Page 65 of Sicken of the Calm
“God, this is so stupid. I – whenI went to get closer to you, you stopped me for a moment just to, like, get comfortablebut it just…I don’t know. I know that’s not what was happening, but it justfelt like…”
“Rejection.”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling stupid.Feeling weak.
“Ok. That makes sense.”
“Does it?” I snort. Ezra moves,cupping my cheek in his hand so I have to look at him. His eyes are gentle butintense when I do.
“Yes. Joaquin…Jesus, we’refiguring this out together, but what you did today – everything you gave me.How, just, how much – everything. You put yourself in my hands completely, letyourself be pulled apart and you just…went under. After something like that,you can’t expect to run on logic. It’s all, emotions and stuff, just-” He liftsthe hand on my cheek for a moment to make a wild gesture before returning.“When you said, before, ‘it’s nothing’, I think you were saying that ‘causeit’s nothinglogical. But that’s not what matters the most when you’rein that place. It’s ok that it doesn’t make logical sense. It’s good to justacknowledge it. It’s scary to think of me just pushing you away after a scene.Fuck, just thinking about it…and it’s not like it’s different for me. If youkicked me out after a scene, I would – it would seriously fuck me up. It’s notweakness. It’s, you know, being human. I think you can allow yourself at leastthat.” He says the last bit with a slight tilt to his lips.
I look down for a moment beforelooking at him again. The truth is, it feels good to hear that he’s also scaredof the same things, to make stark that I have just as much power in thisrelationship as he does, something that can sometimes be forgotten in themiddle, or straight after, a scene, when I am so completely in his hands. Itloosens something in me.
I nod my head. He looks at mecarefully for a moment before kissing me lightly on the lips, his thumb tracingmy cheekbone.
“Thanks for telling me,” he says.I nod again and then let myself melt against him. He shifts so that he’s on hisback, careful to keep me close, and I let my head rest on his bare chest afterhe rearranges the blanket over our legs, my backside still bare whilst he’sclad in his boxers.
His hand continues runningthrough my hair as I feel my body fully relax against his. The complete, safewarmth of the immediate aftermath of the scene is gone, but maybe its sacrificehas not gone to waste.
Maybe it is these moments of fearthat will cause needed change.
CHAPTER TWELVE
For once, I don’t have the bufferof Iva or Moore with me, having agreed to go to a party with Ezra and hisfriends. This, more than the breaking apart of my senses in bed, shows a levelof comfort with Ezra that has developed almost without my notice since we firstgot together.
The party is surprisinglychilled, mostly hanging out and talking instead of keggers or dancing. I sip mydrink in an act of calculated nonchalance as Ezra chats away next to me to agood-looking, African-American guy. The guy, I have just discovered throughreferences in the conversation they’re engaged in, is Ezra’s ex – or, at least,an ex-hook-up. They’re not doing anything that would suggest it, standing anormal distance from each other and keeping their hands to themselves, but Istill feel a twinge at their banter. It’s uncomfortable to be forced to facethe irrational jealousy that is telling about my own desires, right here inpublic, where I can’t just roll toward Ezra with the excuse of a post-coitalcuddle and be comforted.
The guy, Dexter, although he goesby Dex, is tall and of a slim build, hair cut in a high-top skin-fade stylethat I recognise because of the movie,Dope. His eyes are dark butbright, and he has an energy to match Ezra’s. His laugh is loud and breakinginto small chunks at the end in a way that might have been endearing if itwasn’t putting me in such a bad mood, which is only increased by theridiculousness of my reaction. The insult upon injury is that I know I wouldn’treact this way if Ezra actuallywasmy boyfriend. It’s the lack ofsecurity that is making the fear I don’t want to look at transform intoirritation.
“Urgh, there he is,” Dex says,nodding his chin toward the other side of the room. Ezra and I turn to lookunsubtly at the guy in question. He’s large-framed, even wider than me, maybe,but has a gentle, American-boy-next-door air about him. The animosity in Dex’seyes seems disproportionate to the way the guy is carrying himself as if tryingto take up less space than he’s owed.
“That’shim? Dude, helooks, like, completely harmless,” Ezra says.
“He’s a psycho. A swear to God healmost decked Harrison and Mel for no fucking reason. Mel! She was almostcrying by the end of it,” Dex insists. I look back at the blond guy beingtargeted by Dex’s animosity, and can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Helooks decidedly unhappy, shoulders hunching in as if waiting for a blow.Whatever the person he’s talking to is saying must not be good news because heleaves abruptly.
“Yeah, and don’t come back,” Dexmutters under his breath, but he’s watching the guy’s retreating back intently.
“Yeah…ok,” Ezra says, sharing alook with me. I smile a little, enjoying the moment of solidarity against Dex.“I need another drink,” he says, shaking his cup.
“I’m good,” Dex says, stillglaring at the door the guy had exited as if willing him to come back just soDex can continue his diatribe.
“I’m good too,” I say, notwanting to be left alone with Dex, but not wanting to follow Ezra like a puppy,either.
“Kay. Back in a sec,” Ezra says.I watch him go for a moment before turning back to Dex.
Once Dex snaps out of thehate-space the blond guy had put him in, he’s easy to talk to, despite my ownfeelings toward him. I’m saved from carrying a conversation for too long,however, as others join us until we’ve created a little cluster of people. I’mnodding along to a full-blown review of the movieIn the Mood for Love,which the girl I’m talking to had enthusiastically delved into half-tipsily themoment I admitted I haven’t seen it. We’re interrupted in the middle of hersoliloquy to Nat “King” Cole’s version ofQuizás, Quizás, Quizáswhen adrunk guy cuts in, pointing his solo cup at me.
“Don’t you talk? I haven’t heardyou say a single fucking word in like half an hour!” he laughs, although notpleasantly. Both the girl and I turn to look at him, who is smiling theself-amused smile of an inebriated idiot. There’s not much I can think to sayback. It’s not the first time that someone tries to make me feel boring for nottalking at parties, and it’s obvious the guy is just jealous I was monopolizingthe girl’s time. Before I can so much as tell him to fuck off, however, anothersolo cup is thrust in front of me, this time pointing at Drunk Idiot.
“He’s not here for your fuckingentertainment, asshole,” Ezra says viscously. I look at him, but he’s watchingDrunk Idiot intensely, a hard, cold anger I’ve never seen before on his face.
“Woah! I’m just sayin’.” DrunkIdiot puts up his hands as if he’s the one being aggrieved.
“Yeah, well, how about you take apage out of his book,” Ezra replies, nodding his head at me, “and shut the fuckup for five seconds? No one wants to hear what you have to ‘just say’.”
“Jeez, alright, alright, sorry Ioffended your boyfriend,” the guys snarks. He obviously has no idea that we’remore than friends and is just throwing a gay joke into the mix. Ezra takes astep forward even as the guy is turning away, but I catch Ezra’s shoulder,squeezing lightly. He looks at me sharply, and although the fierce expressionis pointed at me I know I’m not its intended target.
“Not worth it,” I say. I can seea muscle jump in Ezra’s jaw, but he steps back a moment later.
