Page 56 of Deliverance

I drop my gaze to the ground and thrust the heavy tip of my boot into the ground. “My life is already difficult.”

Santiago brings himself closer to me, our flimsy paper plates touching. “Everyone’s life is difficult, babe. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep trying. And I’m not saying you’re not. I think you’ve accomplished great things already. I think you’re the strongest person I’ve met. I also think you deserve happiness. I know your demons are bad. I have them too and I hate it when they come out, but I prefer to fight them with someone else, not on my own.” He pauses to give my drunk ass some time to process everything he just said. “Don’t push people away.”

His words are supposed to comfort me, but they don’t. They only make me doubt my decision to stop seeing Zander, which is probably Santiago’s intention altogether.

I try to imagine what dating--or whatever it’s called these days and in this city--would be like for me.

I try but I can’t.

Because my experience is limited to the experience the only man in my life created. A fairytale turned nightmare. Or a TV series that gets progressively worse with every season because the studio keeps switching showrunners.

“Nice bootie, girl!” a voice drifts past me from the crowd and I snap back to reality. Around me, the lights and the sounds of the night city are swirling.

“Keep walking, pendejo!” Santiago gives a guy the finger.

A string of offensive words in Spanish pours toward us, but we ignore them and resume eating our hot dogs.

The question, however, remains. And I almost find the dilemma Shakespearian. Part of me wants to cut Zander loose before whatever that is going on between us goes too far, before this feeble relationship takes root. But another part of me is scared and wants to run. Literally. God--if he exists--knows I’ve done it before and after multiple attempts and dozens of broken bones, I succeeded.

Apparently, you are good at running, Drew. Are you good at facing your fears? Because what if one day there’s nowhere left to run?

I shudder at the thought but push the worry away.

“Goddamn it!” Santiago grumbles under his breath. “Your phone is fucking on fire. I swear I haven’t had so much ass massage since I broke up with Eric.” He disposes the plate into the nearest trash bin and walks over to the cart to grab us some napkins while I’m finishing up my impromptu supper and sifting through my memories in search of some info on this Eric guy. But it’s safe to say my friend changes his partners like gloves and I don’t always get to meet them.

My mind is still swimming, but it’s clearer now. Thanks to the bomb diggity of a hot dog.

“Here.” Santiago hands me a few napkins and after I clean up, he fishes out my phone from his back pocket and returns it.

There are a handful of texts flashing at me from the screen. Two of them are from Zander.

Zander: Hey... Just checking

Zander: Is everything OK?

My chest swells, something new stirring through my stomach. A blend of guilt and awe. The last thing I’d expect from a guy who’s about to be ditched is concern.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Santiago pulls out a pack of gum.

I drop my hand to my hip and suck in a loud breath through my teeth, my heart racing. “Shit. I invited him to my showing. It’s going to be really weird if I dump him right now and then he decides to attend.”

“Definitely.”

“Let’s go back.”

“Yep. Let’s.”

Before returning to the club, I diligently rinse my mouth to ensure I don’t smell like an onion and stuff it with cherry-flavored chewing gum.

We find Zander, Bebe, and Lion downstairs by the bar.

“I’m sorry. We had to step out for a second to make a phone call,” I tell everyone, knowing all too well my excuse is as lame as wearing sweatpants to the grocery store.

Santiago corroborates my story with a nod and offers to buy another round of drinks for everyone except me. I get a bottle of water.

The club is packed, people spilling into the hidden alcoves, onto the staircase, and past the line of security guards near the VIP booths. There’s some kind of a competition happening on the dance floor. I can hear the steady clapping and the rumble of encouraging voices rising above the track as my gaze follows the heads of a couple moving behind the wall of rocking bodies.

When the song comes to an end and the music dies for a brief moment, Zander uses the opportunity to question my absence.

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