever you do, don't lie." She steered me into a room with a bunch of shelves full of knickknacks, and a table in the corner, where the older lady I had glimpsed earlier was sitting. Grace went to the far corner to sit in an armchair.

"Good evening Marcus. Or morning, perhaps? My friends call me Wing. Have a seat," she said, indicating the chair across the table. "Grace tells me you need help."

"I do," I nodded, sitting down.

"Okay. She makes quite the case for you. Says you're one of her oldest and best friends. So I'll help. Let's start by getting finances out of the way first, however?" She pulled out a tablet with a card reader, and I handed her a card, which she swiped. She smiled as it went through. "I understand if you have trepidation or questions. I absolutely promise you everything will be answered in time." I smiled weakly at her, and she dug out a deck of tarot cards and started laying them out. Was this what I came here for? I could get a stupid tarot reading for 15 bucks at the shitty psychic down the block. "Just trust me, and answer the best you can."

"Okay."

"I understand you pick the wrong woman. The safe women. All the time. And they hurt you."

"Yes."

"Ah..." she turned over two more cards, then looked up at me. "When your father died, did he say anything to you?"

"Yes," I replied a little confused.

"Which was?"

"He told me to remember that I was filled with greatness, that's why I was his smile partner."

"What did you think of that?"

"I thought it was the morphiene, to be honest. The cancer was hard on him." Okay, this was creepy. I looked inquisitively at Grace, and she shook her head to indicate she had no idea what was going on. I wasn't even sure if I had told her that, it was a weird memory and the only people there were me and him. The hairs on the back of my neck were slightly prickly.

"It was, partially. But he was trying to communicate something. When you were a baby, he used to tell your mom that you were his partner, because when one of you would smile, the other one would do it, too, without thinking."

"How did you know..."

"Just trust me. I can explain more later, but this is a gift. Passed on to me by my mother, and hers before her, etcetera. So, anyway, this thing, this bond. You two had it all your life. You were shockingly similar to him, no? Personality, sense of humor, temperament."

"Yes."

She turned over another card. "But that changed after he died."

"Yeah. He'd had this company, manufacturing some of the first mobile GPS units. He wanted me to take over the business when I was older, if I was interested, of course. But I was 17. And my uncle John was going to try and help out until I was old enough, but he was nervous, and drank a bit too much, and so..."

"You sold it," she said, cutting me off.

"Yes, my mom said we should sell it. So we did."

"Yes..."

"Should I not have?"

"Hmm? I don't think so. That was an unfortunate turn of events. It's beyond anyone's power to delay or change a death like his. Besides, the sale of his company paid for a lot, including your college, and your mom's next house. Also, the point of this is not to make more money. That is something anyone with luck and determination can do."

"What is the point, then?"

"To lose fear," she said, simply, fixing her gaze on me.

"Okay. Well, how do I do that?"

"Tell me," she asked, getting up and going to a teapot across the room on the stove, "how many girls have you slept with?"

I shrugged and said, "Well, I'm really not sure how..."

"No lying. You have a little brown moleskin book with them all listed since you started."

"Uh...287." I looked over at Grace, whose eyes were bugging out, and just shrugged.

"Yes. Do you know why?"

"I...like sex?"

She chuckled as she mixed a couple of powders into the teacup she had poured. "Of course you do. I'm 73 and I still love it, even though my husband doesn't have nearly the energy he used to. But, there's another reason. Do you know what it is?"

I was more confused than I ever had been. "No."

She chuckled again softly as she set the teacup back down in front of me. "Because it's the most primal thing we have, and, just like your father, you need something you can control. Something you can win. But instead of business, you choose women. Because they're easier. But in so doing, you have missed your calling. Don't drink this yet," she added, setting the teacup in front of me.

I nodded. "Okay. So what is the answer? Less women?"

"No. I'm no prude or judge. The answer isn't less women. It's more of you, and less loss of you." She let a pregnant pause build for a few agonizing moments. "You need to stop losing yourself with them. Only then will you find one who will not want to take you over or control you."

"How do I do that?"

"We need to take you back to the first time you lost yourself with a girl. And then, you need to change that decision. The one you made that day that set up each and every one of these events. Take two sips of your tea, no more."

I brought the cup to my mouth, and the first sip was disgusting. I forced myself not to choke, swallowing hard, then took the second, which wasn't quite as bad. "Okay. Which decision was that?"

"One you made with a woman. I can tell you no more than that. But I will put you back to right before you made that decision."