Superman

Back in March, I received an unexpected phone call from one of my closest friends. I will call him Zach to protect his privacy. “What’s up, bro,” I asked. “It is great to hear from you.”

Without any introduction at all, he unleashed a torrent of words: “I grabbed my granddaddy’s pistol and my grandmother’s wedding ring. I stumbled out the back door onto the porch, my head dizzy with disbelief.”

“Zach, what in the hell are you talking about?” Pistol, Ring, Dizzy? Disbelief? I had no idea what he was talking about, yet the desperation in his voice was gripping.

“She left me. My wife left me,” he continued. Honestly, I was shocked. “I don’t know what to say. Zach, I am so sorry,” I managed. I tried to listen, empathize, and decipher the ramblings of a man rebelling against his crumbling universe.

“Zach, why the pistol, the ring?”

“I don’t know, Matt,” he said sheepishly. “That pistol and that ring are the most valuable tangible items I own. They make me feel tethered to reality. They represent unconditional love, strength, stability. It was pure instinct, if nothing else, I have to protect these things,” he said.

I interrupted, “Where is she? Where is your daughter, Lucy? Is she seeing someone else? What are you going to do? Are you okay?”

“Matt, I have no idea where she is. Lucy is with me. Yes, she has found someone, and I think it’s been going on for a while. I have no clue what to do. I am not okay. Actually, this is the absolute worst…