I shrugged, feeling my eye twitch as I kept a pained hiss from spilling out. “I’m hanging in there. Here, wanna sit?” I pulled my legs closer to my body, giving her more room.
The couch, my newfound sanctuary, dipped as she sat. I automatically braced myself, acting on reflex. Sometimes, I’d get dizzy and the world would spin, like nothing was stable enough. Sarah and I looked at each other, both bordering on awkward—at least more awkward than it already was. “I’m glad you’re doing okay. Or, more okay, I guess.” Her voice was small. Fragile. Scared, maybe.
Crescent was doing something in the kitchen—I could hear plates clanking against the countertops and the shuffle of a drawer opening. Turning my focus back to Sarah, I tried to look past the sadness engulfing every line etched into her face. “Thank you for calling Crescent when you did. And not calling the cops… I probably wouldn’t have said anything if you had.”
“I didn’t think you would. My sister, she went through something similar to you.” She sighed, stray hairs fluttering in front of her mouth. “We got her to a hospital, and all she did was clam up. Didn’t say a word. With how much you were refusing to go, I figured it would be the same for you. I saw my sister struggle, but seeing basically a stranger, who I’ve seen so often just out and about, go through it? It put so many things into perspective.”
Yeah, I guess it would. From the outside, I wasn’t surehow I looked. Was I as ethereal as I once believed I was? An angel, with a bright halo to illuminate every inch of my skin. Who was I to someone who didn’t know me on the inside?
I wasn’t the same anymore—I knew that much. If someone were to compare the me from back then to the me now, they’d have a hard time finding a similarity. Because, now, I was wilted and broken. A shell of a man, once bright and creative, dimmed by years of loveless love. Love I’d fought tooth and nail to not give up on—literally.
“You truly never know what someone is going through, I guess.” Sarah looked up, watching Crescent as he balanced a plate and a glass of water. “I guess I should get out of your hair now, huh?”
She started to stand, just as Crescent cut her off. “You can stay if Elio is okay with it?” He set the plate down on the coffee table in front of us.
“Yeah, that’s fine. But, um, could we not talk about my situation if you do?” There were hundreds of hours we could spend on it. I just wanted to forget for a while. I wanted to be a lowly human, rather than the lowlier “Jude’s boyfriend” for once.
I pulled my legs back further for Crescent to take a seat between us. “Of course, El. But I did make you a little snack to take your meds with first.” Gently, he grabbed my ankles and settled them in his lap, letting me stretch out.
He handed me a plate of apple slices and peanut butter, letting me balance it on my stomach. A rising warmth started in my neck, billowing up to my cheeks.
“Do you guys want to watch some TV?”
The couch was full now; all of us underneath the photos of Crescent’s family—me included. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat on a couch with people I liked and did something as mundane as watching television.Sarah perked up, looking between us for a moment. “Sure. What do you usually watch?”
Crescent rubbed his chin, seemingly deep in thought, before reaching forward to grab the remote from the coffee table. “Let’s see what’s on. I have a subscription with live TV included.”
I’d completely forgotten live TV was a thing. We flipped through different shows in silence as I chewed on my apple slices, flicking my gaze between them and the screen.
“Oh! I love that show.” Sarah pointed at the screen where Crescent was paused.
“Really? I watch it all the time. It’s one of my go-tos.”
I squinted, reading the title name. “Hell’s Kitchen? What’s that about?”
With the way their heads snapped in my direction, there should’ve been a slow-motion replay.
Crescent’s mouth was open as he stared at me. “The greatest chef to exist, Gordon fucking Ramsay. Oh, we are definitely watching this.” He pressed play and set the remote down, reaching for the pill and glass of water. “Go ahead and take this really quick for me.”
The show started in the middle of an episode, with a man—Gordon Ramsay, I assumed—standing in front of two groups of people. I swallowed the pill, never taking my eyes off the screen.
“To help me judge your dishes today,” Gordon started, “I’ve brought a very special guest with me. Even though he’s self-taught, his unique palate for fine cuisine has made headlines around the world. Owner of Fire and Ice in Crescent Planes, New York, please welcome Price Iverson.”
The camera panned to a set of frosted doors, a figure bursting through them only a moment after. All the contestantswere shocked, applauding and gasping at his appearance.
Sarah gasped from the end of the couch, sounding just like the contestants on screen. “Holy shit! I was just telling someone the other day that I wanted to go eat at his restaurant.”
“Did he say Crescent Planes, New York?” I lifted my head a little to look at her.
“Yeah, it’s more upstate, I think. He and his husband just got married not too long ago. Their restaurant went viral on TikTok and made it into the news and stuff. They’re booked up, like, six months in advance.”
It made sense why I hadn’t heard of it. I wondered for a moment if I’d like social media. Crescent had raved about TikTok before, even showing me those cat videos. “Maybe we should go someday, Cres. Crescent in Crescent Planes.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “That would be funny, honestly. We should look them up sometime.”
And then, like we’d all been friends for years on end, like nothing was wrong, like I was just a normal person without bruises on my skin, we watched TV together. Live TV. On a couch we were all sharing.
Was this what freedom felt like?
