Page 81 of Wingmen

Hey viejo.

It hithim like a freight train.

He couldn’t decide if it was worse than nothing at all. His heart was going a hundred billion miles an hour and this hadstopped it dead. He sat staring at it while an insanely complicated avalanche of feelings fell through him, then he locked the phone and set it aside. If Elliot wanted to talk to him, he was going to have to do better than that.

Where was he?

Right: looking at the mountain of pills he’d just shaken out on the comforter and wondering how many he could take at once with a glass of wine without lethally dosing his liver.

Steps.

Five made sense. It was safer, and he could taper off for longer, which was what this was all about. Maybe even lay off the wine until he was done with this. Probably for the best: it was only gonna make him fat–

The phone buzzed.

Dustin glanced at it. The blue light from the screen lighting up the dim room. Elliot’s nickname –Amigo– at the top of the notification. He waited for the screen to time out and go dark, then went back to his math.

It buzzed again.

Jesus fucking Christ, this kid. He picked up the phone and opened the texts.

I’m really sorry for what I said and I want to tell you in person,said the second one.

And then,

What are you doing?

Such a great question. It hit him hard somewhere behind the ribs, but he pretended it didn’t and sent,Out to dinner.

The three dots bubbled immediately.Oh okay. When will you be back?

I don’t know.

A long time with nothing. Then:Maybe I could come over in the morning?

Dustin closed his eyes and bent his forehead to the phoneand sat like that for a long time with a very dark feeling inside him, then sent,I don’t know.

Okay. Tomorrow night?

Relentless. Fucking relentless. No Elliot, you don’t just get to say you’re sorry and make everything fucking okay again. He sent,Maybe.

Okay. Can I text you in the morning?

Maybe.

Okay.

The three dots bubbled and disappeared. Dustin hated how long he sat there waiting for them to come back. When they didn’t, he locked the phone and set it aside and turned back to the pile of pills.

Lying to Elliot wasn’t supposed to be one of the steps.

He tried not to think about it, and scooped them into his hand. Fuck it, just take ten. He hadn’t had any wine tonight.

‘Out to dinner’ is not where you are, though, is it?

He took the pills to the mini bar, opened it, and squatted to look for a bottle of water.

And you know he can’t come over in the morning, because you won’t be there.