Page 23 of No Rhyme or Riesling

Adam sniffed and wiped his eyes again. “That's how you feel about wine, isn't it?”

John nodded again. “Go on.”

Adam swallowed hard. “When I got home from the hospital that night–”And you were gone, Adam thought, but he didn't say it, because it had already been said enough since they'd reconnected. “I found myself staring at his easy chair. And the little table beside it, where his glass always sat. But there was no glass there. And I kept waiting. And waiting. Because he was supposed to walk in there, pour a glass, put on a record, and sit down, just like he always did. So finally I poured a glass myself and then just stared at it. Like it might…I don't know…somehow bring him back.”

John gave him a little squeeze.

A few fresh tears ran down Adam's cheeks as he continued. “So I drank it myself. Just to hold on to some connection to him, I guess? Or to see if it would soothe me the way he said it did for him? I have no idea.” He couldn't stop a little laugh that burst out of him. “What I do know is that Ihatedit. The burn was intense, and the taste was absolutely awful.” Adam paused. “But then I started feeling it. I hadn't eaten a damned thing all day, so it went straight to my head.” He paused again, then whispered, “And it felt good.”

John slowly nodded. “It kept the emotions dammed up. Or…smothered. Less intense, at least.”

“Yeah,” Adam mumbled.

John was silent for a long moment before he asked, “How'd you ultimately stop?”

Adam winced. “It took a long time. I never really dranka lot. Usually, it was just the one glass every night, to keep up Dad's ritual. It kind of became an obsession after a while. Like if I went to bed and had forgotten that drink, I'd get back up to have it. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise. But sometimes, when things got harder, I would drink more. Especially after Trevor got us fake IDs when we went on the road. And then I'd be like…”

“Like today,” John finished for him.

“Yeah. But worse. The more the band walked on eggshells around me, the more I wanted to drink. It was like, the harder they tried to avoid the topic of my dad, especially around the first anniversary of his death, the more obvious it was. So I had to drink just to escape it.” Adam breathed a humorless laugh. “We got kicked out of our last gig in San Francisco because I was being obnoxious, so the next day in the van, things were really tense. The band was pissed at me, and I was pissed at them. So when we got here—Paso, I mean—that was part of why I stayed.I couldn't keep going with them.” Adam paused. “Once I was on my own, I slipped back into the habit of just one drink a night. But then one night, it hit me. I'd get home from work, walk in the door, and before I did anything else, I'd be heading straight for that bottle. It was like I was in a hurry to get home each night just so I could have that one drink. I realized it had become a habit. Like muscle memory. It was simply the thing I did the moment I got home, and I knew how easy it would be to let that spiral out of control.” Adam shrugged weakly. “So I stopped.”

John's eyebrows went up. “Just like that?”

Adam nodded. “I dumped out the rest of the bottle and never bought another one.” He sniffed and shook his head. “It wasn't easy. Every damned time I went to the grocery store or passed a liquor store on my way home, it took everything I had not to buy another one. But then I met Haven at a trans therapy group, and we hit it off, and he was struggling financially, so I suggested we get a place together so he'd only have to pay half the rent. And since he didn't drink and couldn't afford it anyway, it made it easier for me to resist.”

John smiled and hugged Adam to his side, giving him a squeeze. “You're such a good boy, you know that? Thinking of your friends.”

Adam winced and looked down, wringing the handkerchief in his hands. “Not today. I was an ass today, wasn't I?”

John was silent, but Adam didn't need him to respond. After a long moment, John said, “I'm sure the coffee is cold by now. Why don't you take a shower while I go reheat it for you?”

Adam felt a wave of relief crash through him, almost making him dizzy. John had framed it as a question, but his tone made it sound like an order, which was exactly what Adam needed. He was too tired and worn out to even think straight, but John had taken all the choices right out of his hands, leaving him with just one thing on which to focus. Adam gave John a nod in response,then got up on shaky legs with John's help. Once he was upright, it took him several long moments to finally set down the urn and take a step back.

John went to Adam's dresser and searched the drawers, piling a t-shirt, pajama shorts, and underwear in the crook of his arm. The man even grabbed a chest binder and added it to the stack.

Adam's stomach lurched sickeningly. He hated to see John handle that particular garment. But he was also grateful. There was no way his fragile state could handle going without his chest being thoroughly strapped down.

Then again, maybe he deserved to feel that pain, too.

John nudged Adam into the bathroom and pulled the door shut between them.

Adam braced his hands on the edge of the sink, then quickly pushed away so he wouldn't catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. He was sure he looked like shit after so much crying. Keeping his gaze focused on the wall, Adam stripped out of his clothes, left them in a heap on the floor, and stepped into the shower.

As much as he wanted to stay tucked away in that small space, hidden away from the world, Adam didn't let himself linger, knowing John was waiting for him. He washed his hair, then soaped up a washcloth, going through the motions of running it all over his body. Adam winced when the cloth brushed his chest. He tried to avoid the area, but when he scrubbed around his neck and the cloth brushed him again, his stomach lurched violently, forcing Adam to his knees.

A rapid knock sounded on the door, followed by the faintsqueakof it opening. “Adam?” John called.

“I'm o–” Adam tried to respond, but the words cut off as his stomach heaved again.

“Baby?” John asked, his voice closer now.

Adam saw the shower curtain twitch in his peripheral vision. “Don't!” he screamed, slamming his arms across his chest. “I'm fine–” He retched again, his stomach bringing up nothing but bile.

After a long, tense moment, he heard John ask, “Adam?”

Adam's chest heaved as he waited, but nothing more came up. He sat back on his heels, still hugging himself as he tipped his head up towards the shower spray to rinse the bile off his chin. “I'm okay,” he finally managed to get out.

“You sure?” John asked.

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