“I’ll call you. It’s nothing. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just need some space tobreathe.”
He approaches like he’s going to offer a hug or a kiss, and I raise my hand between us. “I really do need a moment.” And the expression on his face from my rejection…I can feel how wounded heis.
It’s not what I wanted. He doesn’t understand this isn’t abouthim.
“We’re fine,” I spit out. “I just need to process this,okay?”
“Okay,” he says. “Can I at least get ahug?”
I tear up. “Yeah, you can get ahug.”
I thought I would feel gross and disgusting at the touch, but it actually makes me feel a little better. It’s nice having him close to me again, nice feeling his body. In a way, there’s comfort in having him here with me. I’m not used to it. I’ve always done this on myown.
As he pulls away, he looks me up and down before saying, “Okay, but call me and let me know you’reokay.”
He takes my hand, squeezes gently, and kisses me on my cheek before turning and walking toward thedoor.
Stop him! Don’t let himleave!
But a part of me knows it’s best if I wait for this crippling feeling topass.
As I hear the door open, see him start to head out, something rises in me, and I say, I think almost inaudibly, “Don’t leave me,Jesse.”
He stops in histracks.
I feared he might not have even heard me, that I wouldn’t be able to get the words out loud enough, but he closes the door and turns tome.
“Please stay,” I add. I can hear the pathetic desperation in myvoice.
He walks back to me. He moves in close, but not too close. It’s like he’s waiting for permission from me to know it’sokay.
I can’t believe I’m asking him to stay, but the truth is, I don’t want him out of mylife.
Not now. Notever.
Jesse’s been the one amazing thing I’ve had in my life in a very long time, and I feel like if I let him walk out that door, I might lose thatforever.
It’s not worthit.
“I would really like to stay,” hesays.
“I don’t know how good of company I’m gonnabe.”
“You don’t need to be good company. I can just be here, and you can let me know when you feelbetter.”
We’re both skirting around what he must know, what he must have figured out the moment it happened. While I don’t like that he’s onto my secret, there’s some catharsis in knowing the secret that’s haunted me is out there. Even though I haven’t articulated it, at least someone knows that something is wrong and I’m not okay. I’ve never felt that way before, and as much pain as I’m in, I don’t feel as alone as I usuallydo.
Seeing the sadness in his eyes, his worry, makes me push past the darkness, the toxic pain that seizes control of my body. I throw my arms around him, pulling him close to me. He tugs me closer, and I feel that same strength and security that is so familiar with him. I whisper against his ear, “I’m fucked up,Jesse.”
It feels like a much deeper confession than it is. It feels good. It feels much better than that intolerable silence on our way back home. There’s relief in sharing even thatmuch.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Eric, and I’m here. I’m here foryou.”
I can’t keep up my front anymore. The tears start rolling down my face because of his words—more than the incident, there’s a deeper understanding. I can hear that he knows what my hurt is about, even though I couldn’t tell him about it right now if Itried.
But knowing he’s not rushing or forcing me, that he is just as he said, here for me, feels soincredible.
I weep, and it feels so fucking good, so much better than that numbness…than trying to be strong. Once again I’ve lost control of my body, but in a way that feels less painful as the tears overtakeme.
