The Beauty in Sinking Ships
It's later and the lights are dimmed.
I'm in Craig's bed telling him about ridiculous conversations with Emma I've never actually had. He nods and says "uh-huh" or "oh no" at all the right parts, but I know he's not really listening.
I start to tell him about my new purse that transformed into a giant slug that ate the mall, when suddenly Craig is sad, with big puppy-dog eyes, asking me what's going on between us. I look away because I can't stand him when he's like this. Craig takes the opportunity to move on top of me again.
I bite my lower lip and he says "Manny Manny Manny I love you, love you," over and over again, pushing himself harder into me, like he's desperately trying to make it mean something. Like he's trying to prove himself. To me?
I let him. I'm actually thinking about that other girl, what's her name, Ashley. I almost say it out loud. Ashley. But I catch myself and let Craig hear what he wants, "I love you too," and then finally he finishes. What would have Ashley done?
I think he was trying to make up for last night. He wouldn't answer his phone, and when I went looking for him, he wasn't with the guys either.
Craig whispers something about dying after we untangle and separate. He said it so softly I almost didn't hear it. But I did, I always do.
I slip out of Craig's bed as quietly as I can, leaving him lying there with his eyes closed and a pitiful little tear falling down his face. Jesus Christ. It's so damn obvious.
When I'd confronted Marco that morning he hadn't admitted to it. But he certainly hadn't denied it either.