Page 31 of Tell Me Lies: Manlove Edition

“Yeah. His name is Laur.”

“You’re sleeping with him? Like regularly?” Paul couldn’t wrap his head around the idea.

And I knew no one would understand. “The whole world is fucking crazy and I’m the one on medication.”

“I’m just saying, a guy who looks like that … I mean, when you’re … you know.” He gestured to by body. “There’s got to be a reason he’s not crawling all over you, dude.”

“Yeah, self-respect. All I bring to a relationship is … you know.” I imitated him in gesturing to my body. “Absolutely fuck-all.”

Paul’s expression had softened but he couldn’t refute. Your ex-boyfriend can’t usually extol your romantic virtues.

Dr. Rooks asks, “Jeremy, are you with me?”

“Sorry, just trying to … what was the question?”

Her frown deepens. “Any thoughts of self-harm?”

“No.” I’ve been too obsessed to ideate on suicide.

“Is it illegal? Or immoral?”

“Not illegal.”

“But you feel like you’re doing something wrong?”

There it is. I found the way to reassure her. “Doctor, I’m Jewish. Even when I’m doing everything right, it feels wrong.”

The old woman smiles faintly, reminding me of my grandmother. This is the side she likes to see. The one who cracks jokes she isn’t allowed to laugh at.

“It’s just boy trouble. I’m sure I’ll share more another session.”

****

After leaving Dr. Rooks, I run on the beach and ruminate over Laur and our not-exactly-a-relationship. It’s as much a part of my routine as getting eight hours of sleep and a gallon of water every day. But as my sneakers beat the salty snow and hard sand, hope is easy to find. There’s no meaning in my meaninglessness between the endless water and the sky, and that’s a fine thing.

When I hit the end of the boardwalk and turnaround, another group of runners passes me in the other direction. They move like a pack of sled dogs, all with precision in their movements and dark masculine shorts and tops. Not like my bright-blue joggers and the rainbow-colored water bottle bumping against my chest.

I don’t cast them a glance until one of the pack calls, “Larry, where you going?”

The one peeling off is the shortest man in the group. The thick beard and baseball cap don’t quite hide all the scars on his face. Or his sarcasm.

“Y’all can find your way back without me. It’s the straight line.”

Then Laur is running beside me. My heart hammers with the surprise intimacy. I can’t remember the last time I ran beside someone. If I ever had.

He doesn’t say anything. Am I supposed to say something?

Are we supposed to run in silence? How did I act with this man in the daylight?

After about half a mile, he spits an accusation, “You run here often?”

The tone catches me off guard. “Huh?”

“How did you find me?”

Shit. He’s angry already? I haven’t said anything.

“I know Jude didn’t tell you I run here, so how did you—”

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