Page 18 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
That’s when I panic and snatch the “single” cologne from her hand, taking in a deep whiff.
“This one smells better,” I lie. It makes me cough. The “taken” cologne isn’t as overbearing, but I guess if I’m gonna stay single I should get used to the smell.
Jamal’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. At least compared to his natural perfect posture. He only lets it show for a moment before straightening up and politely asking the lady for two of the “single” colognes.
She happily bends over to grab a couple bottles of the stuff, then bags it up and hands it to Jamal. We turn away from her and start walking out to the car.
Back at the truck, Jamal holds the door open for me again, which kills me. He looks at me just a second too long when we get in, then he reaches in the bag with the two bottles of cologne.
“For you.” He hands me one of the bottles.
“Are you saying I smell bad?” I try to sound playful, taking the cologne and shoving it in my pocket. I laugh to hide the sting because hygiene is actually a sore subject for me. When I go through my depressive episodes, as Dr. Lee calls them, taking careof myself kind of goes out the window, and showering is one of the harder tasks to accomplish. I try not to go around smelling. The most I can usually manage is to scrub my crevices with a washcloth every couple of days and wear deodorant and dry shampoo, but... yeah, I’m not proud of it.
“Of course not.” Jamal doesn’t laugh back, or even smile. He knows this is a problem for me, so I know this is his way of helping. It just makes me feel that much shittier for stringing him along.
“We can’t get back together,” I blurt out.
He’s quiet for a moment, his ever-intense eyes searching mine for an answer I can’t give. I never told him why I broke up with him in the first place. I couldn’t. Can’t.
“I understand,” he finally says. He sounds sad but not angry. He’s never angry with me, even when he should be. Anyone in their right mind would have dropped me a long time ago.
“You do?” I ask, tentatively reaching for another Taki from the bag he gave me earlier. “Is that all you have to say?”
He doesn’t say anything for a bit, but I’m used to Jamal’s long pauses by now. I used to think he wasn’t listening, but now I know he’s just super intentional about what he does say. He takes his time to choose his words. I love—uh, have noticed that about him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head, which throws me off. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I crossed a boundary.” I can hear the pain in his voice. He really thinks this is his fault.
“Shit, Jamal,” I say, not knowing what elsetosay. It wasn’t like Jamal kissed me all on his own. I was every bit as into it as he was. I can’t have Jamal feeling guilty on top of everything else. “I crossed my own boundary,” I finally add, hoping he really gets it.
Another long pause. “Why?”
I don’t know how to answer that. Because I wanted to? Because I missed him? Because I love—
“Because I wasn’t thinking,” I say, and Jamal adjusts his glasses, which he usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.
“I understand,” he says again.
My head hurts. How can he understand?
You should apologize.
“Shit, Jamal... ,” I say again, letting the “sorry” be implied. “Why do you put up with me?” I ask, feeling heat rise in my chest.
Jamal just looks at me with those intense eyes like the answer is obvious. “You know why, Cesar.” His voice is soft. Too soft.
An unexpected wave of anger bubbles inside as I realize what’s really going on here.
“Do you feel sorry for me or something? Because of what happened last year?” I ask defensively.
“What? No, that’s not—” Jamal starts, but I don’t let him finish.
“I can take care of myself.” I start laughing. “Just because I got sent to the land of the sticky socksone timedoesn’t mean I’m some fragile little child.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Jamal doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
“What did you mean, then?”
“I mean I love—ugh!” He runs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry... I... I care about you, okay? Is it so hard to accept that some people just... genuinely care about you?”
