Page 22 of Surrender

That made me chuckle. “I paid a therapist a lot of money to basically tell me the same thing. I should have just asked you what was wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re perfect. It’s weird how perfect you are.”

“I’m really not.”

“You are, though. I feel like the first pancake, compared to you.”

Oh yeah, he was definitely tipsy, and well on his way to drunk. I grinned and repeated, “The first pancake?”

“Yeah, you know. Or maybe you don’t, because you barely eat carbs. But like, when you go to make pancakes, the first one is always horrible. You usually have to throw it away, that’s how bad it is. But then, the pan heats up to the right temperature or something, and the next pancake is perfection—golden and gorgeous. That’s you.”

“That’s quite the analogy.”

He nodded and raised his glass, saying, “Cheers, golden boy,” before downing half of it.

I squeezed his shoulder and said, “When you’re sober, we’re going to talk about the fact that you just characterized yourself as something that should be thrown away. You need to be kinder to yourself, Tracy.”

He shook his head. “You don’t even know. You only see what I’m trying to become, not what I was. But I’ll always be trash, no matter what I do.”

I was about to argue with him, but his friends returned to the table just then. I popped the cork and poured the champagne, and they all talked excitedly as I passed around the glasses and the snacks. Meanwhile, Tracy turned down everything I offered him and seemed to withdraw into himself.

After another hour, I decided to call it a night. I wasn’t sure how drunk he was, but Tracy clearly wasn’t having a good time. We said goodnight to his friends, and as we began to make our way through the crowded club, he grasped my arm and stayed very close to me.

A few minutes later, when we were on our way home in the back of a cab, Tracy whispered, “I’m sorry I drank too much. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Yes, I did. You didn’t even get to dance.”

“There’ll be plenty of other nights for dancing.”

“I won’t come along next time, so you can have fun.”

“The whole point of tonight was to spend time with you and get to know you, Tracy.”

“You really are a nice person,” he murmured, as he tilted his head and rested it on my shoulder. “And beautiful. My god, you’re beautiful. It’s hard to be around you, because I want you so bad. Getting together would be a huge mistake, though.”

“Think so?”

“I know it. I ruin everything, and I’d ruin this, too. If we keep it as a friendship, then I’ll still get to have you in my life. At least until your gym is built and you get too busy for me.”

“You should probably stop talking,” I said gently. “You’re going to regret saying all of this in the morning.”

“It’s all true.”

“You’ll still regret it.”

“That’s nothing new,” he muttered. “My life is full of regrets.” I was curious what he meant by that, but this wasn’t the time to ask questions. Not when he was drunk and already revealing more than he normally would.

Tracy was unsteady on his feet when we got to our building, so I put my arm around him and helped him get upstairs and into the apartment. Phil was sitting on the bed when we reached Tracy’s room, but he cleared out quickly at the sight of the two of us weaving and staggering.

Once he was seated on the edge of his mattress, I helped Tracy take off his sweater and sneakers. Then he stood up suddenly and announced, “I have to pee.”

“Want help?”

“No. Too embarrassing.”

He wove his way out of the room, while I paced and listened for crashing sounds. Soon, I heard the toilet flush. He didn’t return though, so after another minute I went to find him.

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