by Ashley Love
But there's a feeling swelling inside me that I can't place at first, but the longer it plunks around in my gut like a pinball in a machine it starts to feel familiar. It's hope. It's a small ounce of hope because he just...he just consented. He compromised, which is something he never does. I stare at his profile for another long moment that doesn't feel so awkward anymore because now I just see...Alex. Holy shit.
I don't see a drug peddler or dealer, and I wonder if he still feels like that person in this moment right now or if this feels new for him. And that's why he's being so quiet, just driving, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel occasionally and—shit, I start to do it—I start to picture us in another life. Him behind the wheel of this same truck, maybe driving us down to the beach, maybe a baby in the backseat, maybe in another place, in another time, maybe five, even ten years from now.
Stop.
I will myself to stop but I keep thinking, venturing, seeing this life we could have, this life that I want. Fuck, I want it and I know I shouldn't, because there's no chance in hell that he does, so what's really the point?
I peek in the backseat quickly to make sure the baby isn't really there, shaking the thoughts from my head, and we're quiet a while longer before he speaks again.
"So...what's it like?"
I panic for a moment, thinking one of those stupid irrational thoughts that you only think in a panicked situation. Like what if he can read minds and he never told me. Which is so fucking stupid, I know, but he's the last person on earth who needs to be reading my mind when I think of shit like us having a fucking child. God, I'm so stupid sometimes.
"What's what like?"
"You know...being straight...clean," he spits the words out bitterly but something inside of me knows that if he weren't interested he wouldn't be asking in the first place. I feel another small ounce of hope fill me instantly and I turn to him with intent and answer.
"It's good. I mean, I guess I kinda have my life back now. It's gonna be a slow process but I think I'm on my way to better things."
When he scoffs a bit I have to come back to myself and what I've learned, and I focus less on how he's asking it and more on what he's actually asking. He wants to know, he has genuine interest. I have to stay focused on that rather than giving in to the negativity in his voice. That's the only way I can keep him from breaking me down anymore.
"Like what?" he asks sort of absently, glancing in his side mirror before turning onto another narrow street, weaving his way through the familiar shortcuts. He throws me a look when I hesitate to make sure he's listening.
"Well, I wanna go back to school, that's the biggest thing of all for me. I'm ready to just be...normal. I'm looking at colleges, jobs...I got a new place..." I swallow hard, knowing what's coming.
"You got rid of the apartment?" His voice is low and I see his hand grip the steering wheel tighter as his jaw flexes.
"Well, yeah, I mean..."
"That was our first place together, Leala. You weren't even gonna ask me? You just go and get rid of it," he cuts me off harshly and I sigh, rolling my eyes a bit.
It's true, I have been living in that same little ratty apartment that Lex had been living in when I first met him. He let me keep it when he bought the house, because we weren't exactly in a place in our relationship where buying a house together was even a fathomable idea. (Even though Lex tried to reason with me that we already lived together so I might as well just move with him). It's not like I didn't have enough money to pay for the apartment, and something inside of me knew that I would need a place to escape from Lex once in a while to keep us both alive and sane. So despite the fact that I practically lived in his house sometimes anyway, I still didn't want my name tied to that, so I kept our old place. Up until now at least.
"Jesus, Lex, it's not like I could keep living there. Think of everything that happened in that place."
He's silent for a moment and I know some part of him understands where I'm coming from, but that's not the issue for him. I'm getting rid of our past, our history, throwing that part of our lives away, and he doesn't like that. Something inside of him just does not want to move on, no matter what I say or do.
"I thought you were clean now. Isn't that the fucking point, to be able to come back and live your life without using?" he snaps coldly in frustration, leaning against the inside of his door, distancing himself from me, and I don't know if it's an unconscious action or if he really wants to be further away from me, but it hurts.
I scoff at him, throwing my hands up in the air because I just can't win with him, and I snap back into defensive mode to protect myself from this feeling of hurt that he always manages to reach so deep inside of me with.
"Oh yeah, why don't I just go move into a crackhouse in Crenshaw while I'm at it! There's no point in getting clean if I'm gonna keep making the same stupid mistakes I've made for the past five years, Lex. Everything that I surround myself with affects my ability to stay sober, especially where I live...and who I spend time with."
"Oh now that's fucked up! Way to make me feel like shit, Leala." He leans harder against the door, sinking down in his seat a little and I hear the undertones of his voice painted with a small streak of guilt, and I know why he's leaning away.
"I didn't say it to hurt you, Lex. It's just the facts."
"So they tell you to go and change your whole fucking life when you get out of rehab? That sounds like some bullshit."
"I haven't changed anything yet."
We pull up to a red light and he looks over at me, shaking his head as his words seep out condescendingly, laced with sarcasm and demeaning. "Well then I don't fucking get it, Leala. Are you gonna change or not? It sounds like you've just got a bunch of big fucking ideas in your head." He brings a hand up to push my forehead and I slap it away, fury engulfing me. I point an unapologetic finger in his face as I seethe, my voice tearing into the tension of this fight, waiting to build and build, waiting to explode.
"Fuck you! Just because you don't want anything better for yourself, don't drag me down with you. You can't pull me under, Lex. Not anymore. And you wonder why they told me to stay away from you."
Boom.
"What?! They don't even fucking know me! That's fucked up, Leala!"
I wince and sink back away from him a bit as he rushes forward in utter shock and disbelief, his voice booming. He stares at me menacingly for a moment before sitting back against his seat and turning his eyes back to the red light, and I'm willing it to turn green.
"It's not like I'm gonna use in front of you, or ask you to do it with me. Getting clean was your decision, and I'm gonna support it. Just because I haven't done the same thing for myself..." His voice is calmer now. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore."
He sighs in frustration, running a hand over his hair and I can tell he's holding back, trying. Trying to keep this rage at bay and bring himself back down, but it's hard. It's hard for him to talk when he isn't yelling, and he smacks the steering wheel with the bottom of his closed fist before tipping his head back and taking a deep breath with his eyes squeezed shut tight. I turn to him while I still have the guts to say it, to actually bring it up even though I know what the result will be.
"You can do it too, Lex."
"I said I don't wanna talk about it!" he roars almost before the last word leaves my mouth, head snapping to the side and eyes flying open to meet mine with unfettered anger. I don't dare speak another word.
We ride in silence until he parks the truck. I get out immediately, slamming the door, fuming as I walk to the back of truck and wait for him to get out, leaning against the closed tailgate. He walks around slow, stands there looking at me. I don't look at him, pouting like a child, but I don't give a damn because I'm sick of this. Sick of fighting, and that's why I wanted to come down here in the first place. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I can feel him staring and I snap my head to look at him coldly. "What? Are
we gonna go or not?"
He sighs in frustration. "Goddammit." And I look away again. "Leala, c'mon. I didn't come down here to fight with you all damn day."
"Why not, it never bothered you before," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I cross my arms over my chest.
"Would you stop?" He grabs both of my shoulders, turning me to him. "I thought we came down here to get away from all that. Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, okay? Let's just...let's just start over." His hands slip from my shoulders and drop to his sides in defeat, eyes boring into mine, giving me that pleading look that he rarely has to use because I'm usually quick to forgive.
I huff out an audible sigh, chewing on the inside of my lips. "I'm not doing this with you all day. I won't." I shake my head at him adamantly and he nods in concession. "Let's just go." I turn to walk away and he takes a few stuttered steps to catch up with me, sliding an arm around my shoulders and I say a silent prayer that this day can be the start of something new.
Because I'm tired as hell of the way things are.
4
When I had asked if he wanted to walk around Third, I of course was talking about Third Street Promenade, a section of Third Street in Santa Monica that has basically been turned into a strip mall of sorts. It's a popular tourist destination lined with stores and restaurants. The street itself is closed off to cars and in the afternoons is filled with entertainment—bands, vendors, dance teams, magicians. It's like a carnival in the middle of the road.
We spent the remainder of the sunlit hours ambling up and down the street. I can't even tell you how long it's been since I just window shopped, so needless to say I was fucking excited, but Lex...not so much. I told myself every time he asked, "Are you gonna buy something?" I was gonna slap him, but I never did. So I window shopped and he took more trips to the bathroom than I thought was necessary for normal bodily function, but I tried to ignore it and just enjoy hanging out with him.
As the temperature started to drop with the late hour we slipped into a Lids store so he could buy a beanie. I told him if he'd grow his damn hair out again he wouldn't need one, to which he promptly rolled his eyes, surveying his options before settling on dark grey, pulling it tight over his head and glancing in the mirror.
Now standing next to him I watch him swallow hard, gazing at his own reflection with a look that's painful to witness, eyes cold and hard staring into his own.
"Sometimes I look in a mirror and don't even fucking recognize myself," he says quietly, more to himself than to me, but I hear it, I hear the words and I hear his tone and I know he's struggling. I know it's hard to look at himself and see anything but what he's become. But tonight I want him to maybe get that glimpse, just that tiny glimpse of what he could be; how different things could be.
"The hat looks good, Lex," I respond quickly, reaching up to touch his back in a comforting way, wanting to snap him out of this rut he gets into sometimes. I put my face up next to his in the mirror and make a funny face at him, and he cracks a smile, pulling the cap from his head and breathing out a pent up sigh.
"Let's get outta here." He turns to make his way to the line at the register, pulling out a fat stack of bills when he reaches the front of the line and the boy at the desk makes a face. Lex doesn't see it, but I do, and my stomach tightens unconsciously. I watch the boy standing there right in front of us, judging Lex with a single glance, and I become painfully aware of the little things that constantly remind me of the life Lex leads. I try to push it down, try to make it go away but it won't, it can't. But I put it out of my mind for now as he turns to me with a grin and opens the door for me, stepping out onto the sidewalk and pulling his jacket tighter around him before securing the beanie on his head.
"You know what you need? A wallet...and a credit card...and a bank account," I tease him with a grin and he gives me that you've got to be fucking kidding look.
"Drug dealers can't get bank accounts, stupid!" He raises a hand to me jokingly and pretends to smack the shit out of me and I cower playfully before he throws an arm tight around my neck and we both laugh. "Hey, check it out." He points and nods over to a nice sized crowd of people, maybe forty or so, all bouncing around and dancing to a band that is playing loudly on the other side of the street from where we're walking along the sidewalk.
Something instantaneously lights up inside of me when I hear that music, see those people dancing around, and I want to dance. I want to dance like I danced in my room when I was sixteen. Arms over my head, blonde hair flipping and bouncing as I turned in circles, bopping my head to the beats and swaying my hips like I didn't give a damn who was watching me.
"Let's go." My eyes shine up at him when I say it and I know he can see the excitement in my face because he grins back at me, but shakes his head adamantly when I gesture to the crowd of people with my eyes.
"Nah, I'm good." He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck nervously and I reach for his arm, tugging his hand back down and pulling on his wrist.
"Come dance with me, Lex!" I giggle at him, his shoulders turning a little as I tug on his arm, but his feet stay firmly planted.
He chuckles at me a little. "I told you I'm good. You go ahead."
And I give him a small pout before dropping his hand. I want him to come. I want him to just enjoy this, to live in this moment, and normally I would just push the urge aside and not leave him standing here, but this isn't about him. My life can't be about him anymore.
"Fine." I turn my nose up at him and purse my lips before turning on my heel and bounding across the street to join the mob. I throw him a look just before I slip into the crowd to find him looking somewhat surprised, eyebrows slightly raised at my fearlessness. But I brush him off as the heavy beats take over me and I'm lost in the sea of swaying bodies; moving, shaking, and feeling free. I have to keep telling myself there are other ways to be free.
I peer across the crowd and see him watching me from the other side of the street and for a second I'm eighteen again, in that little smoky bar in Mexico, watching him watch me, wanting him to want me. But now I want him out here with me, and I crook my finger at him. He just shakes his head, taking a step out into the street but not moving to join me, arms crossed over his chest as he watches me with a look of amusement dancing on his face, the setting sun painting his skin golden and orange and red. I sigh a little, giving him an exaggerated pout and he just laughs and rolls his eyes. So I slide out of the swaying bodies and bounce over to him, grabbing his wrists in my hands.
"C'mon, Lex. Let loose, live a little."
"I don't dance." He narrows his eyes at me, but I can see the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. I grin at him, remembering a time when we had danced together every night, his front pressed to my back, young able bodies swaying without a care to the heavy beat of a moving rhythm in another place and time. Just two young kids who wanted to be near each other, to feel each other, to feel alive. I want that tonight...
I want us to feel alive again.
"Don't...or can't?" I tease, alternating pushing and pulling his wrists so that his shoulders turn from side to side and he chuckles, pulling his wrists out of my grasp.
"I can fucking dance, thank you very much!" His cheeks redden a little and I can't even remember the last time I made him blush, but he's so fucking cute I just giggle at him.
I poke him in the chest playfully. "Then do it! C'mon, somewhere in there there's gotta be a Lex who doesn't have to be such a badass all the time." I poke him again, flirting with him.
I'm actually flirting with him. That's what this is...this giggling, blushing, playing...so innocent that I could barely recognize it, but something inside of me loves it. It takes me back, back to when things were simple, when they were right, and I know that's not how they are now, but just to feel this way for a moment, it's good.
"But I'm so great at it." He gives me that cheeky grin and shoves his hands deep into his pockets. I grab his elbow, looking up at him with knowin
g eyes.
"Too great sometimes. But I know you better. C'mon, dance with me." I tug his arm again and he's reluctant. He fights me for a moment, leaning his weight back with a laugh as I try to pull him forward. His feet finally stumble and he slips his hands from his pockets, allowing me to take his hand and lead him into the crowd.
I spin around instantly to face him, and he stands there looking embarrassed and regretful for a moment before I take both of his hands in mine and move his arms, trying to loosen him up. He tugs me forward, licking his lips as he presses his body to mine, but I pull back because this isn't about that. This isn't about him grinding on me and getting his dick all hard and sneaking into a dark corner to let our hands wander. This...this is about freedom. This is about us forgetting who we are, who we're supposed to be, and just being here, right now, in this moment. Because we may never have this again.
"Dance," I encourage him with a grin and he's still standing there awkwardly, watching me, chewing nervously on his lip. I sigh, stepping close enough to him so only he can hear me. "No one here knows who you are. No one."
He tips his head back with a sigh and he knows now; I know he finally gets what tonight is about. All of that bad boy shit is for L.A. It's not for tonight, not here, not now. He looks back down at me, a little lost at first, but a slow grin creeps across his lips and he nods. I beam up at him before stepping away again, letting myself get carried by the beating of the drums.
When I look back over at him, he's moving. Knees bending, body dipping and ducking from side to side, arms stretched out in front of him, bottom lip pulled in tight between his teeth, a cocky smirk playing on his face. And I absolutely fucking adore him. His feet step to the rhythm of the bass and his shoulders shake from side to side and I clap giddily and call out to him as I shake and sway.
