Page 13 of The Intimacy of Finding You

Most of my fingers had some sort of wound on them. They always looked awful. My nails never grew very long because the moment I saw white, I was biting all of it off. They were jagged and sharp, leaving scratch marks along my face and arms when I had an itch.

My favorites seemed to be my thumbs, index fingers, and pinkies. They had the most torn skin out of the rest.

When I pulled my thumb away from my mouth, I noticed blood pooling in the dip I’d created. I watched it fill and slowly start to leak out from the sides. I looked around for a napkin, but there weren’t any on the bar counter. I waved my hand at Jack, who was just getting finished serving another customer.

He walked down, standing right in front of me. “What’s up? You need another club soda?”

“Nah.” I held my bleeding thumb up to him. “I need a napkin and maybe something to cover this with for a minute if you’ve got one.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Jesus, Cal. What is that even called? Self-cannibalism?”

“I think it’s called anxiety, but what would I know?”

“Are you ever going to stop doing that to your fingers?”

“Are you ever going to stop worrying about other people’s fingers and get me a napkin?”

One of his eyebrows rose just before he leaned down, grabbing a napkin and handing it to me. “Sorry. I think I have band-aids in the back if you want to go get it.”

I pressed the napkin against my thumb, applying pressure. “No, it should stop soon.” I turned my attention across the bar, looking at every table within eyesight.

“You looking for Tobi?”

The way my head immediately whipped toward him at the mention of Tobi’s name was a bit embarrassing. “You know his name?”

Jack pointed to the same table Tobi had sat at when I talked to him last. “Yeah, of course. He sits over there almost every day until I close. Except for today. I think I scared him off.”

I pulled the napkin away from my thumb, staring at the red dotted across it. There was already a sheen of plasma starting to coat it, and I wanted to tear it apart again already. Even though I’d done damage, something in me had decided the damage wasn’t enough. When it would be enough, I had no idea. “What do you mean, you scared him off?”

“Well, I was talking to him, and he had his daily full bottle of vodka. He drank all of it pretty early and then asked if I would get him another. He was pretty drunk. Like, his accent got a lot thicker, and he was slurring his words a lot. I didn’t really feel comfortable getting him another one.” Jack shrugged. “I basically tried to tell him no, but he has autonomy. I told him I didn't want him to pass out in my bar. So, he said he’d take it somewhere else. And he did. I just hope he made it to the subway without any issues.”

I couldn’t even imagine Tobi drunk and slurring his words like Jack was describing. It was so unlike him, even though I’d seen him drinking last time. It just didn’t feel right. The Tobi I knew was so different from the Tobi we were all being faced with.

I tried to resist the urge to plant my feet and run. Run away from the ache in my heart that was slowly building and building, soon to be too much. I could feel the impending break, and there was nothing I could do about it. “He was going to go home like that?”

“Home?”

My eyebrows came together in confusion. “Uh, yeah?”

He shifted where he stood, looking to the side. “You guys really haven’t talked in a while, have you?”

Was it hot in here, or was I getting ready for an official silent disco? “No, we haven’t. Why?” My heartbeat picked up the pace, brushing against my rib cage with each pound in my chest.

“Tobi doesn’t have a home. I’ve seen him hang around the subway, though, so I think that’s mostly where he stays. He said you guys had known each other for a long time, but that you don’t anymore. I guess he meant you guys haven’t kept in touch.”

I needed a fucking cigarette. Like right now, or else I’d be turning the silent panic in my head into something very loud and very public. “Can we go smoke and talk?”

He turned his head, looking down the counter. “Let me get Mav to take over. I’ll meet you out back.”

If I were to open my mouth, all that would come out would be pained noises, so I kept it closed as I rose from the barstool and made a beeline down the hallway and through the back door. The wind almost knocked me on my ass, slapping me right in the face the moment the metal door creaked open.

There was so much snow on the ground, it almost had me wishing I’d never picked up smoking. Almost. Years’ worth of memories came and went in my mind as I turned toward the wall, holding my hand up to protect the flame from the lighter. The first drag from the cigarette coated my lungs in relief and toxicity, forcing the memory of Tobi’s voice to pause. His old voice. The voice I’d fallen in love with so long ago.

Now, his voice sounded like it was being crushed by anguish and pain. It was as if he was screaming through a straw that stretched for miles, each syllable of every word he spoke getting cut off before it could get to me.

There was emptiness in his eyes and torturous hell in his throat. I could feel it when I sat across from him. I could see it on his skin, right there in plain sight.

I lost Tobi ten years ago, and even though I’d found who was supposed to be him, I didn’t think I’d really found him. I didn’t know what’d taken him, but it had crushed him, and it crushed me, too.