If It Weren't For the Two of Us Chapter 29
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29
Following the weekend, I felt I had unintentionally pushed Mike away a little too much. I knew he would help with moving this upcoming weekend, but I buried myself into work so much, my contact with him was just a few short calls and texts. I felt bad about that. I was the same with Lance. Any free time I had, I devoted to finishing Act II. I still had a ways to go, but I was pleased with my progress. I was into it; I didn't want to slow my momentum.
Thursday snapped things back to where they both became important. I had made a mistake. Having worked on some preparations for the 11 o'clock segment, when I arrived at work, I shortly realized I didn't have them with me. I could not leave before then to return home to get them.
I called Mike.
"Hi babe!" he said. "Aren't you at work?"
"Yes, and I've fucked up."
"What? What happened?"
"Well, nothing yet, but it will in a couple of hours."
I typed up all the programming notes for the 11 o'clock segment and left them on the kitchen table. I meant to grab them. Lance should already be at work. Do you think you can get them for me? Are you free?"
"Sure, babe. If Lance is gone, I should just swing by and get the key from you at the station?"
"Yes! That will work."
Mike got there in 15 minutes. I made a few simple introductions to a handful of staff members but didn't tell them of my mistake.
"You'll see them on the kitchen table."
I gave Mike a quick peck on the lips.
About 30 minutes later he returned with the papers. I went out to collect them in the front area.
"You are a life saver! I would have been a fumbling idiot without these. Can you imagine if I'd made such a bonehead move in my second week!!?"
"Is it okay if I watch you work?"
"Umm. I don't know. I don't know if visitors are allowed."
A few minutes later, Angela said she would assist Mike in watching from a distance as to not distract the on-air people. Standing away from the hall window, he could see the two sportscasters delivering their on-air banter, but could see me in another room beyond theirs, working phones, audio levels and sound bites. After about 15 minutes he smiled and waved. I watched him head out.
As the program was winding down, I shot him a quick text.
"Thanks for saving my ass."
I was expecting some sexual comment regarding my ass in return. Actually, I was hoping for one. My phone buzzed.
"We need to talk," Mike returned.
Fuck. That sounded ominous. My mind darted all over the place trying to figure out what that meant. I couldn't wait until lunch to give him a call but slightly dreaded it.
Following the program, both sportscasters complimented me on my input and the show I helped produce. We talked about some ideas for next week, and I said I'd start working on some background for the topics they wanted to discuss. Everyone had learned to like me. At least, that's how I felt. I was really working hard. I wanted them to think I was doing a good job. Thankfully, I totally loved it.
But I needed to call Mike.
"Hi. Your message was kind of concerning."
"Yeah. I got there around 9:20. When does Lance go in?"
"Um. I think today he was due in at 9 o'clock and would probably leave around 8:40. If I had realized it in enough time, I would have asked him to bring the papers on the way to work. It's a bit of the opposite direction; I just didn't realize it in time. You probably just missed him."
"No."
"Huh?"
"Trent. Lance was still there. I slammed the door a little louder than I should have. I guess he heard it. I just heard someone yell, `Fuck!' I called out to see if it was him. He didn't know why I was there, but he fumbled out into the living room. Not much on. I wanted to explain why I was entering his apartment. I told him you thought he would be at work. He screamed he was supposed to. He overslept. Then he started cussing at himself. I wanted to help but didn't know what I could do. I think he dabbed on some cologne, ran a wet brush through his hair and threw on some fresh clothes. He just ran out the door screaming `Fuck!'"
"No way."
"Trent, I saw a lot of beer cans in the kitchen trash. Is the drinking affecting his work now?"
"Mike, what am I going to do?"
"It's not your problem, babe. I mean, yeah, you're there for him, but Lance has to be a responsible adult."
"Fuck."
My eyes glazed over. What was I going to say to him? At what point did I sound like a Mom or a nag?
"Thanks again, honey. You're the best. I'll see you tomorrow night. I love you."
"Love you, too."
—
I got home at 4:00. Lance arrived after 6:00.
"Want to go out for pizza?" I asked. "I'll drive."
"I'll buy, since I got paid this week," Lance offered.
We arrived at Roman Column and sat at the booth. A server walked up.
"I'll have a Diet Coke," I said.
"I'll have whatever you have on draft," Lance said.
"Wait. Can you change his to an iced tea?" I said. Lance gave me a strange icy look. "Please?"
"Uh, yeah. Okay. An iced tea."
The server walked away, probably wondering if we were a couple. Arguing.
"What the hell was that?" Lance asked.
"What happened this morning?"
"Oh." Lance went quiet. He looked at his hands on the table. "I guess you talked to Mike."
"So, what happened?"
"I just overslept. That's all."
"What about your alarm?"
"I – I – I guess I just forgot to set it," Lance stammered.
"Just forgot??!"
"Yeah. I told them I had problems with my car, and it took a little while to get it running. They were pretty understanding. The excuse worked."
"This time!" I exclaimed.
The server approached our table. I lowered my voice. She set our drinks down. We ordered a large pepperoni and mushroom.
"Lance, I ..." I had no idea where to go. Would anything I said make a difference? I stayed calm. "You just ... are drinking ... every night. Now it is affecting your work."
"It's not affecting work. It's one time. I just overslept."
I took his hand in mine so he would know I was serious. Lance looked around the restaurant to see if anyone noticed. I could tell by the way he looked at our hands he was uncomfortable.
"Buddy, God knows I love you, but you are scaring the shit out of me."
He squeezed my hand. He noticed someone walking near our table and pulled his hand back.
"Trent, I'm ..."
"Don't say `fine.'" I huffed out a large breath of air. "You aren't fine. Your decisions — your life! — are being affected. I'm only with you for two more days and then you have to be responsible on your own. Please, stop scaring me."
"Okay," he said softly.
He asked about Mike, and then I had to own up to my own flaws.
The pizza was once again excellent.
We talked about my moving day on Saturday. For the sake of my family, I felt it best if Mike didn't show. He would help out at the new apartment while Lance and I went to the house.
"I hate that you're leaving," Lance said.
"I think Evan would notice if I were still in his bed. But, yeah, I know. If circumstances had only been different. Timing is everything, but this one didn't work out. At least for me. You've got everything still lined up. You like Evan."
"Yeah. I do. He's just not you."
"Maybe that's a good thing," I said unconvincingly.
We both ate our last slices.
June 25
I get my own apartment in two days. That will be awesome. My place, my rules. But at the same time, I'm scared as hell for Lance. He seems so ... I hate to use the word "dependent;" it sounds so condescending ... connected to me. I'm going to sever that to a certain degree. What will happen? Will he buckle up and cut down on the drinking? Or will it take control? I'm worried as hell. But there is only so much I can do. Or is that just what someone tells themselves when they don't want to be there.
—
Lance and I picked up the U-Haul at 10 Saturday morning. As we drove to Toomerville, I told him I was a little worried about seeing my father.
"If he gives you shit, I have your back, bud," Lance said. "I'll dish it right back."
I chuckled. "You're sweet, but I can stand up for myself."
Truth be told, I was terrified underneath it all. I couldn't think of anything more horrible than being terrified to see your own family. But it is only for a few hours. Then, I never had to see Dad again if I didn't want to. What a horrible thing that would be. Fuck him. It was all up to him.
Mom greeted us in the driveway. She gave both of us a hug.
"I just made some lemonade. How about a glass before you start?"
We nodded. Mom poured each of us a glass and sat them at the kitchen table.
"Where's Dad?" I asked.
"Oh, he's out for a little bit, but he'll be here."
"How touching," I said softly.
"He'll be here, dear."
Lance wouldn't dare hold my hand in front of Mom, but he slid his foot next to mine. It said everything. It said, "I'm here."
I looked at my list, and we made a plan of attack. I was taking my bedroom furniture, but that was about it furniture wise. That's scary. Mom arranged for a loveseat and a small table that was being discarded from an office at JCPenney's. It clearly was not new, but not hideous either. I suppose that would be something to sit on to watch television. I had one of those in my room too. And a desk. I guess it wouldn't feel completely like a vacuum. Damn. I needed a vacuum!
Then there were the boxes. Several of those. Although I had taken some stuff a few weeks ago, there was plenty left.
"I wasn't sure about some of this stuff. Do you want to keep it?" Mom asked.
"What? You don't want to be my perpetual storage unit?" I joked.
"Let's try to avoid that," she said.
"We'll go through it after lunch."
We took a break. We were overdue for lunch. I saw Dad turn into the driveway.
"Hello, boys. It looks like you are making good progress," he said, shaking both our hands.
That was the extent of the affection being offered.
Before we started loading again, I sat down at the piano. I wished I could take it. I began playing a song. Lance looked shocked and walked over to me.
"How did I not know this? Why have you never told me this?"
"Just never came up."
"You're good."
I played a different song. After a minute of it, I looked at Lance.
"Hear this one?" He nodded slightly. "I wrote it."
"No fucking way!!" he shouted.
He then looked embarrassed for cussing in front of Mom. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness. She waved the whole thing away with her hand.
"I wish Trent could take the piano with him," Mom said.
"The apartment is small, Mom. I have no room for a piano."
"I don't know," said Lance. "So far we have loaded a loveseat."
"I'm sure I will get more. I will have a paycheck soon."
After another hour of work, the truck was loaded. It seemed like a ton and not nearly enough for an apartment at the same time.
We stood in the driveway, ready to head back. Mom started to tear up.
"Don't start that. You've had years to prepare for this," I scolded, my eyes just slightly misty themselves.
"I know, I know." Mom hugged me. I felt her hand in my pocket. "Just allow your mother a moment to miss her son, all right?"
"Okay. I'm all of 45 miles away, not a thousand."
I looked at Dad. He had just shaken Lance's hand. It was frightening at how little love I felt for him right now. I'm sure it was buried deep down, but I wasn't feeling it. I had no intention of hugging him. I stuck out my hand. He shook it. Neither of us knew what to say, but he captured my eyes. I looked directly into his.
"Don't give up on me, son. I'm trying to get there."
"Okay."
We pulled out of the driveway and gave a wave back. A few minutes later, out on the highway, I wiped my eyes with my shirt sleeve.
"You okay?" Lance asked.
"Yeah." I took a breath and tried to sniff snot back into my nose. "I guess I'm a little sad to say goodbye. But I'm fine. I have this whole new apartment to feel insignificant in."
"I get it. Don't expect me to be any better tonight when you say goodbye."
I reached down into my pocket and pulled out something Mom had placed there. It looked like a check.
"What's that?"
"It's from Mom. It's a check. I looked at the amount. It was $500. Only her name was printed on the check, not both parents. This was her personal account. That was probably a lot for her.
—
Lance headed home. Mike went with me to return the U-Haul and take me back to my new apartment. Everything was in. There were several boxes sitting around, but I knew once it was all put away, I would feel it looked pretty empty. That was okay for now.
"I'm going to drive back over and see if there is anything left. Say goodbye and all that. I'll be back in just a little bit."
I gave Mike a simple kiss.
"Do you feel like spending my first night here with me? Or is the clutter too much for you?"
"I'd be willing to sleep on the floor," Mike said.
"I love you. Be right back."
As I pulled up to Lance's apartment, I knew this goodbye would be pretty tough.
Lance had taken the sheets out of the dryer. I helped him fold them. The room was ready for Evan again. I looked to make sure I left everything totally clean for him. I checked through drawers and cabinets. Most of the stuff in the apartment was Lance's or Evan's already, but it felt bits of me were missing already.
"Call me every day," Lance said.
"We'll see," I said.
"God, I miss you already," he said. "I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry."
A tear ran down my face as I watched Lance try his hardest to not let the buckets of water in his eyes drip out.
We hugged. Forever. Lance pulled back to look me in the eyes. I would be less than 10 miles away, but we both felt like we were losing a best friend. Lance put his lips on mine. It was a deep kiss. It went on a long time. I loved Lance. It was an odd friendship. But it was the best I'd ever had. My heart was breaking in its own way.
We let go.
"I hate you," he said.
"I hate you back."
I drove back to the apartment. My apartment.
By the time I parked, I had worked any of today's tears out of my eyes.
When I walked in, I froze. I just looked around. So much had been put away and arranged, it almost looked like a place to live in.
"Are you mad?" Mike asked.
"Mad? At what?"
"I put a lot away. This is YOUR place, and I didn't want to overstep — and, obviously, there are still several boxes to unpack — but I didn't want you to have to end your day in what was an obstacle course."
I kissed him. "You're so sweet. It all looks good."
"We can easily move around anything or change anything if you prefer it otherwise."
I took in a deep breath. With my arm hung over my head, I looked around. I blew out my breath in a blustered pop through closed lips.
"I probably won't know until we actually get everything pulled out. But this ... this is nice. It actually feels a little bit like an apartment."
Mike reached behind the loveseat. He pulled out a bag.
"I got you something."
"What is this?" I exclaimed.
"It's pretty minimal. Don't get too excited."
The gift bag had fluffy tissue sticking out of it. I started to dig. There were multiple items wrapped in separate tissue.
The first was a candle.
"Vanilla," I said.
I unwrapped what felt like a photo frame. It was the picture of us at Lawrence Creek. He had placed it in a small — but nice — frame.
I felt a cylinder. I took off the tissue. It was a bottle of lube.
"Your own personal bottle," Mike said.
"Vanilla, of course."
Another framed picture was us in our boxers.
The largest item was a bottle of champagne.
"It's kind of for the occasion, but it's not chilled, so we can save it for another celebration."
He reached behind the loveseat again. He pulled out a wrapped box.
"I have no idea what this could be," I said.
I ripped off the paper.
"A clock!"
"It's amazing how easily you forget simple, normal things on the wall. I figured you would choose your own décor, but I thought this might be helpful. One more thing to show you."
He guided me to the bathroom.
"Wow! This ... this looks done!"
Mike had completely set up the bathroom with matching accessories — shower curtain, wastebasket, mats, brand new towels, items for the counter and an entire shower full of high-end gels and soaps.
"I have receipts for everything. We can change anything you don't like."
"I love it! How absolutely thoughtful."
"Having a nice bathroom makes all the difference. When everything is skimpy when you start out, it just feels ... out-of-pocket. I want you to feel good in your place."
I kissed him. "Any time you are in it, I'll feel good."
"I left the kitchen alone as I didn't know what you had or what your parents might give. But we can tend to that tomorrow."
We looked around the bedroom.
"Oh, there is also ice cream in the freezer," Mike said.
"You've thought of everything."
"Let's go eat. We should celebrate."
We decided upon the college bistro for old time's sake. It certainly wasn't a celebratory fancy place, but it served as a signpost of what was and what is now. It was a lovely evening to sit outside.
—
Mike kept driving his hard cock in my ass. My arms gripped the pillow under my chest. The vanilla candle flickered our shadows on the wall. With my face turned to the side, I could watch his ass thrust as he fucked me. His dick was super slick with my new lube. I stared at our shadows on the wall, wondering how thick it was and if my new neighbors could hear us moaning for the last ten minutes.
"J.T., I love fucking you. I love fucking you in your new apartment."
"Oh yeah, Mike. Don't stop. You feel so good in me."
I was enjoying what his erection was doing to the muscles in my ass. His cock was throbbing, and my hole pulsed around his steel piston. We paused a moment and I rolled onto my back. I reached for my own erection and started yanking on it. I loved watching his rigid dick slide back into my inner realms. Looking into my eyes with such passionate love, Mike's rhythm resumed. We grunted in our sexual workout, occasionally calling out "Trent" and "Michael" between thrusting and kissing.
Mike had been fucking me for some time; I knew he had to be nearing his climax. I pulled on my long rod hoping to match him. He had worked up a sweat and a layer of moisture built on his forehead. It dripped down his nose and onto my chest. I found that insanely hot. This sexy man stared me right in the face as his breathing announced he was close.
"Come inside me," I whispered.
He rammed his crotch hard into my internal passage and left it there. His neck arched and his throat groaned one continuous growl toward the ceiling. I knew his throbbing cock was pulsing, sending streams of his cum in me. He panted loudly in his orgasm.
I stroked my cock harder.
"Keep going, Michael. Fuck me until tomorrow."
He kept pushing his spent erection in and out of my hole. It was a whimpering moan now. I jerked harder. I was close.
"Yes! Don't stop. Fuck me hard."
He was a trooper and kept pounding me, trying to keep his organ as hard as he could.
"Yes!" I screamed, probably loud enough for neighbors to hear through the wall.
I moaned as my chest soon became layered with splatters of my cum. Mike kept fucking and I kept pulling. We knew we eventually had to stop, but we kept going, only slowing gradually as we accepted our orgasms had no more to offer.
He landed on the bed at my side.
"When did you make the bed?" I asked.
"When you went back to Lance's for the last time. You will also notice I placed the one nightstand on your side so that you would be the keeper of the towel and lube."
I laughed. "I guess I should go get a towel."
"No need. There's one there. Please note that it matches those in the bathroom."
"I LOVE you, Michael Terry!" I gazed at our shadows. "The apartment has been officially christened."
—
Sunday was incredibly productive. Mike was great at helping unpack boxes and deciding where some final items should go. We took stock of what simple household things I would need and went on a shopping spree to both Target and the grocery store. I asked questions about getting a credit card. I wanted something more than just a gasoline station.
By afternoon, things were put together for the most part. Granted, boxes were stacked to the side, but the apartment was an apartment: very livable.
Sadly, it also indicated what all I lacked. I needed furniture. I wasn't ready to shell out that kind of cash, but I was going to need some kind of table, just to eat from. Mom's check would definitely come in handy.
Mike had slipped into a nap, but perhaps we could find a simple table after dinner.
June 28
Well, the goodbyes were tough. Tough! I think I broke Lance's heart.
But I have my own place. I've never really pictured that. I have thought about jobs, about coworkers, about how I would dress in the workplace ... but I never envisioned a place of my own. I'm sure I wouldn't have pictured this. It's pretty sparse, but I should be able to make do while I slowly get the things I need.
Through it all, Mike has been wonderful. Lance, too. The guys mean the world to me.
I can't stop thinking about what Dad said yesterday: "Don't give up on me." I'm not sure what that was supposed to mean, but maybe he is trying harder than I thought. I'll keep giving him time. Maybe he will accept me. But would he accept Mike? Is that a two-step process?
We didn't feel fancy after a day of housework. We simply ate at McDonald's on a close-by corner. Burgers and fries were easy.
We had done a little online research and found Target had a simple kitchen set that was affordable enough for me to get. So, it was back to Target once we threw our wrappers in the trash. At the store, we hauled our items to checkout. I would have paid with check, but Target offered a discount if I applied for a credit card.
"It would be good to start establishing some credit," Mike said. "Start easy. Don't rack up a lot of charges that you can't pay. Only buy what you can pay off each month."
"Yes, Dad," I said to him.
He slapped me on the butt.
We purchased it because it was in stock. It required a little assembly and Mike had brought tools. It wasn't too difficult. Eureka. I had a kitchen table.
Mike opened a bottle of wine we had purchased. I wasn't big on drinking, but the occasion seemed to call for it. We both had a glass. We reclined on the lone loveseat. I quickly realized I needed ottomans. Next on the list.
"You know the second key?" I asked.
"Yeah. I put it on the kitchen counter," said Mike.
"No need. That's yours."
"You don't want to keep it in case you need to invite someone over?"
"Unlikely. One bedroom. You are the only person I am sleeping with, and I don't even have as much as a futon. The key belongs to you."
He gave me a simple kiss. "Thanks, babe."
We clinked our wine glasses. "Cheers."
We were actually enjoying not doing anything. We had put in a lot of work.
"Are you staying over tonight?" I asked.
"I actually think our genitals could use a rest. Last night was awesome."
"You know, you can sleep here and we not have sex."
"Yeaaaahh, but what fun is that? That's so ... two months from now."
We both laughed.
"I'll stay until nightfall. You have an early morning anyway."
Summer was officially starting. It was the longest daylight hours of the year. The Branches had a nice pool. I wasn't sure when I would actually swim, but we decided to relax by the pool for a bit. A few people were swimming at one end, but it was fairly quiet. I hadn't noticed the hot tub when we looked at the place. We both admitted we could try that out in the future.
We were in shorts but shirtless. We both had sunglasses on and a plastic bottle of flavored water. A few people were in the pool. Two girls were talking more than swimming. One pudgy gentleman was floating in an inner tube. Splashing made one's attention be drawn to an incredibly fit man swimming back and forth. Mike and I watched him for a while.
A year ago, I probably would have been self-conscious of being shirtless with another guy in public. The ladies would look our way every now and then. With our sunglasses on, they had no idea if we were looking or not. Even though I had zero interest in them, it was slightly flattering to know they were looking at me. Well, us. Probably Mike. His chest destroys. If you like hair. I liked hair. It was so masculine. Mike was 100 percent man.
My shorts started to bulge. I had an erection. Damn. I raised one knee to help disguise it.
Another gentleman entered the pool area. Blonde. Wavy hair. His swimsuit was so skimpy it barely had threads. He walked by. The entire contour of his cock was outlined. It was broadcast. It was a thick cock, probably about four inches contained within the confining suit. The girls glanced but seemed turned off.
"Slut," I whispered once he passed.
Mike raised one of his knees.
—
It was approaching 9 p.m. The sun had set, but the sky was still bright with gold and purple.
My phone rang.
"Hello?"
Mike looked at me as my body language shifted.
"Yes, this is he?"
After a moment, I motioned to Mike to pull out his phone.
"What's the name again? Okay." I looked at Mike. "Type Desperado and 72nd into your phone."
Mike fumbled to find an app. He typed it in.
"Thanks, I'm on my way."
Mike looked totally confused. "What was that?"
I sighed.
"Lance is in a bar called Desperado on ... what was it? ... 72nd? They won't let him drive. They asked if someone could pick him up and take him home. He gave them my name and used his phone to get the number out of his contacts."
"Good God," Mike said, half in concern, half in disgust.
"Will you come with me so we can bring his car back?"
"Yes, of course."
As we drove to the bar, both of us said we had never heard of it. It was not a gay bar; we weren't sure of what it was like.
"I hate to say this, but Lance's drama is getting a little old," Mike said. "He's not getting better. He's either going to get his act together, or he is going to kill himself."
When we got to the bar, we both thought it was odd. It smelled of popcorn, but the décor was mostly neon beer logos and hubcaps. It was more on the edge of town, perhaps getting the trucker crowd. It was Sunday evening, so it was not crowded. There were a few people there. Half of them had bandanas wrapped around their heads; a few had denim shirts with sleeves cut off. It was definitely not a place Mike and I would find ourselves in.
"Are one of you Trent?" the bartender asked.
I nodded. He pointed to a booth in the corner. I saw Lance sitting there. The bartender held up his keys.
"I made him give `em to me. Here's his phone too. He came in a couple hours ago. I didn't know he had some beers before coming in. After I gave him a few more, I knew he couldn't drive."
"Do we need to settle his tab?" Mike asked.
"Twelve bucks," the man said.
Mike flipped him a twenty. "Thanks for the call."
I walked over to Lance. He knew I was there but didn't look at me.
"Hey buddy, let's get you home, okay?"
"Don't look at me."
"C'mon, I'm taking you home. Mike will take your car home."
We slowly got Lance to my car. Mike drove off in Lance's.
"How did you find that place?" I said, once out on the road.
"I dunno. I was just out driving to ... drivin'..."
"Driving where?"
"Uhhh... around? I dunno. I saw it and thought a drink sounded good."
"This is it, Lance. This is the last time I'm your call. I'm done with the whole drinking thing. You've become a drunk."
"I'm not a drunk! Okay, I am a little right now, but I'm not a drunk."
He put his head against the side of the car window and stopped talking. He mumbled, but I couldn't make it out.
Back at his apartment, Mike and I got him into his bedroom. The first thing I did was set his alarm so he wouldn't miss work. I pulled his shirt off and pushed him into the bed. Mike watched me take his shoes off. I felt like a mother.
"Please stop doing this, buddy. Please stop. It's got to stop!"
"Lance, we care about you, but you are letting the whole drinking thing impact way too many parts of your life," Mike said. "At some point, you will push everyone away."
"I'm alone anyway!!" he shouted. "Trent left me. He doesn't want me. No one wants me. He wants you. YOU!! I don't have anybody. I'm shit."
"You're not shit. You have friends. Remember all your teammates? They're your friends."
"They're gone. They all left. No one is left. None of them told the coach about Rich giving you problems in the locker room. I did! But you don't want me. You were the last one to leave. No one wants me. I have this huuuuge dick, and no one wants it. I'm just ... nobody wants me ... just leave me alone. Go ahead and leave. I'm just shit. Leave me behind!"
"You told the coach?"
"Yeah. Not that you care."
I kissed him on the forehead. "I'll call you tomorrow, buddy. I love you."
"No, you don't! You love HIM! Just go back with HIM! I'll just stay here by myself."
"That's the beer talking," I softly said as I reached for the doorknob.
Outside, I hugged Mike deeply. I could barely catch my breath. My heart was pounding. "I'm so scared, Mike. I don't know what to do. He's wrecking his life."
"I know. Don't let him drag you down. Only Lance can change what's going on."
We didn't say much as we drove back. Mike held my hand; he knew I was scared.
"I don't know what to do," I said as we stood in the driveway.
"You can be his friend. We both can. We can love him. But we can't make his decisions. Only he can."
He hugged me. I was afraid to let go of him. If any of my new apartment neighbors had seen us, they would have felt it was an oddly long hug. But I need it.
Mike kissed me goodbye and walked to his car. I turned to walk into my new apartment. My new half-empty, Lance-less apartment. As excited as I was to now be on my own, I suddenly just felt alone.
June 28 – B
Holy fuck! I've now reached the point to where I'm scared to death that every time I see Lance, it could be the last time. He just might do something stupid or reckless or dangerous. I want him to stop drinking so badly, but I can't make that happen.
* * * *
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