Chapter Thirty-Two
The heartbreak I had felt until now can’t be compared to the sight in front of me. The entire living space is trashed, not like he has broken everything, but like he hasn’t bothered to touch, clean, or move. I look around the trash-covered room and find his body curled up in the corner, his back to me, his knees pulled into his chest. I rush to him, putting my hands on his face; it’s burning up. The entire boat is burning up, the air conditioner not even turned on. His eyes are blank as he looks at me. Deep purple circles are etched under both eyes, his eyelids the same deep purple as he closes them.
“Julián… what… what happened?”
“You should go,” he tells me; his voice sounds like sandpaper. I look around for water but don’t see any. I stand up, go to the fridge, and find it empty. Kicking my feet through some of the trash on the floor, I stub my toe on my metal hotel cup, half-full of water. Without a thought, I bring it to his lips and make him drink it. He empties it, and I use every bit of strength I have not to scream at him when I take in how sunken his face looks, how dead behind the eyes. He’s a shell of the man I love, and I want to know where the hell my Julián went and what brought this on.
I ignore his pleas for me to leave and begin to collect the trash around the boat, shoving it into a bag. An episode, he had a depressive episode, likely triggered by my mother being here in his space, in his only safe space. I use the rational, methodical part of my brain to power through, opening the windows, wiping off the surfaces of dust and stickiness and trying not to gag when I remove a plate of uneaten, rotten fish from the bedside table. Pages of crossword books have been torn out, thrown, and scattered across the room. My chest aches with each one I pick up and throw away. All the anger I had toward him evaporates by the time the boat is clean. He’s still huddled in the same corner, and I approach him slowly, carefully.
“Let’s take a shower,” I suggest, gently touching his shoulder, fully expecting him to jerk away.
Instead, he begins to shake, sobs breaking through his hoarse throat, shame covering his face, deeply burned into his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he cries, squeezing his knees closer to his chest, rocking on his tailbone.
I refuse to cry, and I absolutely refuse to leave. I sit up taller. I give him a few minutes of silence, making sure I say exactly what I mean.
“Here with you…” I pause, touching his shoulder again. “This is the only place I belong.”
He slowly turns his head to face me, the rocking slowing. “You should never have to see me like this… cleaning up my trash… I’m worse than a goddamn animal.”
I move behind him and wrap my arms around his sweat-soaked body as sobs continue to rake through his body.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this; I never wanted you to see me like this. I’ve been trying to keep it together.”
I hug him tighter. “Yeah, well, I never wanted you to see me seize and fall into a pool either, but here we are.”
“Ry…” My name is wrapped in relief, sorrow, shame, agony as he turns around, grabbing me into his arms. I don’t know how long we sit like that, but when his body finally stops shaking, he eventually looks up at me, making eye contact. I can’t stop myself from crying any longer.
“I’m so sorry. I just… with the fight we had, the realization of this ending soon, then seeing your mom here… She looked so pristine and perfect, and my place is a fucking wreck. Seeing her on the land that will be destroyed soon, it was too much for me. Hearing her remind you of how separate our worlds should be, how we can’t ever make it work, knowing that they tried and failed. You deserve more than me, than what I can offer you. I don’t have anything to offer you—no money, no security, my mental health is all over the place, and you need someone who isn’t fucked-up, who isn’t a stubborn fucking mess. You shouldn’t have to worry about me… take care of me. I should be the one taking care of you.” He’s frantic, panicked, having a breakdown.
“We can take care of each other,” I reply. “We will be okay.” I pet his hair, my fingertips getting stuck on the tangles.
“I can barely take care of myself; how can I promise to take care of you?”
“Let’s take it one step at a time. First step, shower.” I stand up and pull on his hand, leading him to the shower. I don’t say a word as I wash him, his hair, his entire body. Slowly, rinse by rinse, the color comes back to his cheeks, the light flickers in his eyes. I stop him each time he tries to apologize.
“Just like you, I love every part of you. And will be here when things get dark to help you. I try to think of myself as someone who tries to see the light no matter how dark it is around me. Even though I’m a cynic most of the time, I try. Flaws and all, remember?”
“I’m all flaws, Ry. Hell, I can’t see the hint of light most days. Until I met you, I used to have these sorts of things all the time,” he admits.
Amara’s initial warning to me wasn’t Julián just ghosting people and being a flake, it was due to his mental health, but she doesn’t know that.
“I can pull you into the light, Julián. You just have to let me and stop running when shit gets hard, because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always find you.”
“It’s not that simple.” He buries his head into my chest, taking a deep breath to smell my bare skin. “I’ll try to never run again, but god, I wish it were that simple.”
“Just follow me, always? That’s as simple as it can get,” I whisper, massaging his scalp with my fingernails to calm him.
He gets himself dressed, and we cook together from a bag of groceries that appeared with a knock, but Mateo had disappeared before I could thank him. After three servings, Julián’s stomach finally stops groaning in hunger. We don’t talk about it; we don’t need to. I love him, every dark and light part of him, and I will never leave his side, until my fate pulls me away. And even then, I will fight like hell.