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“Did you ever consider counseling?” He hasn’t mentioned it since we first talked about it.
“I don’t want to do it.” His voice is hard and closed off enough that I don’t follow up with any questions. I rest my head on his shoulder again, letting the quiet seep into the hard edges that have appeared. FC’s tense muscles ever so slowly give and unwind as he relaxes. He leans his head against mine as his breathing begins to even. “I haven’t been able to relax since the last time I was here.” He pauses. “Feels good, Idaline.”
He’s thinking about how good it is to relax here, my apartment his apparent safe haven, while I’m over here being a horrible human and thinking how good it feels to be next to him like this. His arm around me, our heads close together, and our bodies only inches apart.
It’s a good thing FC doesn’t come around that often. I don’t think it would be beneficial to my relationship with Justin. Visits from FC always muddy my thoughts and confuse my heart. I’ve been trying my damnedest to go all in, head first with Justin. Whenever FC is around, it’s not only hard to remember that, but it’s as if no one else exists in the world. It’s dangerous, which means my grandpa was right to give me that advice, even though I won’t ever listen to him.
FC and I are friends. I know this. My brain knows this. My heart tries to accept it. My soul, however, downright refuses to accept that fact. My soul sees FC and it might as well leave my body to chase after him and his soul. I keep waiting for my soul to detach itself from FC’s and to see the good man I have in front of me: Justin.
Justin who is nice and sweet and who over the course of four months, I’ve only had now two arguments with. Justin with whom things are easy and uncomplicated. Justin, a person who I actually have a chance with and who I like.
Justin texts, asking what we’re doing, and he surprises me by asking if I know what’s going on with FC. When I say I don’t, only that it’s something with his girlfriend, Justin goes off a little bit. He rants in a text that it’s a little suspicious that FC won’t tell me, his supposed best friend, his problems, and how he shouldn’t be leaving his girlfriend to see another girl, even if it is just a friend. And then, he goes on to say he’s certain FC has feelings for me. Once again, I’m getting the advice to stop letting him come over to my house.
I glance over at a now-a
sleep FC, wondering if there’s any truth to Justin’s claims, but knowing it doesn’t matter if there is. With a quiet sigh, I ease away from him to move to a nearby chair with my phone in hand to text Justin back.
Me: I’m sorry about FC, okay? I don’t want to tell him he can’t come and have something bad happen. I wouldn’t be able to handle that.
Justin: What would possibly happen? I don’t understand why you’re so concerned. I’m telling you he doesn’t need to come over anymore, Idaline.
Me: Why? All he does is come, hang out, and sleep on the couch. And he needs a safe place to go. I won’t take that from him. He’s a recovering alcoholic, okay? I’m closer than his parents. If he’s close to relapsing and his girlfriend isn’t any help, I’m not turning him away. I don’t like arguing with you. Will you just please come over? FC’s asleep.
Between arguing with him about FC and thinking about what he said, I’d feel better if I could just see him and reassure myself that things are okay. I need to get it out of my head that one day, at some point in my future, I’ll end up with FC. It won’t happen. Other than that mistake of a kiss when he was obviously just looking for an escape, he’s shown no interest in me. We’re both in relationships and I need to put all of my focus and energy into mine.
Me: Please come over? I want to sleep in your arms tonight.
Justin: I’ll be there shortly.
I relax at reading his text and look over at FC. Things will be okay—for both of us.
When I wake up, there’s a blanket lying over me. I reach for my phone and turn off the alarm. After stretching and folding up my blanket, I slip on my shoes and head for Idaline’s room. She’s always insistent about me saying goodbye, even at these ungodly hours in the mornings when she should use this time to continue with uninterrupted sleep.
I stop short in the doorway because there’s clearly someone in bed with her. It’s like a punch in the gut. She must have called Justin over, probably to make up from their argument. I definitely don’t want to risk waking him up or to upset him because I came into her room or whatever other way I could cross a line. Halfway down the hallway, I turn back around. Fuck it. Idaline wants me to say goodbye and that’s what I’m going to do.
With a deep breath, I enter her room and quietly walk up to her bed. I breathe a little easier since they aren’t tangled together. One quick shake to her shoulder wakes Idaline up. Her smile eases the knot in my gut as she carefully sits up.
“Saying goodbye?” she whispers, causing me to nod. She glances over at Justin. “He doesn’t think I should let you come back.” And my knot twists tight again.
“Do what’s best for you and your relationship, Idaline,” I whisper.
She frowns and shakes her head. “I haven’t been your best friend for twelve years to abandon you because a boyfriend told me to. I’ll figure something out.”
No, she won’t because I won’t ask anymore. I won’t stand in the way of Idaline’s happiness. I won’t allow her to make the decision when it appears she’ll choose the wrong one. “I should go,” I say quietly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Idaline holds out her arms and I give her a hug, kissing her cheek. It’s officially time to go and I leave knowing it’s likely the last time I’ll see Idaline for a long time.
Lila is asleep when I get to the apartment. As quietly as I can, I get ready for work. But before I can leave, I stop short for the second time today. There’s an open pack of cigarettes on the dining table with a lighter lying next to it. I snatch it and see that two are missing. She better not be smoking. Either she is, or she’s had someone over. Just in case it’s her, I take the pack with me.
Who knew having a pack of cigarettes with me would be just as tempting as thinking about alcohol and wanting it? Cigarettes aren’t nearly as troublesome, even though it’s still an unhealthy addiction I don’t need. But one cigarette won’t send me spiraling like one shot of tequila will. That pack burns a hole in my pocket all fucking day.
On my lunch break, I take a deep breath before going inside the apartment. Thanks to spending so much money on hotels lately, it would be in my best interest to eat at home as often as I can instead of eating out. Unfortunately, it means I have to see Lila. She’s seated at the table, already eating when I walk into the apartment.
“Hey, did you take my pack of cigarettes this morning?” she asks.
“You don’t need to smoke while you’re pregnant with my baby.” I begin to fix myself a sandwich.
“One or two a day won’t hurt him.”
