Elvis laughs. “Only you can take something this dramatic and turn it to a positive opportunity. Seriously, how can you be so laid-back all the time?”
That’s easy to answer. I was raised drama-free. In our home, conflicts were resolved with a respectful tone and solutions found for any problems. I was also raised with the attitude that whether the glass is half empty or half full, it’s still filled with liquid and that’s what you should focus on.
The shop being destroyed could mean the end of Luke’s Tattoo Parlor, or it could be just a hiccup in my growing brand. Whoever did that clearly wanted to ruin my business, but I see it as an opportunity to thrive. This parlor is my blood, and I won’t go down without a fight. I’ll show them I’m a fucking phoenix if I need to.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Calv says.
Morgan and Elvis nod.
“So now that we’re all happy about the store being destroyed, are you going to tell us what happened ?” Morgan asks with concerned eyes. “Because you look like shit, and Bruce is clearly upset with you."
“My private life isn’t that interesting, you know. I fucked up and now I’m single again. That’s all you need to know.”
“Right,” Calvin says, “So we should ignore the fact that you’re in love with the uptight lawyer?”
I nod.
“We should also ignore the fact that you’ve been miserable since you two called it quits?” he adds smugly.
I nod again.
“And we shouldn’t tell you you’re an ass for not going for what you want?”
I can’t nod at that. I open my mouth to protest, but Elvis cuts me off.
“Yeah, Bossman, we know. He never was your boyfriend. You were just having fun. You’re friends. Whatever you need to tell yourself not to hurt too much. In the meantime, why don’t we go have drinks and have a toast to love and benefits?”
“Love and benefits? What are you talking about, Elvis?” Calvin asks.
“You know, like friends with benefits. You’re friends, but you have sex as a cherry on top, right?”
“Kind of, yes…” I say.
Elvis sighs. “Well, love and benefits is when you love people and all that love gives you benefits such as hanging out with them, working with them, sometimes even living with them…”
The three of us look at him, trying to decipher what the fuck he’s implying.
“Isn’t that friendship?” Calvin finally says.
“Yeah, if you want to call it that. I think love and benefits can be something more, but friendship is okay, I guess,” Elvis says, pouting.
Morgan shoves him and kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll be your love and benefits.”
“Me too, let’s all be friends,” I chime in.
“Great! So can you tell us what happened then?” Morgan asks.
“Don’t make us call you mother,” Calvin adds.
So I do. Over a round of beers, I pour out my heart to my love-and-benefits relationships. By the end of the night, I feel lighter and I’ve laughed so much, it feels I’ve forgotten how much my heart aches. Until I go home, and my phone vibrates.
Dex: I’m sorry.
My heart races. It’s late in LA, which means it’s the middle of the night for him. A couple of months ago, I could have thought this was a booty call. But now I know this is his way of showing me he’s thinking about me and what I told him. Three dots appear for a while until they don’t. Whatever he want to say, he won’t write it.
Me: I know.
Because I do. I know he wishes he could be different, and I also know that if he could give me his heart, he would. My heart quiets down, and I smile, because in a way, we’re finding a truce in the complexity of our relationship. In my mind, we’ve found the only words that allow us to move forward with or without each other.
18
Dex
I am a burden to others.
I deserve to be alone.
Nobody cares about me.
I pushed away the only one left who did.
I can’t fix this.
I can’t fix myself.
Life isn’t worth the heartache and the heartache isn’t worth life.
* * *
I’m drowning, surrounded by oxygen. I’m alone and terrified, imprisoned in my grief. I’m not even sure who or what I’m grieving anymore. The waves of hurt and rejection keep dragging me down. I dealt with Luke’s declaration and departure as well as I could, but the reading of my father’s will left me empty and lost.
He left all he had to Clay.
Not Emma, not Asher, not me.
Fucking Clay.
Not that I wanted anything. But what broke me was that his will said all he possessed was to be given to “his only son, Clay.” No mention of his other children.
Was my relationship with my father nothing more than a pretend masquerade?
Every time I look in the mirror, I see a stranger with a haunted, hopeless expression. All the happy memories I shared with my father are tainted by the feeling I was only a pawn in his life.
He used me to get divorced so he could marry Ellen.
He used my homosexuality to advance his career by showing how supportive he was.
And he showed his true colors once he died.
Refusing to talk to me and then disowning me.
He went as far as to ask me to be his executor as a last big fuck you.
I feel as if my life is a movie I lived in without knowing so. I’m the Truman Show. I’m suffering the torment of being psychologically lifeless while emotionally raw.
I force myself to do everything. Food is tasteless, alcohol helpless, sleep useless. All I see and feel is darkness.
The fake smile I had in Michigan is nowhere to be found since I returned to Los Angeles. I’ve pretended to be sick, so I haven’t been back to work yet. I’ve avoided Ian, Virginia, and Ryan and let Asher and Emma know not to come looking for me.
I’m tired of the hollowness in my chest, but I can’t find a way to fill it without hurting, and the only thing more exhausting than trying to get out of my hole is pretending I’m already out of it. Each time I say I’m fine, I feel something dying a little more inside. I hear my so-called friends asking how I feel, but I know they’re just waiting impatiently for me to deal with their shit again.
They’ll all pretend they love me until they won’t.
I was never good enough for anybody.
Nobody will ever miss me.
I’m a burden to others.
I deserve to be alone.
Every day, I find reasons to stay in my ghastly condo, the blinds closed and the lights off. I haven’t taken any calls in days and communicated only by text with the few people harassing me.
Luke hasn’t reached out to me at all. That hurts as well, but less than if I had let him in and he had broken my heart. Our story ended before it started. He’s certainly back with his perfect man, or found another one. Luke might be the only person who could have broken the misery and solitude I feel, but he chose to walk away. I can’t ask him to take care of me.
That’s one of the reasons why I haven’t charged my phone and let it die. I didn’t want any temptation. I won’t contact him. I’m no good for him. It’s even more evident to me now that I’ll never be able to give him what he needs.