15. Jorge
Jorge
Take This Lonely Heart
“ I ’m fine,” I cough into my elbow, wanting Phoenix to go. Oli is hiding somewhere, and I can’t tell if I was dreaming earlier or if I actually kissed his hand. All I know is that I have a semi.
Eli slithers into my house, somewhat shy, and I glare at the two of them. Home invaders. Boner killers.
“Ignore him,” Phoenix says and strolls into my house like he lives here. Bitch. “He’s grumpy when he’s sick and refuses to do anything about it.”
“The biggest asshole grump in the world,” I say pointedly as in get out of my house. I choose to ignore the other comment.
Phoenix goes into my kitchen, and Eli simply blinks at me. I offer him a big, fake smile and go back to the couch. I roll into a blanket burrito and shove my face into a cushion. There’s some tinkering in there, and then I hear a mumbled what the fuck .
“Jorge,” Phoenix barks, his boots clicking over the kitchen tile.
“What?” I groan and roll back over to look at my best friend.
“Where did you get that recipe?” His straight eyebrow arches, and it’s creepy. So similar to how Oli does it.
“Huh?”
“The soup. You’re making soup.”
Shit. “So? I can cook sometimes.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, clearly impatient. “Where did you get that recipe?”
I don’t know what kind of soup Oli was making. I can’t smell anything, either, so I can’t lie. My cheeks heat as sweat pools in my crevices. Wetting my dry lips, I milk my sickness and make my eyes cross-eyed.
“The internet,” I lie. “Or Sonia.”
Phoenix studies me hard. Too hard.
After long seconds of him burning holes into my forehead, he faces Eli. “Oli makes that soup whenever anyone is sick. He’s been making it since he was thirteen.” He looks at me again, and I shrivel into a puddle of backstabbing Jorge goo. “Are you talking to Oli?” he asks me.
“Huh?” I force a cough, and damn, does it hurt.
“Why would he be talking to Oli?” Eli asks, confused.
“I don’t know. Why would you be?”
I’m going to expire. This is the end. Jesus, come and get me. “I’m not talking to him. I haven’t talked to him since like four Christmases ago.” Which is an exaggeration.
“Only Oli makes chicken noodle soup with brown rice and tiny star pasta, Jorge. Seriously. And the rosemary in there?”
The walls in my house are super thin—so unbelievably thin that when Eli was here after potentially trying to kill himself and Phoenix came to save the day, I heard every word of their little lovefest. It both made me incredibly sad and super happy. I hugged them and cried. Which means Oli can hear this. He can hear me lying through my teeth and trying not to die.
“Okay, fine ,” I blurt. “Fine.” Eli’s eyes round, then narrow into slits. He’s got serious black cat energy. I hate it. “I saw him earlier at the store, and he asked if I was okay. I said I was dying, and he told me to make that soup.”
I’m going to projectile vomit. It’s coming up my throat like a raging current. Phoenix’s eyes soften, something passing through his features like he could believe Oli would be helpful like that—which he is—and then nods.
“I’m not upset,” he clarifies for me. “And you’re sick, so that explains why you didn’t rush to tell me you saw him. But you don’t have to lie about it, Jorge. It’s okay if you run into my brother. We live in the same fucking town.” He pauses and then smiles. “You did a good job with the recipe, though. Tastes exactly like how he makes it.” And then he plops down next to me, pats my wrapped up legs, and grabs the remote. “I’ll have some too. I miss his Get Better soup. Do you want to try it, sweetheart?”
“Um, sure.”
Phoenix pulls Eli into his lap, and I groan.
H ours.
Oli was right.
Poor baby.
I feel better after having soup and more fluids, but I haven’t had a single opportunity to sneak into my bedroom. God, what if he’s had to pee this whole time? I need to get Phoenix out of my house. All he’s been doing is going over everything he and Eli have been up to. I mean, great , good for them, but just leave!
“We have been talking to a rescue,” Eli says to me, and I have to feign interest. “They have a lot of Great Dane surrenders. I think once I sell my house, it’ll be a good time to do it. And Damien has agreed to help us find a place.”
I nod along while Phoenix touches him all over. His neck, his sides, his hands and arms. The guy is sick with love. “How’s the therapy been?” I ask instead.
Eli sighs. “It’s helping, but not always. I…uh…I.” He stops talking and peeks over his shoulder at Phoenix.
“It’s okay,” Phoenix whispers. “He’s your friend too.”
Nodding stiffly, Eli cracks his knuckles and meets my eyes. “I still want to use. It’s pretty constant. But I’ve been working on expressing that instead of keeping it in.”
“And you’re doing amazing.” Phoenix kisses his cheeks.
“Having a good support system helps,” I add, sipping my third cup of spearmint tea.
“It does. But it’s not easy. I guess I never knew how bad my problem was until I actively tried not to have one. Even though I’ve been sober almost four months, I feel the urge daily.”
I normally would have some sage advice at this current time, but all I can think about is Oli potentially sneaking out my bedroom window to go pee on the morning glory vines beside it. Wetting my lips, I try to remember when Oli and I first reconnected. How desperate he’d been for help, for anyone. All I did was ask how he was, and he exploded. Years of hurt and loneliness spilled from his lips in small spurts. I knew he was high during that first conversation, but he was so down on himself. So… sad.
Hell, if anyone would know what Eli is going through, it’d be Oli, not me.
“From what I know, which isn’t much, the cravings will always be there. I think it’s about how you approach them is what matters the most.”
Phoenix and Eli both blink at me. I shrivel into my blankets and hide in my tea, blowing on it dramatically. Finally, Eli murmurs, “Kristen, from group, says that to us a lot.”
Yeah.
I know.
God, I can’t have them here anymore.
“Anyway,” I say loudly, wincing through the sharp slice in my throat. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”
Phoenix sighs and nods. “Yeah. We should head out, too. Helios is probably pissed his dinner is late.”
Eli chuckles, shaking his head. “You and that damn cat.”
“Excuse me, he is my child ,” Phoenix defends before pinching Eli’s ass. “Have you heard from Kelly?” he asks me as they stand up.
“She’s texted.”
Kelly has been staying with her Great Aunt for the past few weeks. Phoenix and Eli fuck loudly, I guess, so she’s been recording all her parts remotely and sending them to Devon to mix in with the other tracks for the new record. I don’t think I’d blame her if I was in her position.
It takes another ten minutes, drawn-out goodbyes and Phoenix demanding I call him if I get worse so he can take me to the doctor before I finally slide the deadbolt in my front door. I rarely use that thing, but I need maximum security right now. As I spin around to call out for Oli, the bedroom door flies open, and he runs to the bathroom. I wait, hearing the loud stream of his piss hitting the toilet and a soft grunt, and then the toilet flushes.
He washes his hands, and when the sink turns off and he comes out, he laughs. “I was about to risk climbing out the window just so I didn’t make a mess.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t,” I wheeze, my lungs rattling.
“I tried, but the damn frame squeaked so loud I’m shocked no one heard it, so I waited.”
“They just wouldn’t go .”
We both move simultaneously, approaching at a steady but quick pace. When we’re toe to toe, he looks me over, and I offer him a weak smile.
“Good news is that I got your spot nice and warm.”
“God, I love you,” I groan and Oli sputters.