Page 59 of Strange Lad

“Huh?”

“The soup. You’re making soup.”

Shit. “So? I can cook sometimes.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, clearly impatient. “Where did you get that recipe?”

I don’t know what kind of soup Oli was making. I can’t smell anything, either, so I can’t lie. My cheeks heat as sweat pools in my crevices. Wetting my dry lips, I milk my sickness and make my eyes cross-eyed.

“The internet,” I lie. “Or Sonia.”

Phoenix studies mehard.Too hard.

After long seconds of him burning holes into my forehead, he faces Eli. “Oli makes that soup whenever anyone is sick. He’s been making it since he was thirteen.” He looks at me again, and I shrivel into a puddle of backstabbing Jorge goo. “Are you talking to Oli?” he asks me.

“Huh?” I force a cough, and damn, does it hurt.

“Why would he be talking to Oli?” Eli asks, confused.

“I don’t know. Why would you be?”

I’m going to expire. This is the end. Jesus, come and get me. “I’m not talking to him. I haven’t talked to him since like four Christmases ago.” Which is an exaggeration.

“Only Oli makes chicken noodle soup with brown riceandtiny star pasta, Jorge. Seriously. And the rosemary in there?”

The walls in my house are super thin—so unbelievably thin that when Eli was here after potentially trying to kill himself and Phoenix came to save the day, I heard every word of their little lovefest. It both made me incredibly sad and super happy. I hugged them and cried. Which means Oli can hear this. He can hear me lying through my teeth and trying not to die.

“Okay,fine,” I blurt. “Fine.” Eli’s eyes round, then narrow into slits. He’s got serious black cat energy. I hate it. “I saw himearlier at the store, and he asked if I was okay. I said I was dying, and he told me to make that soup.”

I’m going to projectile vomit. It’s coming up my throat like a raging current. Phoenix’s eyes soften, something passing through his features like he could believe Oli would be helpful like that—which he is—and then nods.

“I’m not upset,” he clarifies for me. “And you’re sick, so that explains why you didn’t rush to tell me you saw him. But you don’t have to lie about it, Jorge. It’s okay if you run into my brother. We live in the same fucking town.” He pauses and then smiles. “You did a good job with the recipe, though. Tastes exactly like how he makes it.” And then he plops down next to me, pats my wrapped up legs, and grabs the remote. “I’ll have some too. I miss his Get Better soup. Do you want to try it, sweetheart?”

“Um, sure.”

Phoenix pulls Eli into his lap, and I groan.

Hours.

Oli was right.

Poor baby.

I feel better after having soup and more fluids, but I haven’t had a single opportunity to sneak into my bedroom. God, what if he’s had to pee this whole time? I need to get Phoenix out of my house. All he’s been doing is going over everything he and Eli have been up to. I mean,great, good for them, butjust leave!

“We have been talking to a rescue,” Eli says to me, and I have to feign interest. “They have a lot of Great Dane surrenders. Ithink once I sell my house, it’ll be a good time to do it. And Damien has agreed to help us find a place.”

I nod along while Phoenix touches him all over. His neck, his sides, his hands and arms. The guy is sick with love. “How’s the therapy been?” I ask instead.

Eli sighs. “It’s helping, but not always. I…uh…I.” He stops talking and peeks over his shoulder at Phoenix.

“It’s okay,” Phoenix whispers. “He’s your friend too.”

Nodding stiffly, Eli cracks his knuckles and meets my eyes. “I still want to use. It’s pretty constant. But I’ve been working on expressing that instead of keeping it in.”

“And you’re doing amazing.” Phoenix kisses his cheeks.

“Having a good support system helps,” I add, sipping my third cup of spearmint tea.

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