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“So I called her up,” he says, “and I told her that I wanted to talk to her.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he answers. “We met up for drinks, and I told her that no matter what, she had to stay away, ‘cause I don’t like the way she’s been following me around. It’s not fucking cool.”
I’m getting pretty sick of Drunk Dane, but maybe he actually accomplished something on his way down the bottle.
“And?”
“And what?” he asks. “Oh! Right,” he continues. “I told her that I wanted her to leave us alone, but she said I was the one who called her. I guess that’s true, but she told me that she was planting seeds and I didn’t want them to grow.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.
“I think I—” he hiccups, and I swear to all that is holy, if he pukes on the floor, I’m going to get really pissed.
“You think you what?” I ask.
He laughs. “That’s a funny sentence.”
“How much did you have to drink?” I ask him. “It doesn’t look like you two just got together for a casual drink or two.”
“I’m not sure,” he says, “but I think it was a lot.”
“I’d say that’s a strong possibility.”
“You’re mad!” he whispers. “I thought you said you weren’t going to get mad.”
“That’s not what I said, you jackass, now did you figure something out or not?”
“She told me that she wouldn’t follow me around anymore,” he says. “So that’s a good thing. She also told me to pass along an apology on her behalf. She said the two of you talked a while ago and she said she came across kind of pretty rude.”
“That’s it?” I ask. “It’s over? She’s out of the picture?”
“She wasn’t in my picture,” he says. “I love you, Leilal.”
It’s close enough to a kind moment that my urge to punch him in the nose slowly fades, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy.
“But that’s it?” I ask. “Did she say anything else?”
“Yeah,” he says. “She told me that it’s not nice to call someone up just to tell them to leave you alone.” He leans toward me, his hand to the side of his mouth as if there’s anyone in the apartment for him to keep ignorant of the sloshing sound of his words. “I didn’t care.”
Well, on the one hand, it sounds like we might finally be free to actually start our relationship without having to worry about his old one trying to creep back in. On the other hand, I don’t think I could possibly be less attracted to him than I am now.
Hopefully, that feeling passes pretty quickly. Otherwise, this has been a lot of effort for nothing.
“Do you still love me?” he asks. “I still love you.”
“Why wouldn’t you still love me?” I ask.
“I do still love you,” he says, and loses his balance.
He manages to catch himself before he falls all the way to the ground, but he knocks a stack of plates off the counter in the process.
“Okay,” I tell him. “You’re taking a shower and I’m going to bring you some coffee after I get all this cleaned up.”
“You’re so good to me,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.”
“I must be,” I sigh as I put one of his arms around my shoulders and walk him to the bathroom.
