18. Oli
Oli
Lovesong
H aving Eli in my car was weird, and it’s still weird now, sitting beside him on a park bench.
There is ample space between us, but we’re both locked in silence, unsure where or how to start. I mean, this was his idea, so he should do the ice-breaking. I’m perfectly content to sit here forever like a statue. The only reason I didn’t flake on our agreed meet up was due to the events of last night.
I’d had a horrible episode—one of the worst in years—and Jorge broke through it. For once, he didn’t treat me like a spooked animal and took charge. That hug, fuck, it meant more to me than he probably realizes. I don’t know what events led Elijah to drugs, but I’m hoping he might have some insight into trauma. Or maybe just having someone on my side of the line who knows what it’s like firsthand might help. I’m pretty desperate at this point.
However, after I left Jorge earlier, I’m sure I’ll have to grovel for his forgiveness. I’m not ready to open up about my episodes or past, and I’m certainly not ready to admit that I’m meeting with Phoenix’s boyfriend to use whatever we talk about to fuel my courage. The only way to keep Jorge from tagging along was to tell him he wasn’t needed, which was the wrong way to go about it.
I plan on explaining this to him later. I swear I will. I just hope he can still be patient and understanding that although I do want him, there will be moments that I have to see through on my own. That isn’t his fault. He can’t be the hero every second of every day. Sighing, I rub my palms over my thighs, try not to look weird, and stare at the kids playing on the playground.
“So, I don’t know how to do this shit,” Eli finally says, huffing and chewing his thumbnail. “This was all Phoenix’s idea.”
“Figures,” I huff, crossing my arms.
“He thinks you’ll have a unique insight into my addiction.”
That has my eyebrow arching. “Seriously?”
He nods. “I’m only four months sober, well almost.”
“That’s a great accomplishment,” I tell him. That’s what Kristen would say.
“I guess.”
“Thirteen months for me.”
“Damn. How did you manage?”
Honestly, because I had something to look forward to. Something I didn’t want to lose. I’d never had that before. “Purpose.”
Eli snorts and faces me. “Purpose? What kind of crock is that?”
He’s mouthy. I can see why Phoenix likes him. “It’s the truth. Before…I was aimless. Just trying to make…trying to be numb.”
“Same. I’m still trying, but in different ways. Those breathing techniques are fucking stupid.”
I chuckle, agreeing. “They are. But I’ve found with the right person, they help…sometimes.”
“The right person?”
My cheeks heat as I clear my throat. “You know, therapists ‘n stuff.”
“Dr. Langley is not the person I want to be breathing with. Just saying.” He raises his hand and smirks. “Have you thought about it, though? Giving in?”
“Every day,” I say honestly. “Some days, it’s worse. Other days, it’s kind of like phantom pain; you feel it, but it’s not really there.”
“Exactly. See, you get it.”
Feeling braver, I relax a fraction and shift to face him head-on, too. “What made you start?”
He takes a deep breath and picks at the frayed strings of his distressed black skinny jeans. “My aunt was really abusive. She’s the reason I knew about drugs, and the reason I…kept doing it. You?”
I swallow hard, debating what to say. Despite not knowing Eli well, I came here for a reason. A reason I’m determined to see through. There’s a high possibility that he’ll just relay everything I say to Phoenix, but something about the look in his eyes tells me he won’t--that some shit stays between addicts. “I was raped in high school.”
Eli doesn’t even blink. “Had to drown out all the shit, huh?”
I nod. “Got to be too much. It still is, even though I make all the right choices.”
“It’s like they’re always with you. Stuck in your head. No matter how good you do or how far you get, there’s that thing on your shoulder, trying to take you down.”
My heart thuds at his explanation. “That’s exactly it. And even when they are quiet, the most insignificant thing can wake them right back up.”
He nods enthusiastically. “I got triggered over macaroni and cheese, man. Phoenix was craving it, and I swear, I was fine until I saw him mix in the flavor packet. Lost my shit and threatened to dump him if he didn’t let me leave.”
“Oh my god,” I laugh. I can’t help it. “I was triggered by some guy throwing a football on the beach. My whole body went into lockdown.”
Eli groans. “It’s the worst. ”
We share a knowing smile. “How does Phoenix handle it? When you’re triggered?” Because he has to be somewhat of a decent person, or I doubt Eli would still be with him.
“Honestly? He’s so fucking stubborn. But I love that he is,” he says softly. “If it’s really bad, he’ll sing to me—terribly, might I add—or he’ll just sit with me while I freak out. Other times, he’ll distract me. It’s a day-by-day thing, but he’s never not there through it. Sometimes, I worry that he’ll get over it in a few years, and we’ll break up again.”
“Phoenix is the epitome of monogamous,” I say with a snort. “He won’t.” When we were kids, all Phoenix would talk about was the family he wanted to have one day. This was before he even knew he was queer.
“Yeah. I mean, I hope so. I’m trying my best to make sure being with me isn’t the worst idea he’s ever had.”
“He loves you,” I tell him. “I’ve always known that.”
A little smile, making his dimple pop. “He’s…everything. I’d be dead if it weren’t for him.”
My mind shifts to Jorge without a thought, and my feelings for him are exactly the same. “I haven’t been able to have a relationship.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “But I want to. One day.”
“You’ll get there. Hell, you’ve been sober for way longer than I have and seem to be doing pretty damn good all things considered. I have no doubt you’ll be able to have a relationship whenever you meet that person.”
“Maybe,” I admit shyly. “Anyway, I wanted to…apologize for that first time we ran into each other.”
“Me too. I can come off pretty strong without meaning to.”
“I’m not ready to talk to Phoenix, but I’d like it if we could meet up again,” I tell him because it’s the truth. Other than Jorge, I have literally no friends. And I have no one who understands what I’m going through like Eli seems to.
“Yeah. We can.” He smiles and cocks his head. “I gotta tell him to come get me. It fucking sucks not having my license.”
“How long until you can get it back?”
“Six months,” he whines. “But once I get it, bet. You and me, we’re going out.”
“I don’t know about all that,” I say hesitantly. I don’t like going out.
“Maybe we can go to one of those sobriety events Kristen keeps yapping about. Could be fun.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’ll wear you down. It’s what I’m good at.” And he winks.
I n all this time, I’ve never looked at Jorge’s location on the app he insisted we both download, but I am currently. He’s at his house. Glancing at the bag of Thai food I picked up, I chew my lip and wonder if I should shelve this conversation for tomorrow. Guilt gnaws at me, though. Having left like I did, knowing he’s probably been inconsolable since.
No one in my immediate family enjoys confrontation. We’d all rather avoid it until we have no choice. That’s probably why my parents didn’t push my addiction issue until I overdosed. I guess it’s in my genetic makeup to want to ignore all my problems, even the ones I created. It’s something I’ve been working on in my therapy sessions—albeit not as frequently these days.
Closing the app, I shift my car into drive and head toward Jorge’s house.
I’m going to have to explain myself. He’s going to need reassurance, which is fine. I’ve done it before. I hope he doesn’t hate me. The fact he hasn’t texted me to ask how group went also solidifies that he’s hurt. I rub the back of my neck anxiously while I drive, trying to stay calm. My stomach rumbles ominously while my pulse races. It’ll be alright. It has to be.
This is Jorge here.
He’s the type of person who is always willing to listen—to understand. Sometimes, I worry that I take advantage of that because I get away with a lot that most people wouldn’t tolerate. The last thing I want is to hurt him, though. I can do this even if that means bucking up and addressing a problem. I have to. He’s been there for me when he didn’t need to. He’s never asked me for more than I’m willing to give.
I’ll fix this.
When I get to his house, parking in his short driveway, fight or flight kicks in. I shove my car into reverse, ready to flee, when his front door flies open. Standing in the doorway, rumpled as fuck, curls wild and frizzy, he glares at me. My stomach bottoms out, dread swirling in my veins. I swallow roughly when he points his finger at the porch beside him in a silent command. Come here.
Shitshitshit.
Hurrying to grab the bag of food, I get out of the car, eyes on the ground, and click the lock on my key fob. My palms are slick with sweat as I climb the steps, stopping at the one in front of him. Daring to meet his gaze, I slowly lift my head and open my mouth to start my apology, but he beats me to it.
“I’m sorry if I was too needy or clingy. That was my bad. But as far as I’m concerned, Oliver, we are dating, and I think it’s extremely fucking rude to go hang out with another person without telling me.” He loses his vibrato fast; the tough guy act crumbling and leaving him breathless with a wobbling chin.
It takes me too long to register what he’s just said to me, so he rushes out, “Maybe saying we are dating is presumptuous since all we’ve done is cuddle, and I played with your pecs a bit, but still. We’ve confessed things. ”
I lower the bag beside my foot, my heart thudding like a war drum because he said we’re dating. Fucking color me surprised, but I’m not upset at his claim. “I went to talk to Eli,” I say carefully, watching his expression. “He asked me yesterday while you were sick. We went to the park to talk after group.”
A little breathless shudder leaves him. “Oh.”
“I wasn’t sure how it would go, and I didn’t want to say anything this morning because I hadn’t decided if I was actually going to follow through with it.”
“Keep talking,” he rasps, clutching his chest.
“You’re not too needy or clingy.” I reach for the hand on his chest and pull it into mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you. That was wrong of me.”
“It was,” he sniffles, “but I understand.”
“And, since we’re being honest, I was embarrassed still about last night. I haven’t had… that happen to me in a very long time.”
“I wouldn’t judge you for that, beautiful,” he whispers, cheeks flushing more the longer we talk.
“I’m trying to get that through my head.”
“Did you get the glass noodles?” he asks, flicking his eyes from mine to my mouth.
“And rangoons.”
A watery smile rips across his face, and he shifts on his feet. “You need to be more careful with money.”
I roll my eyes, letting go of his hand to pick up the bag, but he launches at me. I just barely manage to catch him before we fall down the shallow steps. I hear him sigh happily as he smooshes my face into his chest. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, kitten.”