Page 136 of Ecstasy
He smiles. “You don’t look wrong. In fact,” he bites his lip, eyes dipping down to my chest even though he can barely see me in the dark, under the covers, “you look really fucking right.”
I roll my eyes, smiling despite myself. “You know what I mean. What if I’m just a druggie whore? What if I’m not going anywhere with my life? You know I’m a philosophy major. Like, what the—”
“Yeah,” he interrupts me, “I never fucking asked. What is it you intended to do with that degree?” There’s a teasing edge to his voice that makes me laugh.
The fact we never talked about these things, it’s almost funny. Almost, but it’s just how we are. Or were.
I shrug, and his hand goes from my hair to my back and he pulls me closer, rolling onto his back so my head is against his chest. I curl up around him, arm stretched over his torso as he keeps stroking my hair, gripping my arm with one hand.
“I just liked the idea of Stoicism,” I admit. “A teacher touched on it in history class, back in high school. I liked the idea of focusing only on what we can control. Mainly, how we react to shit. And how life is short, how we can’t count on a long one or even a good one.” I shrug against him. “Obviously, I suck at applying any tenets of Stoicism to my own life, but I like the concept.”
Alex laughs, his chest rumbling against me. “Okay, so, if you could do anything in the world, what would you do?”
“Drugs,” I deadpan.
He tenses beneath me, his hand on my arm tightening.
I laugh, flicking his chest playfully. “I’m joking.”
He exhales, like a lover putting up with my bullshit solely because he loves me.
“I’d like to help people, I guess. When I’m done helping myself. I’d like to help people who feel uncomfortable in their own skin feel a little better. Without drugs,” I add quickly, in case he has any ideas on exactly what it is I want to do. I do not want to be a dealer like Jax. “I’d like to write a book about Stoicism one day, maybe even how addicts could apply the teachings to their own life. Obviously, I’ve got no idea how to do that because here I am with you right now but…” I trail off, drumming my fingers against his skin. “I don’t know. I never gave much thought to my future, beyond the next party.” It feels cathartic, like a release, having this conversation with him, like I did with Jax.
It feels good confiding in Alex, I realize.
He plays with my hair and breathes evenly beneath my arm. I wonder if he’s going to fall asleep, or if he just doesn’t know what to say. I start to wonder if I’ve shared too much. If this bonding we’ve done today is more than we should have. If I’ve fucked this up all the more.
“What do you want to do?” I ask him softly, not quite wanting to be alone yet. “I mean, I know you want to go to law school. But what is it you really want?” If he falls asleep and I don’t, it’ll feel that way. Like I’m alone. And as exhausted as my body feels, my mind is still wired.
“Yeah, well. I never told you but I don’t actually want to go to law school.”
I should be surprised, I guess, but I’m not. Alex flies off the handle too easily. He’d make a horrible lawyer.
“I want to open up a gym,” he admits, his voice a whisper. “I’ve never told anyone that, but I want to open up a gym and I wouldn’t mind running a camp too. For kids. Or maybe teenagers. Not something pretentious, like the shit I went to. Something for kids who might not be able to afford it. Kids with special needs, maybe, or shitty home lives. I don’t know. Maybe that’s just a pipe dream considering I’m not exactly an upstanding citizen.” He laughs, but it’s definitely lacking in humor. “Anyway, I just know that working out gives me an outlet, and I want kids to have that, too.”
We’re both quiet a moment. I could picture Alex doing that. He knows he has anger issues, knows he needs to work on them, and if he could help other people do the same, I think he’d be good at that. If he gets his shit under control like he said he will.
“Maybe we could open up a business together,” he tells me, and my stomach drops. “We could have the gym, and you could counsel people in the wisdom of Stoicism, and I could run a camp in our backyard, because it’ll be fucking huge. I like the outdoors far better than anything inside, and you’d learn to like it, too, if you don’t already.” He kisses me again, apparently unaware that I’m having a mini heart attack.
My limbs are all tingly and I kind of feel like I’m floating. The idea of him being with me past college, past this week even, is unfathomable. And I don’t like it. People always leave.
“Too soon?” he asks me. His tone is light, but I hear the worry in it, too.
“No, it’s just…” It’s just you’re going to leave me. No one ever stays. Good marriages and never-ending romance don’t exist. “I don’t think you mean it.”
He pauses his gentle strokes of my hair, just for a beat. “Why?”
People always leave. My dad. My mom, to all of her husbands. I can’t recall a single friendship I’ve had that’s lasted the test of time, or a move, or a major life event. Usually, it’s my fault. I don’t keep in touch. I’m not a victim in that regard, but still, that’s life. That’s how it happens for me.
“Your parents are not doing well,” I point out. “Mine are divorced. My mom is on her fourth marriage.”
His hand trails down over the nape of my neck, and again, he turns over, unsettling my comfortable position against his chest. Then we’re lying on our sides, facing one another again, and he grabs my hand between us, his fingers threading through mine.
“We’re not them.” His voice is almost stern.“We don’t have to repeat our parents’ mistakes. I sure as shit will be nothing like my father. Or your father.”
My heart feels heavy, and I feel tears prick behind my eyes, but I force them back.
“You think I’ll leave you because he left you. You think you’ll leave me because your mother leaves. But you’re not like that, and I’m not like that.”
