60. Doesn’t Do Me Any Good #4
He keeps going, unloading on me, and it feels like blow after blow to the chest.
He lifts his shoulders. “Whole world out there actin’ like sex fixes shit. Lemme tell you somethin’—when you’ve eaten hundreds of pussies and still go home feelin’ empty? That’s not pleasure. That’s fuckin’ decay.
“When you got girls grindin’ on you ‘cause they know you’ll give it up, lyin’, actin’ single, meanwhile they got a guy waitin’ at home?
Seen that shit too many times. They all know I won’t touch ‘em if they’re taken.
They know. But they’re deprived, insecure, or just wanna know what it’d be like, so they lie.
And it’s fuckin’ sad. Same old record—first I’m givin’ the girl pleasure, then I’m takin’ their man’s pain by gettin’ my ass beat.
And I fuckin’ let ‘em. Never put up a fight.
“Makes you trust no one.
“Makes you feel so fuckin’ alone.
“Then it makes you hate yourself.
“‘Cause you caused it all to begin with.”
He bites into his lip.
“Used to think somethin’ was wrong with me.
“My dick? It didn’t get hard for no one.
“I told it when it was go-time,
“it went stiff when I needed it to.
“Like, I couldn’t feel shit, not really.
“Not when I was supposed to.”
He laughs under his breath,
pushing his fingers through his hair.
“Didn’t even fuckin’ masturbate.
“Thought that was just who I was.
“But then you came along,
“and now I know I was never numb.
“I was just never with you.”
He looks sideways at me,
exposed, wide open, unguarded,
his knee bouncing under his folded arms, prey to my sharp tongue should the knives come out.
But I still can’t speak.
Can’t even move.
“So hearin’ about your stepdad?” he continues.
“It hit me like a ton of bricks. Like, I knew about CEO Raymond. I knew he fucked with your head and was usin’ you.
Maybe takin’ advantage of you at the label.
And yeah, maybe takin' advantage of you sexually. And I knew you had a stepdad. But I didn’t fuckin’ know he was your stepdad.
‘Cause that means—what? Shit’s been goin’ on since Corey died? Sixteen?”
He scans my blank face,
checking for confirmation,
checking for the damage it’s caused.
But I know there’s nothing there.
When the pain’s gone so nuclear for so long, not even tears bother showing up anymore.
“Allison, I shoulda asked you more. Thought you’d tell me when you were ready. But you never did. Not once…”
He rubs a palm over his mouth.
“Now I’m lookin’ at myself thinkin’—fuck, am I the monster? I did the same shit to girls.” He lays his head back into my stomach. “For ten years, I'm walkin' around makin' people feel better through sex, same way he did to you.”
He stares up at the ceiling, jaw tight.
“Now I know, followin’ our contract? It’s only hurtin’ you. I’m feedin’ your addiction same way he is. Just like that motherfucker. I’m no better for it.”
A few beats pass in the silence.
Then my hand is on his face,
my knuckles brushing his cheek,
wishing to wipe that thought away.
“Andrew, no. You’re nothin’ like him,” I say, voice raw. “Don’t even put yourself in the same box as him.” His eyes slide to me, drenched in guilt. “Yeah. Well, tellin’ you right now, we ain’t goin’ back.” His head moves slow from side to side. “I’m done with the contract bullshit, Allison.”
My heart starts hammering,
hard, panicking.
Fear boils up fast behind it,
switchblade in hand,
threatening to slit his throat,
make him regret those words,
suck them back in.
My fingers tremble against his face.
I pull them back too,
slipping them under the covers.
“Okay. So you’re done.
“That’s what you’re sayin’?
“We’re done?”
His brow slants up, and he lifts his head off the couch, turning into me, head cocked. “Jesus, you serious with that? Do you hear yourself? After all the shit I told you, that’s where your head goes?”
“Andrew—”
“Nah. No contract, no us, right?”
It’s all I know. He knows that.
He’s always known that.
And my heart’s got her fists
in my brain’s hair.
Let us have this, she’s sobbing.
Just let us finally fucking have this.
But my brain’s seething, bitter from the bruises it’s forced to remember—
soon as she lets down her guard,
he’s going to up and leave, and you know it.
“That’s not fair,” I whisper.
“Drew, you knew how it was gonna be.”
He shakes his head slow,
the bones of a smile moving his lips.
“You know what’s real fuckin’ sad?” He laughs, breathless and dead. “One of the reasons you built this whole system was ‘cause you didn’t wanna be treated like an object. And now fuckin’ look at you. Don’t even realize you turned yourself into one.”
“I turned myself into an object,” I repeat,
mocking, dumb.
“Yeah,” he says.
“You stripped the feelings, the heart,
“the pain that comes with all of it.
“What’s left, huh?”
I want to say that that’s ridiculous.
I want to say it’s not true.
But the more I think about it,
the more I realize he’s right.
Then, in the softest voice I’ve ever heard from him, “Allison Taylor, you are my whole fuckin’ world. All that I’ve become? All that I fuckin’ do? Literally for us.”
He squints to pierce me with the truth.
“But you give me nothin’.
“You can’t answer one simple question.
“You can’t feel safe enough to cry in my arms, let alone in front of me. Or for fuck’s sake, open up to me. At all.”
“That’s what you want?” I say, stopping him, my eyes bouncing frantically between his. “That’s what will make you happy?
“Me sad and crying in your arms?
“Me telling you why I throw up?”
I’m tearing up.
I grind down on my teeth to control it.
“Yeah, Allison.
“That’d be a fuckin’ start.”
How do I tell him the reason’s ‘cause I feel gross, without him taking it personally? “Drew—I—” My head’s shaking, refusing for me.
Then my shoulders collapse as I stare at him.
“When you asked me if you were enough? I couldn’t answer you that night…
‘cause the second I do?” I say, my eyes bouncing between his.
“You’ll always look to me to remind you.
And if not me? You’ll go back to trying to find that answer in everyone else.
And I—” I’m breathing heavy, my pulse is panicked. “I don’t want that.”
He turns his head into his hand,
grips his hair.
Then nods into it,
‘cause he understands,
but it still doesn’t make him feel better.
My hand wraps around his arm.
“Andrew—”
He turns his head again, looking at me.
“I care about you.
“More than I’ve cared about anyone.”
Andrew’s hand slips through his hair, lands on the back of his head.
“Shitty part is, Allison—you can’t even be sure about that.
Not when your abuser’s still fuckin’ abusin’ you.
It’s still goin’ on.” He looks up at me again, eyes tired.
“I can’t even trust that any of it’s real with you…
not when—not when you keep puttin’ your addiction first.”
He tips his head,
arm falling across my hip.
“How do you know that’s you talkin’, and not your fuckin’ clit? I mean, c’mon. You just told me you’re addicted to me. How do I know the second I fuckin’ walk away from this, your panic will come from heartbreak and not fear ‘cause you ain’t got me on tap no more.”
He lifts his shoulder.
“You don’t know. You can’t.
“Too much shit blurs the lines.
“Nothin’ solid to hold on to.
“Never was.”