29. Aeron
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
AERON
Iwrap my clay study in damp cheesecloth and slide it onto the shelf in the Advanced Sculpture class.
I was attempting to sculpt two dancers caught in a leap, bodies bending toward each other.
I’ve redone it six times and it still looks like shit.
The motion is kinda there, but it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.
The only real art I create anymore is late at night when that magical white powder is flowing through my system.
I glance behind me. Dorien’s table is already cleared.
He’s been doing that, just bolting as soon as class ends and not sticking around to talk with me like he used to.
During class, he still talks art, but his attention drifts.
This week he’s been glued to his phone as much as Carter usually is.
Every time I glanced over he was texting with a focus that bordered on obsession.
Who’s getting so much of his attention lately?
Fuck it, people are outside of my control. All I can ever do is focus on myself because everyone else is only going to hurt me.
I grab my backpack and leave the classroom. Dorien is leaning against the opposite wall.
It takes me a second to say anything because seeing him is such a shock. “Hey,” I say.
“Walk with me?” He pushes off the wall and I nod. We fall into step next to each other.
“How come you never hang out in the basement anymore?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I shrug.
“What are you up to after this?”
I shrug again. What I want is to go home, lock my door, and let the chemical drip carry me away. It’s been three days since my last hit and my body is itching for it. “Errands,” I say. “Art supplies.”
“Think I need a nap,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s an open life drawing studio tonight, off campus. It’s fifteen bucks for students. Live models. You should come.”
My grip loosens on my bag strap. He’s been distant for a while and now he’s inviting me somewhere? I kinda expected him to finally ghost and get it done with.
But hanging out again would be good. I want to say yes.
My body wants something else, though. My nerves are getting shot so I need another hit (think I’ve lasted as long as I can).
“Thanks, but I’ve got stuff,” I tell him.
“No worries.” He doesn’t look bothered (which is both a relief and a small, familiar sting). “How about meeting up for Food Truck Friday this week?”
My shoulders drop more and I actually smile. I’ve been alone too many nights. “Yeah. I’m in.”
He gives me a half-smile in return. “Six,” he says and heads for the west exit.
It’s Friday. Fall is in full swing and there’s a bitter cold in the air, so I’m wearing a trench coat.
The days are shorter so the light is fading when I reach the park around six.
String lights thread between poles, casting warm amber over clusters of people.
The trucks glow from inside, bright rectangles against the growing dark.
I scan the faces for Dorien and find him in line at a bao truck, hands in his pockets.
“Hey.” I stop beside him.
His face opens up when he sees me and he smiles. “Hey. Glad you made it.”
“It’s good to get out sometimes, right? Even if I’m a social outcast.”
He laughs. “Is there a club for that? Because I think I’m already a member.”
I smile but he’s not an outcast. Not like I am.
We chat for a bit, moving up slowly in the line. After ten minutes or so Carter suddenly materializes. I give him a nod and he claps my shoulder.
“Wow. Where have you been?” he asks. “We live in the same house but somehow I haven’t seen you for weeks.”
I shrug, trying not to feel too annoyed at his presence. I didn’t know he was coming; I thought it’d be just Dorien and me. The disappointment is brief because it’s Carter, and Carter has never made me feel like an afterthought.
I guess it’s cool my cousin is here.
“Don’t you know artists hide away to create their best art?” Dorien says.
I grin; this is why he’s so cool.
We stand in line and the string lights catch steam rising from the truck’s serving window. I think about snapping a reference photo for later, but don’t.
I realize this is good. It’s actually a nice change being out of the house and getting to hang out with people who are the closest to friends I have. This is what I should be doing instead of locking my door every night.
I feel a bit guilty because I know what I’m doing isn’t smart. How much longer before the withdrawals are too much to bear and I run out of cash trying to pay for more hits?
I should try to avoid it all next week; I need to pull myself out of my own head before I can’t find the way back.
Carter orders five bao and tells the woman they’re all for him. She believes him. We get our food and find a table. As we settle in, my chest doesn’t feel as heavy as it has been, and I start eating.
“Shit, it’s good,” Carter says around a mouthful. I mumble my agreement.
“What projects you working on?” Dorien asks. “Besides the main sculpture.”
“A lot,” I say after a swallow. “I’ve been using ink to—”
Vienna pushes between me and Carter and bumps my hip. “Scoot.” I shift over and she settles next to Carter.
I close my mouth and grind my teeth. Why the hell is she here? Did she come to this event, notice Carter, and then invite herself to our hangout?
“Ink?” Dorien asks as I’m glaring at Vienna and that awful red lipstick.
I set my food down and try to re-focus. “Uh, yeah. I thought I could combine ink with—”
Behind me, girls are laughing.
I recognize a certain laugh and my food sits like a rock in my stomach, weighing me down.
Cinna walks into my view first, June next, then two girls I’ve never met.
Cinna introduces them as classmates who wanted to tag along.
I don’t catch a single name. The information passes through me because the only thing I can think about is my annoyance at how the evening is ruined.
The small circle of three just became a crowd.
And I realize it was always meant to be this way. Dorien knew there was a group hangout and he was just being polite in inviting me.
He doesn’t care about actually hanging out with me.
Cinna glances my way as she sits next to Dorien on the other side of the table. She smiles the way you smile at someone holding a door. She’s smiling politely at a stranger (me).
I sink lower on the bench and push my food away.
Conversation explodes around me and Dorien forgets he ever asked about my projects and that I was in the middle of explaining one. So much talking is happening that I stop hearing what anyone is saying.
Was it June who told him to include me?
June’s poor little brother, why not bring him along and tuck him in a corner so he can feel included, even though everyone will forget he’s even there.
Cinna and the other girls are lost in conversation, so Carter gets up and moves to the edge of the table near Dorien. He’s close enough to me that I can hear when he whispers, “Dude. Stop looking at her. You’re too obvious.”
Dorien’s eyes drift across to the other end of the table to June.
She glances back and her cheeks flush pink.
She ducks her head, and when she lifts it they’re smiling at each other.
Dorien then pulls out his phone and texts something.
June’s smile widens and she slips her phone out carefully to glance at it under the table.
She lets out a quiet laugh, taps her phone, then Dorien’s phone buzzes.
My sister is the mystery woman Dorien has been obsessed with texting lately.
I stuff my hands in my coat pockets and stare at my half-eaten bao. I could be upset or pissed or tons of other emotions.
I feel nothing.
June takes everything away from me and I’m tired of caring.
She took my mother’s attention years ago.
Carter likes her more. She loves to control me, taking away small things here and there.
And now she’s taken Dorien, my first real friendship.
She draws people toward her the way moths are drawn to light, and I’m in the dark where nothing reaches.
This is how life is always going to be, my sister taking away everything.
Why fight it?
Cinna laughs at something one of her classmates says, and my eyes snap to her because she’s a different kind of addiction giving me withdrawals. She tips her head back, and I think of how I pulled her hair the night we were together. Her soft lips.
Longing floods in so fast my fingers curl under the table. I want to make her laugh like that. I want her face aimed at me, open and alive, not looking at me like I’m a stranger.
She turns to Dorien, who is next to her. She puts her hand on his arm and says something I don’t catch. But I catch the flirty tone of her words. She used that voice on me once. One night only.
Dorien laughs and she laughs. I almost throw up the food I ate.
It’s so obvious. How did I miss it? (She has a crush on Dorien.)
I replay moments from the past. Cinna often leaning toward Dorien in group settings. Cinna asking about his sculptures with an attention she never gives anyone else except June. Her face when he enters a room, that slight biting of her lower lip.
I’ve missed the obvious for years.
I didn’t see it because I was so focused on what I wanted her to be. Cinna was my proof that someone could choose me. Admitting she never cared means destroying the few good memories I have.
I close my eyes as the last light inside me flickers out. The night we slept together, her face was pressed into the pillows, and she kept moaning what I thought was my name.
… an… an… an…
I thought it was Aeran. Then she cried out “dooo” and stopped herself, biting it off. I told myself it was just a sound. Just pleasure.
It was his name.
Dooooori… an.
The woman I love was thinking of someone else while I fucked her.
I wipe my palms on my jeans over and over like that’s going to wipe away the pain. But only one thing can wipe away this festering hurt.
I grab what’s left of my food, stand up, and carry my trash to the bin. Nobody at the table looks up. I walk away and nobody notices.
The string lights thin at the edge of the lot. Beyond them, the sidewalk stretches under a row of streetlamps, each one casting a cone of yellow onto concrete. I avoid them, sticking to the dark.
Time to go home, open my drawer, and perform the only ritual that still makes me feel like a person.
Art is my only pleasure. And I can only experience that pleasure when the cocaine makes me someone else.