Page 40 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

He laughs, reclining back in the chair and staring at me in disbelief. “All of this,” he gestures between us, “was because of Phoenix… God, I’m stupid.”

My heart rate keeps rising, and my body is not cooperating because the sedation meds haven’t worn off yet. “You got more out of our arrangement than I did—byfar. By fuckingfar.Grow the hell up.”

“Arrangement?” he says through a dramatic gasp. “That’s what this is?”

“What else would it be? I told you at least three different times all I’m good for is sex.”

He scoffs. “And emotional manipulation, you fucking asshole.”

On the last syllable, the nurse appears. She looks between us, sensing the hostility and no doubt overhearing the last sentence or three. “Sir, I need to ask you to step out momentarily. We need to ask some personal questions.”

Leon’s lip curls before he shoots to his feet and storms out. Good. I’m sick of him. My nurse watches him leave, and then she steps over. Lowering her voice, her eyes sympathetic, she says, “Your friend is in the lobby.”

“He is?”

“Yes. I need to ask you a few questions, and then I can get him.”

“Okay.”

She goes through a list of bullshit.Do you feel safe at home? Is anyone hurting you? Have you ever wanted to hurt yourself? Are you doing drugs?I answer no to all of them while subtly hiding my tattooed arms lined with old scars. My piss is going to come up dirty, just like it did at urgent care, but I am not staying here. I’ll wait for a prescription, and then I’ll be gone.

“I’ll go get your friend. The doctor should be in to speak with you about your results soon.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “Where is my cell phone?”

She retrieves a plastic bag with my gross clothes and cell phone.

I wait for her to leave before checking my messages.

Tracy: I need more than that. What plumber is going to come out for 150$?

Elijah, I swear to god.

I am not dealing with that, no thanks. I swipe out of her text thread and find Leon’s.

I’ll get my stuff from the hotel when I’m discharged.

For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

We’re done.

I sit my phone down on my lap and rub my eyes.

Fuck, I’m so tired.

Yawning a few times and trying to stay awake, I can’t help but feel slightly relieved. I didn’t anticipate it going this far when I called Phoenix earlier. He didn’t call anyone last time this happened—hell, he left me on the damn bathroom floor. But he made sure I was safe. And whether he meant to or not, he gave me the courage to send those texts.

Maybe he’s finally coming around. Maybe this is him fighting for me. A dopey smile forms on my lips. He didn’t leave me.

I sniffle and rub my nose, something like delirious hope filling me. It’s my fault we are in the position we’re in—separate and estranged—but people can realize they made a mistake, can’t they? Once I got slapped with a DUI and a suspended license, I convinced myself that he was better off.

But then his band put out that song.

It’s been a fucked up journey to get here. I’ve done terrible things to make sure I could get back in his presence, even if I didn’t quite know that’s what I was doing until it all happened.

I change my mind, Phoenix.

I want him again. I want a life—a real life with people and happiness. I want my aunt to get out of my house and die in a ditch. For the first time, I can see something out there for me. Something obtainable.

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