by Ashley Love
Tonight could end things. If he blows up and his temper takes over as it usually does, if I really stand up to him once and for all and tell him what I need to tell him, it could be over. I can't do this with him anymore; the sex, being around him so much. I want to be there for him but I have to protect myself. I've always leaned on him for that, but it's time for me to do the right thing.
The right thing? I don't even fucking know what that is. The "just friends" thing has never worked for us. I want it to work, I need it to work so I can keep him in my life. It just doesn't work. We want each other too much. We always did before, and even now after all of this shit, I know that I would still do any fucking thing for him that he needed, and I know that's not right. I'm not a stupid person, why can't I just do the right thing?
Because love fucks with your head. And I love him. There's something in him that I need and there's something in me that he needs, and I know it seems like we totally annoy the shit out of each other (which is true for the most part) but I don't know what I would do without him. I can't lose him...I can't.
I don't want to lose him, but I can't connect with him either. I'm trying but I can't, and its freaking me out and pissing me off and I feel helpless and desperate. I just...I know where his head is, and that's tough to admit. I know because I was him. My head was in the drugs too, but I want to know how he feels. I've always wanted to know how he feels, but that's the one fucking thing that he keeps inside. Sober or fucked up, he doesn't want to go there. I know where his head is and I want to get inside of it but I'm scared. I'm scared to go there again, to try and decipher that mental state, because right now I'm trying to run from it.
It just doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right right now. I just feel this dread in my stomach when I look at him and I can't shake it.
Dread. Can't. Connect. Lost.
Fuck it. I give up for now. His phone rings and he pulls off into a fast food parking lot. He flips it open and brings it up to his ear. "What up, Fabian?"
We sit for a few moments and I look around, wondering how long he's going to talk before we continue on our way to wherever we're going. But he turns off the truck and starts to open his door, taking the keys from the ignition.
"Ha ha, real cute, Lex." I don't move to get out of the truck and he gives me a confused look.
"What?"
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Fast food? This is what he calls dinner? He has to be fucking kidding.
"Didn't you tell me you were hungry? Come the fuck on." He slides out of his seat and goes back to the phone, muttering, "Sorry, man," before he continues his conversation. He's not kidding. He's serious. And I hate to say that I'm disappointed in him because I've tried to do this thing where I don't expect much from him so that I'm never let down, but after the other night...I just thought it was real. But tonight, tonight makes it all feel like a huge joke.
When we step inside the memories flood me. I remember standing right here and reading the menu, giant and illuminated in a tempting way on the wall. But it's funny, when I look at it now and read it straight through, I feel like I've never really been here. I was someone else when I was here before. I don't even remember what I like, what I used to eat. I've never even been here without being stoned.
Stoned. High. I get that itch. Itch. Itch. It makes me nervous, it makes me sweat. No, no, no... My physical discomfort tempered with Lex's constant chatter on that damn cell phone is enough to make me...to make me want to...
Fuck. We need to go. We need to leave.
"Lex." My voice is trembling when I turn to him, and his back is to me. I call out for him again weakly and he turns to me. He puts his hand over the end of his phone and pulls it down from his mouth.
"Did you order? I want a number five."
I shake my head. "Lex, please..."
Fuck, it's hot in here.
He holds a finger up to me. "Hold on." And he goes back to the phone. My insides tremble and I swear to fucking God I'm going to break all of his fingers one day, maybe when he's asleep.
"Ma'am I can help you when you're ready."
Oh, no lady...you don't have the kinda help I need...
I look at Lex and I look at her and I look back at him. I'm looking to him for help, for assurance, and his back is to me. What a surprise. I step up to the counter slowly. I feel like my eyes are twitching and I can barely hear anything because my heart is beating so loud, all the way into my ears. I know she knows. My hands tremble and I hold the counter to steady them. She has to know.
"What can I get for you?"
Coke...a dimebag of coke...and an ounce of weed. Good shit too, don't fuck around.
I lick my dry lips and somehow I find my voice. "Um...two number fives I guess," I answer and look over my shoulder at Lex, still on the phone. I don't even know what a fucking number five is. I don't care.
"And to drink?"
Vodka. About three shots would be perfect. Oh, fuck it, make it Everclear. I'm in that kinda mood tonight.
"Sprite."
"Okay that's two numbers fives with Sprites for both, anything else?"
Yeah, why don't you just go ahead and shoot both of us in the fucking head.
What the fuck am I saying? I snap out of it. "No, that's it." I'm starting to feel dizzy and I wonder what Lex would do if I fainted right fucking here; just dropped. She gives me my total and my head is spinning. I look back at Lex again and his eyes meet mine, stopping his phone conversation for just a moment.
"Can you get that, Leala?"
If looks could kill...
I pay the lady and she gives me the little orange number to set on the table and I go find somewhere to sit, not caring if Lex is following me or not. I want to talk to him. I want to talk to him about what just happened because it scares me and I think I need to talk about it, but I know he's not listening. He's being bad boy Lex right now. Even if I tell him and he's listening, he doesn't hear me.
He falls into the hard seat of the booth with the phone still to his ear and I stare at him across the table. It just doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense. It was going so good before, and now...nothing. We have nothing. It just feels wrong. That dread creeps up again. I know I'm not supposed to be with him. But I know I can't be without him because...because I love him. I do. But right now I just feel wrong.
Sex fucked up my brain; it was like a fucking brain ninja. It came in with its katana and it sliced my fucking brain and it disappeared into the night. And now I'm fucked. My brain is totally fucked and my heart is exploding. I can't be who I was; I'm not quite who I'm supposed to be yet. I'm stuck somewhere in the middle. When it comes to everything. Especially Lex.
This is just so unlike me to not know what to do next, to be so baffled by something that should be so simple. It should be a simple decision... leave Lex... he's bad for me. Leave him. THIS SHOULD BE SIMPLE! But it's not simple. Love...love is never simple.
"Shut the fuck up! No way!" he shouts into the phone, his laughter tearing through the small sitting area and snapping me out of my daze. People look at us in an annoyed way and I reach across the table, poking him in the bicep and he slaps my hand away with a scowl. He lets out another cackle of laughter and curses and a middle-aged woman sitting close to us leads her small son away to the play area inside. I scowl at Lex again, giving her an apologetic look. He narrows his steel blue eyes at me. "Dude, what the fuck did you do?...No way!...No way!...Oh fuck...Well that's not surprising, I mean the bitch has the loosest cunt in L.A...yeah, I swear!"
I'm seething as I stare at him across the table, being a fucking belligerent ass, and he's probably doing it on purpose at this point. A guy sitting behind Lex meets my eyes over his shoulder and I just shrug, quietly saying I'm sorry, not expecting Lex to notice or care.
"Hey! What the fuck!" I feel his fingertips tap against my jaw and my eyes snap back to his. "No, not you, man...yeah I'm with somebody...nah man, it's just Leala."
&
nbsp; Just Leala.
Lex's eyes harden at me and he opens his mouth to say something else but a tall stringy-haired kid brings our food out on a tray without a word. His shoulders are slumped and I'm sure he hates that visor on his head, and judging from his facial expression I'm sure he hates his job and maybe his life in general. He gives me a nod before turning and walking back.
Lex finally hangs up his phone and reaches forward to snatch his fries from the tray, shoving a few into his mouth, but I know he's not hungry. He probably hasn't been truly hungry in months. I know I was never hungry...
I was never hungry and I was never tired unless I was blitzed, and I know my eyes were red and bruised underneath like his. And I know looking at him right now is like looking in a mirror, and it's painful. His cheeks are sunken in and his shoulders are bony and poking up. He's slumped over, looking simply like a hanger for his black t-shirt instead of a person wearing it. I wonder if he feels like a person, because I know sometimes I just felt like a thing. Just a thing that existed without much to live for except that space in between one high after another, and I can't stand to see him still living this way when I'm not. I can't stand to see him suffer...because I love him.
I take a slow drink of my Sprite and try to ignore it. Just push it down. His phone rings. Again. He silences it and continues to eat slowly, eyeing me once in a while but saying nothing, and my burger is making me want to vomit. Or maybe it's my nerves.
The phone. Ringing. Again.
I want to break it. I want to break it and I want to punch him in the back of the head and I want to grab his face and kiss his fucking mouth off and I want to hate him and love him and...I quit. I quit. I give up. I can't do it, I can't tell him. Not tonight.
I just eat...and I give up.
His phone rings again and when I groan loudly, falling against the back of my seat with an exasperated sigh, he snatches it up and answers, falling into his pointless chatter and laughter again. I can't eat anymore of this or I'm going to puke.
He reaches for his burger and unwraps it, taking a bite, talking with his mouth full, and I want to go home. I want to go home and try again on another day, just try to start over. He makes a face, muttering with his mouth full.
"Jesus Christ, Leala...you didn't tell them not to put fucking ketchup on this shit?" He peels the bun back with a scowl and groans, shaking his head as he reaches for a napkin and tries to salvage his burger. I know he doesn't like ketchup but that wasn't exactly my first thought when I walked in here. It was more along the lines of I want a huge hit on a line, but I pushed it down along with everything else.
Push it down...push it down...push it down...shove shove shove and pack it down until you can't hold anymore...
But I explode. My brain explodes and my heart explodes and I tear up from my seat and storm outside, pushing back the tears because I feel like that's the one thing I can control at this moment. I hang my head back and breathe, just breathe in the clean cold air, pooling the tears on the surface of my eyes within my lids but not letting them spill over. I have to control them. I have to control something, because everything else...I don't have a shot in hell of controlling right now.
I'm still looking up when I hear the door swing open and his sneakers scuff against the pavement of the parking lot. I don't look at him until I hear his voice.
"What the fuck, Leala?"
I ignore what he says, my thoughts and personal agenda taking over, consuming me, not letting me hold anything back anymore. "I knew it wasn't real. I knew it couldn't be real...it couldn't be real and then you turn around and do some shit like this." I lock eyes with him and I see the panic and confusion settle on his face.
"What?"
"So I guess you wanted a fuck and you're done now, huh?"
"Why the fuck are you coming at me with this?" His voice trembles just barely and my heart quickens. I know my voice only trembles when I'm so mad I can't see straight, or when I'm about to cry. There's no anger in his voice, but why would he be hurt right now? Why? When he doesn't even seem to care...or maybe he does. No, no, I can't give myself that hope. I did that before, and tonight it came crashing down. I push it down, the rage rising in me, rolling over like a tidal wave and I feel the fire ignite in my belly and behind my eyes.
"What the fuck is this, Lex?" I gesture around us, feeling almost maniacal, insides trembling, and I've never been this angry, never felt so confused and hurt and out of control.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I should've known..." My voice is low and I shake my head and grab the door handle of his truck, jerking it open and throwing myself into the seat. He's scrambling in through the driver's side after me, eyes wide with confusion and something that looks like fear but I'm not sure if it is or if it's panic.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!"
"This is bullshit," I mutter under my breath, a wave of disappointment crashing over me and I'm pushing the tears back again. I quit. I fucking give up. I'm so damn angry, and I was so close. It was so real that night, it was all real. But now I know it wasn't. At least I tell myself it wasn't, that way I'm less disappointed and not expecting it. I shouldn't expect so much from him. Why won't you just tell me how you feel, Lex?! I'm angry, confused, hurt, frustrated, and in pain. Why?! Why won't he just get clean? Why won't he get clean and just...love me? Just love me.
I jump a little when I feel his hand on my arm and his touch is soft, unsure. "C'mon, Leala..." His hand smooths down my arm and I'm back in his truck that night, laying across the backseat, and I shake my head to clear it, pulling away from him. "What the fuck!?" he shouts, and I flinch. "The other night you wanna fuck and now I can't even touch you? You don't make any fucking sense."
My temper flares again. "I didn't wanna fuck you, Lex!"
His face goes blank for a moment, searching my eyes. "Are you saying...no...no, no...you said yes!" His voice raises in a slight panic and he points an accusing finger at me. "You're the one who got in the back seat!"
"Did you ever think that maybe sex is more than just sex sometimes?" I ask him flatly and his face screws up in confusion. Beyond confusion. He shakes his head dumbly, pressing his palms to his forehead and running them back over his head, before pulling them back forward and running them over his face with a groan.
"What the fuck are you talking about, woman? Is this some of that PMS shit?" His eyes don't meet mine and he fumbles with his keys, hands trembling slightly and he's obviously shaken up and trying to play it off. "Its cool, I mean I know how you get all irrational and shit."
I scoff at him. "I'm the one being irrational? Me?!"
"Well you're the one yelling at me for no fucking reason!" He starts the truck and tears out onto the street and my weight falls against the door and I glare at him.
"No fucking reason!?!" I throw my hands up in the air and let them slap against my thighs in frustration. "The other night you're trying to romance me, and tonight....tonight..." I trail off and shake my head as I look out the window, thinking of words to sum up the level of shittiness that tonight reached, and I open my mouth to speak again.
"Romance you?!" He cuts me off and my head snaps around to him, my posture stiffening defensively, leaning toward him and I want to jump over the center console and beat his ignorant ass.
"What the fuck else would you call it? Dinner...dancing in the fucking street...all the things you said to me..."
"That was your fucking idea!"
I freeze, gawking at him. My heart stops. Did he just...
My brain can't even process this. Fuck this. Fuck him. God, why can't I just hate him? This night has just totally thrown me off, and I constantly feel this dread in the pit of my stomach. This isn't right. Something isn't right.
I just...I don't know what should logically come next. Nothing about tonight seems to just fall naturally into order, and I'm not used to this, I'm used to having answers. I'm used to being that person, or b
eing stoned and not caring. I know I shouldn't be where I am, at all, period. Not here, with Lex, again. But I'm here, because my brain is jammed, and my heart is just...chaos.
It's intimidating. Being sober is intimidating, getting it right, making it work, not fucking up. It's hard, and I feel so much pressure. I feel that pressure for perfection again and Lex is the only one that doesn't pressure me to be person. That perfect person. I know I shouldn't be here but it doesn't feel right to be without Lex. It makes me scared.
I don't know anything else but him, I can't remember anything else but him, and above everything else I don't want to do this alone. I want to do it with him, I want us to do this, but so many things don't make sense and there's still that constant nagging dread. Why is Lex bothering with me if he doesn't love me? And if he loves me why isn't he making an effort to change?
"Oh, okay. So you were trying to get into my pants. I guess I shouldn't have expected much more from you." My words bite, but I don't know what else to say or do, so I turn into a bitch. Really mature, I know, but I always fall back into this when he hurts me so badly. I don't tell him he's hurting me. I just want to hurt him back.
"Fuck you! That was not what it was about!" he growls as we pull up to a stop sign and not only does his truck stop, but everything stops. We both stop talking, I stop breathing, everything just...stops. And we stare at each other.
"Lex..." I start but something stops me.
"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me," he groans as the red and blue lights illuminate the inside of his truck from behind us and I glance in my side mirror to see an LAPD car pulled up on his bumper. He turns off the street into an empty parking lot and I give him an uneasy look before sinking down in my seat a little. "Chill out, there's no drugs in the truck," he mutters before a flashlight beam flits into the window, dancing back and forth between his face and mine.
"Good evening," the cop muses almost sarcastically as Lex rolls down his window.
"I guess you could call it that," Lex grumbles and rolls his eyes as he recognizes the man immediately, and the officer makes a face.
