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“No!No.That isnotwhat I’m saying, not blaming anything on you. You asked what was going on – that’s what’s going on. But it just… is what it is.”
I scoffed. “What itis, is thatmymess is spilling over onto you – exactly what you were concerned about.”
“No,” he corrected me, with an extra layer of bass to his tone that sent a little shiver up my spine. “What itis, is that I am a man with a certain weakness that has absolutelynothingto do with you. So don’t put it on your shoulders.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. Just like you used to wear your husband’s infidelity like it was your burden to bear. It wasn’t. It was his. This is mine.Notyours.”
“But youjustsaid—”
“No, I didn’t,” he said, then smirked at the frustrated growl I let out. “Stop trying to make this about you, when it isn’t. And I’m managing, by the way. This bottle is about five years old. Purchased right around the time Kay turned 16, and wanted to start dating. I pulled it out again when that little motherfucker broke her heart, because I need a distraction to keep me from killing him. And I just looked at it. Pulled it outagainwhen she stayed out past curfew the night of her prom, and was brought home by the police, drunk as a sailor. And I needed a distraction from killingher.And then again when she spent her first two years of college at a school across the country, that had an amazing dance program that she justhadto attend. Then, I needed a distraction to keep the worry from killingme. I always just looked at it. I’m never gonna open that bottle, Monica. It’s… symbolic.”
I stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out… something.Anythingabout this man. “Symbolic of what? What does it represent?”
He grinned. “When I can properly articulate a direct answer to that, you will be the first to know.”
“I’ll take the indirect answer for now.”
“God, you are persistent, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “You gonna tell me, or not?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he chuckled. “I guess it’s like… looking at this liquor, I know the possible consequences, right? Maybe I have that drink, and it’s fine. But maybe it’s not. Maybe I have that one, and it’s like trying to eat just one chip. Not possible. I don’t want to take that chance, don’t want to spiral. And so, for these few minutes, or few hours, I can look at it. Maybe even hold it. But I can’t indulge. I have to put it away. You following me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. So… my anger at this kid that broke my baby’s heart, right? Spreading rumors about her at school, harassing her and shit. I’mpissed. Livid.But I know the possible consequences. Maybe I just go talk to him, and he listens respectfully, and it’s fine. Or maybe, he pops off at the mouth, and I pop off with my fist, but he’s a kid, and you can’t hit kids, so now my ass is in jail for something I should have handled differently in the first place. I don’t want to take that chance. I can think about it. Maybe evendreamabout it. But I can’t indulge that anger. Gotta put it away. Can’t indulge the fear. Gotta put it away. Can’t indulge the worry. Gotta put it away. And it’s not even about… suppressing your emotions, never facing it, not like that. Just about facing the possibility of what might happen if you indulge that weak ass humanity, and give in to doing things that only bring negative consequences. The bottle is… a reminder. And a distraction. Distract myself from doing something like finding Asher and snatching him up and kicking his ass until he tells me everything I want to know. Because I remember that he’sdefinitelythe type of motherfucker that would press charges, and it would be stupid to bring that on myself.”
“Wow.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Wow?”
“Yes, wow. That is… quite a way to think… but I get it. I think.”
“I think you do, and you just want to give me a hard time. What are you doing up, snooping around anyway?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well,somebodydecided to crank their music up loud as hell, right when I was finally about to drift off to sleep.”
“Oh, damn, you heard that? My bad. My headphones disconnected for a second, and I tried to shut it off. I hoped it didn’t disturb you.”
“No such luck,” I said. “So, I got up to go looking for those noodles from earlier, saw your light on. Decided to…”
“Be nosy?”
I grinned. “If you want to call it that. What are you doing up anyway?”
“The same thing as you. Can’t sleep. Nothing helping. The usual.”
Our eyes met, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “You know… it’s been a while, but… if you think back, you might remember that there used to be something that helped both of us with our… shared problem.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked, keeping his gaze locked on mine.
For about five seconds, I just stared at him, reconsidering what I’d started. But then, I pushed his laptop aside so that I could position myself right in front of him on the desk, propping my feet up on the arms of his chair.
He stayed where he was, reclined with his arms behind his head as he watched me. I leaned back, using one arm for leverage as I hiked up the hem of my gown and opened my legs.
I wasn’t nervous.
