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I read the text. It’s from Reece.
Reece: “You guys want a ride? I’m heading out now.”
Me: “Nope, see you there.”
“Hey, Reece and O are on their way. Can you fucking get dressed? We’re gonna be late.” I shove my hands in my pocket and lean back against the counter, glowering at my shoes.
Dave lets out a long, low whistle as he walks
I lift my head and turn my glower on him. “What? You got something to say, say it, asshole.”
He laughs. “You have got to stop calling her, man. It’s been a year. It makes you so fucking miserable. And then you make the rest of us miserable.” He gives me an aggrieved shake of this head. “It’s your fucking birthday, man. You’re the hottest personal trainer in LA. You’ve got money and you can have any woman you want. You’re only twenty-three. Enjoy it. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, you’ve got to stop torturing yourself with this chick.”
“She’s not a chick.” I curl my lip at him, but I know he’s right.
“Dude. She is.” He slaps his forehead in exasperation “You’re acting like you lost your fucking religion instead of having a fight with your best friend slash obsessive crush.”
“I just can’t believe she ghosted on me.”
“Dude, you saw a video of her on Instagram with some random guy, and you nearly put a hole in the wall. She had to sit through dinner with that MILF hanging all over you making it very obvious to the whole world that you guys were fucking. What would you have done?” He asks me the question I ask myself every day.
“Please stop talking,” I groan. I am not in the mood for this lecture today. And I know he’s right.
“I’ll give you a break. But, just because it’s your birthday. I’ll also change.”
He sniffs his armpits and screws up his face. “Should probably shower, too.” He strolls out of the kitchen without a second glance at me.
He’s right. I’ve been in a bad mood a lot lately.
I should be happy I have the night off and I’m going out with my best friends.
Everyone thinks I have this amazing life. I mean, look at me. I have a nice car. I have famous friends. I’m making good money. Who wouldn’t be happy all the goddamn time?
So what if my life is devoid of any real joy? Who cares that I’m starting to forget what my dreams used to look like? I should be fucking grateful.
Because you know … I’m a personal trainer who spends more time fucking his clients than he does helping them get fit. That’s so much better than teaching and inspiring kids and making love to the girl who owns my heart.
In my darkest moments, I think my stepfather was right. Life outside of Cain’s Weeping feels like hell on earth. At least there I still had my fantasy that life on the other side would be great.
I didn’t imagine it would be easy. But, I’m not afraid of working hard. I spent the first fifteen years of my life getting the shit beat out of me and starved for days at a time by a sadistic sociopath. What could be worse than that, right?
At first, it was great.
And then, it just wasn’t.
My life has been consumed by a rolling avalanche of shit that I feel like I’ll never get out from under.
Apollo’s presence in my life had been a reminder of who I used to be—who I wanted to be. Now that she’s gone, I’m only surrounded by people who are focused on living the largest life they can.
I just want to be happy. I didn’t ever feel called to do anything like swim, play football, or play the violin. I just want to learn and then go teach. That’s not even a possibility now. What school would hire me?
Who knows what would have been if my mother hadn’t needed me? But, I would do it again if it means my mother can have the care she needs.
I ’m just so fucking tired.
I’m working for Nanette five days a week and spend the other two days running errands for Mama.
I feel trapped in a life I never wanted.
