Page 70 of Without You

The regret. The guilt. The shame.

I kiss him hard enough to forget them. I kiss him hard enough so he’ll remember me.

With every swipe of his tongue, I feel understood.

With every swipe of his tongue, I feel a little less lost.

With every swipe of his tongue, I feel tethered to a man I can’t have.

And with that last tantalizing swipe of my tongue against his, I know I’ll never be alone again.

16

Julian

It’s Thursday night and I’m wiping down the bar top for the hundredth time. Tonight has been slow. So painfully slow. I’ve been left alone with nothing but my thoughts for the third day in a row, and I’m about ready to gouge my own eyes out in frustration.

If I thought my life was lonely and monotonous before, spending the weekend around people, letting myself laugh, smile, and feel has only emphasized just how depressing the way I’m living really is.

If I’m not careful, I’m going to wake up one day and I’ll be a forty-year-old man who has nothing to live for, nothing to die for and absolutely nothing to lose.

Is that really how I want my life to go? No passion? No drive?

And then there’s this thing with Deacon. He may be the wrong man for me, but am I going to be able to be withanyonein the future?

I almost sigh in relief when I see Bill saunter into the place, hoping the mindless conversation with him will get me out of my own head. Even just a little.

He slides onto the stool and I don’t even waste time with small talk. I hand him both a finger of whiskey and a bottle of beer.

“On me,” I announce.

He picks up the whiskey glass and throws it down in one mouthful. “A man can’t say no when it’s free, can he?”

Slamming it on the wooden bar, he swaps his empty cup for his full bottle. “How have you been, son?” he asks.

“Not bad,” I say while puttering with the limes and lemons on the bar for the hundredth time tonight. “You?”

“Better than I’ve been in a while,” he declares, with a smile. Despite my own issues, it warms my heart to hear him happy. “The house feels a little empty now, but having you all over on the weekend sparked a bit of a spring into Elaine’s step. I wouldn’t say she’s a new person, but more like the old her than she’s been in a while.”

Grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the ledge behind me, and a clean glass, I pour us both a shot. Raising the drink in the air, I make a toast. “To happy drinking.”

He lets out a raspy chuckle and clinks his glass with mine. “It must be nice having Deacon home too,” I add, nonchalantly.

He tilts his head, looking perplexed. “Deacon went home early Monday morning.”

Like a punch to the gut, I pretend the words mean nothing to me at all. I hide away the hurt and embarrassment that we shared hard truths, and soft touches and none of that warranted even a semblance of a goodbye. ThatIdidn’t warrant one.

After we managed to pry our lips off one another, I felt the guilt and blame going backward and forward like a tennis match between us. We made a conscious effort to ignore it, even if we didn’t say it out loud.

We’d laid down on the couch, his arm draped across my body, like we’d done it a million times before. The television was on, the conversation was light; and for a moment in time, we were just two people enjoying each other’s company.

Not so surprisingly I fell asleep. His body was like the perfect cushion, and my body wanted to take advantage of it. The only problem was, when I woke up, I had a blanket covering me, and he was gone.

It was very reminiscent of the night he held me, two days after Rhett’s funeral, except this time I thought we were different and he just needed space. I didn’t think he would actually leave.

Well, what did you expect him to do? You told him you felt guilty.

I try to push the errant, rational thought out of my mind, because I think the kissing after that declaration negates the issue.Doesn’t it?

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