Page 112 of Strange Lad

“It’s not worth it.”

“I have been weak for so long, Jorge. I’ve been shackled to my trauma without any hope. I need to do this—need to make him suffer like I have.”

“But—”

His index finger presses into my lips. “I’ll be okay.”

I want to throw my body on the floor and throw a tantrum. “So, it’s settled then. You guys game?” Phoenix asks.

“Fucking traitors, the lot of you,” I hiss.

Michael looks unwell, but he mumbles an agreement along with the other two fucking lunatics. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Like, not even for a split second. One wrong move, one step too close, and I’ll be there.”

Oli kisses me gently, silencing me once more.

Oli

The Fight Within

Jorge will not let go of my hand; he’s cried three times on the way here and will not stop begging me to change my mind. Kelly secured the little microphone pinned underneath my shirt like some spy, and I’ve connected it to the app on my phone. I’ll press record before I go inside the bar. My nerves are jacked through the roof, I feel like I have to piss, and my bravery is faltering with every turn of the car tires.

“Please,” he begs again.

“I need to do this.”

I glance in the rearview mirror, seeing Phoenix’s car behind me; Kelly and Michael are riding in Devon’s truck. “What are you worried about?” I ask.

Jorge wiggles in the passenger seat, gripping his vape in his other hand. His big brown eyes flutter as he sucks in a shaky breath. “When he showed up at your work, you…you wanted to use, Oli. You haven’t openly admitted to wanting that in so long. I had to talk you over the edge. What if I can’t this time?”

Ah.

So he’s worried I’ll relapse.

Admittedly, so am I. The cravings are there, the desire to numb myself stronger than ever, but I know it won’t solve a damn thing. The fact I’m doing this at a bar, of all places, is a recipe for disaster, given my state of mind. I could very well go get a drink instead of confronting Morgan. Honestly, that sounds way more appealing.

“It’s not your job to keep me sober, Jorge.”

“Then what is my job, then? Huh? Our entire relationship started because I helped yougetsober. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing since? Keeping you so? Being your support system?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it.” I take a breath and stop at a red light. Facing him, I come right out with it. “Being an addict means I might relapse. Just because Ihaven’tdoesn’t mean Iwon’t. I don’t plan on it; I’m doing everything in my power to make sure I stay clean. But fooling yourself into believing I’m cured of addiction is the wrong way to look at it, baby. I’m going to fuck up at some point. I guess…if you have one job at all, it’s not to hold it against me.”

“But…”

“Being with you gives me strength, that is true. You’ve shown me so many things I’ve missed because I was too high to care or too numb to feel. And I love you for it. I really do.”

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” I agree, pressing on the gas when the light changes. “So look at it that way, alright? You don’t need to fix me. The only thing I ask is that youstaywith me. I think I’ll be okay as long as I have that.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

I bring our conjoined hands to my lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “This is going to work, Jorge. I feel it.”

He doesn’t seem convinced but leans across the center console to kiss my cheek.

Despite Jorge’s protests and sad puppy eyes, I go in first. If Morgan sees him, it’ll ruin everything.

The bar is loud, and the smell of grease permeates the air. I didn’t think Morgan would go to a place like this, but whatever. Michael casually asked him what his plans were tonight, so that’s how we knew where to go. There’s a small dance floor, loud country music playing, and girls drunkenly line-dance on it. Using my height to my advantage, I peer over people’s heads, looking for Morgan.

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