Page 38 of Tell Me Lies: Manlove Edition

“Chard.” He huffs out a breath, self-defeated and smiling. “I’m not talking about you.”

Right. His self-destructive tendencies. His doctor friend. His experiences with self-harm and suicidal ideation.

“I’m the gas on your bonfire.”

I wanted to be that other person. I’d never wanted anything more and I’d never had a goal so impossible to attain.

Laur says, “Maybe we ought to have this conversation when you’re in a better state.”

Right because I was off my routine, off my meds, and out of my mind.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” He stops in front of the club, which looks sickly in dawn’s early light. He doesn’t turn off the car or turn to see me. “I’m gonna do what I want anyway.”

“Good.” I reach out to take his chin and turn his face toward me.

He fights, but he looks.

I smile. “Next time you kidnap me, let’s make sure it’s after five p.m. Or, you know, break into my apartment and bring me the pillbox.”

He sneers from whatever fresh meanness is in his head. I meant to kiss him, but his expression grew blank and unreadable.

And that scares the shit out of me.

He said, “I’ve gotta go to work.”

“Right.” I get out feeling oddly unsettled but weirdly happy at the same time.

We had a kind of relationship and it scares him as much as it scares me. I’ll take my meds, take a nap, eat something, and figure this shit out for both of us.

Chapter Seven

Meds, sleep, and lunch did not bring me back to normal. I pushed myself through the entire weekend, powering through my classes and performances.

And now on Monday, I’ve spiraled into a deep low. It takes a miraculous effort to take my pills while I’m standing to microwave a frozen pizza. And the whole time I stare at the sink as if the wet metal could provide an answer to the numbness of existence.

Paul comes before his shift and puts my pills and a glass of water on my nightstand. He notices, “You missed a day.”

“Yup.” I force myself to sit up and take the pills.

“Did you talk to Dr.—”

“Nope.”

He looks at me like he expects me to dive headfirst out the window right then.

I try to help. “But I have before. The best thing is to resume the right schedule.”

“Call out of work tomorrow.”

Teaser Tuesday. “No.”

“Jeremy.”

“I like working,” I protest.

“Okay, if you’re up to it. Let’s go for a run together then.”

I see his tactic, his challenge, and I try to rise to it. Running would make me feel better, especially with Paul who is not an athlete. I’ll just put on my sneakers. Just get out of bed and put on my socks and… The endless to-do list utterly defeats me.

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