Chapter Twenty-Two
Iwould tell myself I regret having so much to drink last night, but this time I feel like I’m too far gone for regret.
I was selfish. As soon as I left the house, I felt so free.
Which is a horrible thing to think, and not something I would ever say to Silas out loud, because I don’t mean free from him.
Every night the girls sleep with our mom, a part of me is worried about them.
There’s no way for me to be totally at ease unless they’re with me, or now with Silas.
So, for them to be safe with him, for everything to be safe with him, so I could unravel in private gave me the most intense rush of liberation I think I’ve ever felt.
It was so goddamn heady that I didn’t even spiral in the end.
Once I’d escaped the beady eye of Sav and Wish and everyone else who knows me too well, I just relaxed and started to enjoy myself.
Staying out so late was stupid. And not texting Silas was even worse. I feel as terrible as I should. But in that moment, hanging out with those idiots, it felt like a do-over of every high school party I couldn’t enjoy because I knew what a mess I had waiting for me at home.
The contradictions swirling in my mind are nearly crippling, and I lie in bed, pretending to still be asleep, for god-knows-how-long after I wake up.
I can hear Silas checking on me from time to time, and I know I don’t deserve it. In the end, my shame edges out my capacity for inner exploration, and dehydration drives me out of bed.
Once I have enough clothes on to be decent and I’ve brushed my teeth, I make my way to the living room.
It’s been quiet all morning, and I was wondering if the girls were even here.
Or Silas, I guess. He has work today, I think.
Which obviously makes me feel even guiltier for making him run around after me in the middle of the night, but that’s becoming a scope of guilt I can’t look directly at.
Like the sun. Or my mom when she’s on drugs.
I just need to graze my eyes over it quickly and pretend it doesn’t hurt.
Convinced I’m at least able to stew in my guilt alone, I head to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. So when Silas steps up behind me, quiet as a church mouse, I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Jesus Christ,” I say, sputtering water over the counter after failing to swallow. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were at work.”
Silas stares at me for a long time. Long enough to make me sit in my discomfort.
“Ford told me to take the day off, after we were all up late last night. I asked your aunt to take the girls after school so they don’t have to be here for whatever today turns into.”
Oh, fuck, I guess we’re doing this first thing.
I let out a huge sigh, curling in on myself like it can protect me from the specter of guilt and shame that surrounds me. It doesn’t work, and when the threat of it seems like it might cripple me, I feel myself shutting down.
It’s too much. It’s all too much. I can’t process this without getting angry, and I can’t ever get angry at Silas. Not for real.
Which is why I know the words sound wooden and insincere coming out of my mouth, but can’t do anything to stop it. Fuck, I can barely even look at him while I say it.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Silas. I was an asshole. I didn’t mean to make you worry, I should have called, I should have… I should have done a lot of things different. I feel terrible.”
Silas stares at me, and nothing between us softens.
I don’t even know what I want him to say. His forgiveness seems like the only thing I need, but also I’m so hyperaware of the fact that I don’t deserve it, it wouldn’t feel real if I had it.
Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that he doesn’t even bother.
“Is it going to happen again?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest and a painful foot and a half of space between us.
“No. No, it won’t.”
I hang my head like a scolded child, even though he’s barely said anything.
Part of me wants to scream, and beg him to fucking touch me.
But I don’t deserve it, so I stay quiet.
“You scared me,” he says, his voice still flat.
I can’t answer. My throat is twisting itself into a knot, so it’s all I can do to swallow and nod.
The silence between us drags on and on. Silas doesn’t move away, but he looks to the side, staring out the window for a long time, like the answers to his questions are in our barren front yard.
I glance at him, then again, then I let myself look properly, as a little of my apprehension recedes.
He’s not crying. His face looks completely impassive, if you didn’t know him. But I do know him. I know him better than anyone else in the world, and I know that all that blankness is masking too much for him to express.
God, I’m such an asshole, focused on my own feelings instead of him, just like last night.
“Jesus, Silas. Come here. Please?” I ask, holding out my arms to him but stopping just shy of physical contact.
Silas works his jaw for a few seconds before he turns, then closes the distance all at once, wrapping his arms around my chest and burying his face in my neck.
I circle his neck and squeeze him even tighter to me, running my fingers frantically through his short hair as we cling to each other and both take deep, shaky breaths.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, kissing him on the neck and the side of the face—whatever I can reach.
He doesn’t say anything, so I repeat myself. And again, and again, and again.
Silas shudders underneath my hands, and continues to breathe deep, like he’s trying to suck me into his lungs and keep me there.
We stand there for a long time like that. I’m aware that there are a lot of things left to say, but right now, Silas feels fragile in my arms and I just want to hold him close to me. Plus, my brain feels fuzzy as hell and I’m not exactly eloquent on my best days.
“Hey,” I whisper, pulling back a little so I can see his face. See how blotchy and sad his face is, unfortunately.
“I know we have more stuff to talk about, but I feel like ass. And I love you, but you look like ass. Both of those things are my fault, but could we just chill for a little while? Let’s play fucking GTA or something else mindless.
We can both relax, eat some food, maybe take a nap, and then do big talks later. Deal?”
Silas looks at me, and although he’s still quiet and tense, I feel like the hostility from before is gone.
I give him the most charming smile I have in me right now.
“We can even throw in blowjobs later, if you’re into it. Hmm?”
I chuck him on the chin like we’re in an old-timey movie and study his face while he processes.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, eventually.
“Yeah to video games and blowjobs or just video games?”
There’s a ghost of a smile. It’s small, but it’s there.
“Let’s start with GTA. We’ll take it from there. Why don’t you go shower first and I’ll make you something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do that, I can make myself something,” I start to say, but when Silas raises an eyebrow at me, I lean down to sniff myself.
God, why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to have a cigarette.
Yikes. “Oh yeah. Let me go shower. I’ll be right back. But I can make my own food, I swear.”
I don’t let myself linger and stare at him the way I want to, forcing myself to turn and go. This is fine. Everything is normal. I did a bad thing, I will apologize again and make it up to him any way he’ll let me, and we can all move on. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.
Silas’s hand is still on my hip when I turn, and his fingers drag across the skin slowly, like he’s just as reluctant to let me go as I am.
Everything will be fine. I can take care of him like I’m supposed to, and fix what I broke. By tomorrow, everything will be back to normal.
“Fuck you, robot boy, why are you so good at this?”
That actually gets a soft laugh out of him. It feels like I’ve been teasing the happiness to the surface for hours, and it’s finally making a difference. All we needed was a little distraction.
“Because you have the attention span of a hummingbird. You’re not that hard to beat, bro.”
I scoff. “Bro. How dare you address me like you’ve never fucked me in the ass when you are literally, currently fucking me in the ass!”
Not literally, but that’s what it feels like as I throw my controller down on the table in frustration. Silas deposits his gently, with a smile. The difference in mood from this morning is palpable, and I want to savor every minute of it.
With the game paused and the controllers down, I decide now is the moment to introduce some oxytocin to the situation. Because it’s worth staving off the difficult conversation a little longer if I can finally make Silas feel good, after putting him through all this bullshit.
We’re already close on the couch, only a few inches between us, so it’s easy for me to lean over him. I run my hand up his thigh and edge closer until our faces are almost touching, and then wait to see his response.
“I promise I’ll apologize some more in ways that involve words, but I’d like to apologize on my knees, too. If you’re into it, of course.”
The way his mouth pulls to the side and his eyes flick away from my face and back is not the reaction I was hoping for.
“Cade, didn’t we just talk about the whole sex as a punishment for real things thing? Like a week ago?”
I frown, because I’m not totally sure what he’s talking about, but then it comes back to me. Oh, shit. I’d forgotten about that.
Silas doesn’t pull away from me. He puts a hand on my waist, holding me close to him, but also lets out an epic sigh.