by Trisky
I guess I could say this thing we've been doing, here and there... and over there, and there too, had all just sort of happened. I didn't mean to make that first phone call, I was actually trying to dial my mother, but I pressed the wrong speed dial number and felt like a moron when he picked up, so I had to say something. Thankfully I ignored the obvious, though I wanted to scream in his ear "I KNEW IT", or, at the very least, whisper my acknowledgment as faintly as he had. For that, I got a casual offer of a drink at Woody's, just an after work/school stress reliever, if I still needed to talk about the prom sort of thing, and well, one thing just accidentally led to another. That was the first time and the times that followed were just as unintentional. I certainly didn't mean to find him when I came to search for a pair of sneakers that I was sure I'd left behind, though I was sure I'd taken everything when I left. And really, who could predict that we'd both wind up at Babylon in the middle of the week? Well, predict that *I* would wind up at Babylon in the middle of the week. Anyone could predict that Brian would. I know I wasn't responsible for Elaine's kid getting sick and all of them deciding to have breakfast this morning. Not to mention, he was the one who followed me to the back of the diner. I'd like to keep that on record, he was the one who offered, no strings, no attachments, if I wanted to come I could. And come I did, several times in several different ways.
So obviously, I totally didn't mean to wind up on this floor, my ass cheeks sticking to it, staring up at the ceiling with my sweatshirt tucked uncomfortably under my neck and Brian still tucked between my legs. It just sort of happened.
There's one spot in particular above my corner where I work on my computer, where the beam ends and the ceiling begins, that's semi-unfinished because of the placement of the vent. A coil of copper wires sticks out and runs into the vent. I think it's connected to the heating system somehow. All I know is that it always freaks me out a little when I stare up at it for too long, usually when I get frustrated by some piece that's not going well. I always get nervous that if it gets too warm in here, it'll somehow set the copper on fire and that it'll travel down the beam and burn me alive when I'm not looking. Brian always tells me that I'm paranoid, and that I needed to pay more attention in science class and less on drawing the teacher's ass. Copper conducts heat and electricity, it's impenetrable, it doesn't spread flames. He thinks if I'm stupid enough to still be sitting there if a fire of that capacity ever broke out and engulfed a steel beam, then I deserve whatever I get.
I can't say I really disagree with him, which is really frustrating. It's just creepy looking up at it, like a bunch of live wires waiting to come to life, drop from the ceiling and wrap themselves around me like the plant in that weird, old movie with the guy from Honey I Shrunk the Kids. I never really understood that movie. It just seemed so over the top.
I much prefer what's wrapped around me at the moment. I wish I could say I feel bad about this, that this is somehow wrong. I mean, I know it is, we are no longer together. So technically we're just using one another, though that doesn't seem quite right. I could, and occasionally still do, get this from Ethan. And he could, and I'm sure quite often does, get this from just about anyone. It's not like we're trading for something that's in limited supply, so we're not really using each other for something we can't get elsewhere, which is usually why a person uses another person. I should know. I do feel bad about Ethan, he has no idea what I do when he's not around, and I don't feel compelled to explain myself. I let him believe whatever he needs to believe. If you want to get literal, I've never actually lied outloud to him. When I talked to him after he found Brian in my apartment, he assumed we had been up all night fucking. I made sure he knew how wrong that was. I don't care how hurt Ethan felt, I wasn't going to let him degrade the fact that Brian had just spent the night because I needed him. It's so hard to explain to people who didn't live through it with me, no matter how much they empathize. I think he understood he'd stepped over some line by assuming the worst of me, because he apologized profusely for ever doubting me. I just failed to mention what happened *after* he had left. He hasn't assumed anything since, so I haven't had to explain anything else, so I haven't lied.
I just haven't said everything I should have.
If they both only knew the bonds they share, they'd probably decide I wasn't worth the aggravation and just toss me overboard. They'd probably be justified.
I just can't help it. I've tried to be rational and really think this thing through before I started taking gigantic leaps into oblivion like I've done so many times before. But when he gives me that covert look, that blocks out the rest of the world and sucks dry my ability to remember why it's such a bad idea, I start to feel like he's coiled around my nervous system. His grip just keeps getting tighter the more I try to process things, and my stomach just starts flipping trying to extricate itself. I'm at a loss for words, and I'm almost never at a loss for words. We don't talk much when we do this, which makes me surprisingly grateful. I know it makes him supremely grateful. I have a feeling if we really sat and thought about this, we'd both realize what a huge mistake we're making. I can't risk that, I just can't. I'm not prepared for that. There I admitted it, I'm not prepared to figure out how to live my life without Brian in it in some capacity, and I probably never was. I saw a problem, and I dealt with it by diving into someone else's bed and trying to do it as quietly as possible.
Now I'm doing all sorts of things I would never do otherwise. After all, I did walk out almost two months ago for reasons that haven't really changed, but which I think I'm slowly starting to process in a way I couldn't then. I can't really have it both ways. Like, I can't want Brian to stay silent when I feel like it, when it makes it easy on me and gets me what I want, and then turn around and need him to talk when I decide I'm ready to hear something other than his moaning. That's not fair to him. But he hasn't been fair to me either. He can't be in a relationship and then turn around and act like he's never even heard of the concept much less practiced it.
He can't tell me he loves me and then turn around and act like it never even happened, like it was nothing.
It was everything.
And I let it pass. I'd be the ugliest of the ugly if I rubbed it in his face out of nowhere, so now he'll never know how much it meant to me. But I'll expect him to and that's not very fair either.
I can't even count the ways I've been unfair to Ethan. I don't have enough fingers or toes or time in the day.
But none of this seems wrong. It doesn't seem right somehow, but it doesn't feel wrong, and that probably makes it more wrong than it ever would have been otherwise. It's almost as if I've had some psychotic break and lost anything remotely resembling a conscience. I've just closed my eyes and followed the bad penny wherever it decided to show up. I could have a pocketful of pennies and I'd still choose the same one over and over, I just know it. It might get all green like most old pennies eventually do if you're not a coin collector and don't know how to keep it in mint condition, but I'll save it because the older it gets the more valuable it becomes. Shiny new pennies are nice for a minute or two, but eventually they're going to get old along with the rest. Maybe one day there will be no other pennies at all. I think I read that once, that the government was thinking about phasing out the penny as part of the currency. So I'll take the already aged, but in good shape penny and hold onto it for life.
Now I *know* I've had a psychotic break. It's the fucking copper wires, they do something to my psyche. Make me have paranoid delusions. I have to stop thinking about these things and start opening up my eyes and really looking around. I can't do this again. I *cannot* do this again... all of this, just the whole thing. I haven't made a single decision I could be proud of in the last three or four months. Everyone thinks I should be proud of walking out, of getting my own place, of doing well in school and finding someone my own age, when all I feel is foolish. A man would have stood up for himself, would have stopped hiding behind silence, would stop trying to justify his every action as a reaction. A man would take responsibility for himself.
"How many times have I told you to stop staring at that fucking ceiling?"
Jesus fucking Christ. His voice just went through my spine into my heart valves and squeezed them all closed. I think I'll breathe normally again after a strong sedative.
"I thought you were sleeping! I think I just had a heart attack and my life just flashed right in front of my eyes."
"Must have been a really shitty movie. I'd get my money back if I were you." He rolls onto his sweat slicked back and it makes me entirely too happy to know that I won't be the only one painfully peeling off my body parts from this hot floor. Just a few more feet and we would have made it to the bed. We could still get there eventually. Right, psychotic break I've since moved past, pay no attention to myself. Check.
"What the fuck are we doing Brian?" Mate.
"Well, given that you're staring at the ceiling thinking about how the whole place will ignite in flames in minutes because of a few loose wires, I imagine you're having your firefighter fantasy again. And I'm wondering what time of day it is. It was light out when we started wasn't it? Does that answer your question?"
You can bend copper pretty easily can't you? In place of barbed wire, it'd do in a jiffy to wrap around his neck. I'm so tired of these conversations that just go round and round in circles. I ask something, he doesn't answer. I say nothing, he says nothing. I talk endlessly, he pretends like he's not even listening, when I know he must be hearing every word. I won't look at him, because I know if I do I won't have to worry about wires coming to life and tying me up in knots, he'll have taken care of that.
I lean up, slowly, feeling the sting of my back as it leaves the floor. "That's so fucking typical Brian. You know you've become one of those drones you can't stand, right? Just repeating yourself over and over. It's time to recycle your routine. Can't you just answer the question without being an asshole about it?" He's just so fucking aggravating, and if my limbs weren't all so sore right now, I'd have already been up and dressed and headed for the door.
He says nothing for a few long seconds, as if he's actually considering answering with a thoughtful answer. "No." I shake my head, and I can feel my shoulders slumping. I want to say something, but I don't. I want him to get it, just once, without me having to point it out. He says nothing. Like I said, typical.
"I guess nothing has really changed. Nothing ever will."
"You thought because we've fucked a few times that something would be different?"
So nice of you to leave out what we did in between the fucking, how predicable. If he can do it, then why can't I? Tell the truth, no holds barred. "Yes that's exactly what I thought." I turn my head over my shoulder and look at him, suppress the feeling starting in my stomach. "I won't make the same mistake again."
"Neither will I." He holds my stare, gives me that fucking look. That *fucking* look.
I hear a muffled ringing sound somewhere behind me and realize it's my sweatshirt ringing. I dig my phone out, can't make out the caller, it's too dark to see. He watches with disinterest as I pick up.
"Hello?" I practically bite my tongue out of my mouth as I hear Ethan's voice on the other end, wondering where I am. I'm home, I tell him. Not possible, he was just there five minutes ago looking for me. I try to remember if I heard the buzzer ring, but I don't think I did. Oh... oh, he didn't mean...oh, that's bad...that's just bad. I close my eyes as if it's somehow going to make it better if I can't see the words come out of my mouth. I've been home all night, no really I have. I must have been occupied. See, it's not lying if you don't expand on the truth. I am a terrible excuse for a human being. He asks me something, but I don't hear it because I'm too busy getting distracted by Brian wincing as he pulls himself onto his feet. Good, I'm glad it hurt. He marches over to the refrigerator and grabs a beer. I have absolutely no idea if Ethan is still on the other end, but I hurry him off the phone with lame promises to check in with him tomorrow.
I shut the phone off and stand to dress.
"You want things to be different?" I look in his direction, surprised at the sound of his voice and the fact that he's still speaking to me. Somehow his eyes never leave me, even when his back is turned to me and he won't let me see his face until he's good and ready, and he wants me to always remember that. "Not a fucking thing will ever change as long as *that* keeps happening. You want me to respect you like a man worthy of an answer, then act like one."
It's like he's kicked my legs out from under me. I see beads of sweat where we both lay on the floor, see us spilled all over the place, in between where my legs had held him steady, at my feet in the spot where he'd stood up, in the condom I avoid stepping on. See the mess we've both made. The mess we've let happen, while we were so busy being focused on silly details that never really mattered. That coiled feeling begins to unravel into relief as he finally turns to face me, waiting. It's not that I'm naked that makes me feel exposed, it's the way he can see right through me. I turn my phone on and return his look hoping he sees the purpose and conviction written there. I squint in the dark at the soft neon green, and search for Ethan's number. I finally find it, dial it and tell him to meet me at my apartment in an hour. There's something we need to talk about.
I see it, all of it, so clearly. I needed to see with my own two eyes how carelessness will always keep what I want just out of reach. I see myself marked on every inch of his life, his body, his floor, his corners. I see the boy that knew what it took to get to get what he wanted, determination and sheer willpower. It's time for the man to stand up and do it better, do it with focus. I've done it once, I'll do it again. I won't hide from it anymore. I won't hide him, and I won't let him hide himself.
Only this time it'll be on my terms, because if I left it up to him we'd never get further than the floor