Chapter 10: Alex
I wish you hadn't left me in here all alone. This room, still decorated for what should have been our night of passion, feels dirty. I've blown out the candles and pulled myself into one of your hardback kitchen chairs. My hand is shaking as I reach for the wine glass sitting on the table and down it in one swallow. So much for being a connoisseur.
I sigh as I realize this isn't going to do it for me right now. Nice wine is for romantic dinners, but I need something to really calm my shattered nerves. Now's when it comes in handy that I know you well, and that I know about your small hidden stash over your oven. Your penchant for hard liquor becomes an asset.
You think I don't know about it, but I've seen you after a hard day slip in here. I pull myself up on the edge of the counter and let my hand search above your stove when my fingers clasp around the neck of the bottle. I pull out the cheap vodka, and I frown at the bottle: sounds delightful. I grit my teeth and do what I imagine you do with this swill; take a huge swallow from the head of the bottle.
I look at the swirling contents and gasp as I feel my throat burn. I am about to take another swig to drown out the buzzing of the world, but I remember you and Elliot in the next room and being blitzed out of my mind isn't going to help any of us. I want to go back twenty minutes, to our happiness, and smiles, and long luxurious kisses. Only this time, I want to double lock the door. I stare at the wall I had been pressed into and feel my eyes tear up again.
For a little while, after you walked down the hall, I could hear the two of you yelling at each other. He was screaming and asking you if you're a dyke and what I did to you. You were screaming right back though, just as fiery, defending my honor. You were telling him he was being a bigot and that you saw him being more compassionate towards perps than he was being towards you right now. I could hear the tears in your voice, and believe it or not, the tears in his.
My headache from work is storming back with a vengeance as my mind is screaming that these are my insecurities that are causing you this pain. If I had let you tell him, if we had been more careful, if I had stayed away from you in the first place, none of us would be here now, on the edge dangling dangerously.
I can't ignore how happy you make me. I want to leave now and drive out of New York with you. We could go somewhere that there are no expectations of what we should be, and there's no one screaming. We can just be in love without this pain.
Your screaming has subsided, and I can hear you two gently talking. I stick my head around the corner of the kitchen, knowing that until you come for me, I will never have the needed fortitude to walk the six short steps into the living room where I can hear you debating the merits of our case against Elliott's preconceived notions of who and what we are. I can hear my name and your soothing voice. It calms my center to know that you're here, and you're my protector.
I sit back down at the kitchen table and sigh letting my finger tip slip around the top of the glass while I wait for you to want me back. It feels like forever, before I see your tear stained face appear from around the corner. You beckon to me and I follow you. I pace a step behind you, fearing the firing squad waiting in front of me.