Page 80 of Two For the Show
Alex takes his cheek in her hand. “Wow, that’s incredible. One conversation and you got sober? I’m impressed.”
He snorts. “Oh, no. I caved like a week later and got so fucking drunk that I missed a show. Rex stepped in for me, and after that, he slapped some sense into me. He said if I wanted to kill myself, he knew better ways to do it, and otherwise, I needed to get my shit together because the entire circus was depending on me. They all had nowhere else to go and needed me to keep the show running so they weren’t out on their asses.”
It’s hard to imagine Rex, the leggy contortionist, pushing Jude around. But I’m glad he did. I don’t know how the rest of us didn’t notice him deteriorating.
“He kept me accountable. It’s been six years now, and I know I’ll always be an alcoholic, but I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of what I built here.”
“We’re proud of you, too,” Quinton says, startling me. I didn’t know he’d gotten out of the shower.
Dario nods solemnly as he looks up from the puzzle. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, but I’m glad you did it.”
“I never much liked drinking anyway,” Alex says casually. “It’s no big deal for me to give it up.”
Jude looks at her, stricken. “You don’t need to give it up for me.”
“I know.” She stands up and crosses to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a half-full bottle of wine. She raises her eyebrow at Dexter, and he nods. Our Omega unscrews the top and pours it down the sink.
I toss the potatoes into the boiling water on the stove and rest my back against the counter. “Jude, we’re a pack. What’s good for one of us is good for all of us.”
After a beat, Dexter bursts out laughing in such an uncharacteristic way that all of our eyes land on him. After he calms down, he shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. I never realized I wasn’t the only fucked up one. That’s on me. I had my eyes closed to everything around me.”
“Were you under the impression that we were all normal people?” Quinton says with a snort. “Normal people don’t join the circus and get knives thrown at them, dude. Matteo is the only one who’s not got a ton of baggage, and even he has some.”
Alex heads back to the couch and sits down next to Jude. “What’s your baggage, Matteo? We may as well get it all out in the open.”
“My girlfriend died. Her name was Paula.”
The grief isn’t fresh anymore, but I still miss her. She was my friend first and foremost, and it sucks that she never got to meet Quinton or Alex.
“It wasn’t serious, romantically, I mean. We both knew it wasn’t forever. But she never had her chance to find that forever, and I did.” I didn’t realize how much guilt I was retaining from that. “I wasn’t with anyone else until I met Quinton. She was my friend, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I stole happiness from her by being with her. I was miserable, unable to move on.”
Quinton wraps his arm around my waist and rests his head on mine. “She’d be so happy for you, Teo.”
“Oh, I know. Jealous, too.” My heart lightens a little as I unburden myself. “I think a lot of what made me miserable is that I wasn’t more upset over her passing. I was upset, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t the devastation you feel from losing a lover. I lost my friend. I’m not diminishing the grief of that, but it’s a different kind, you know?”
Jude hums and nods his head in agreement. Alex smiles at me encouragingly as she climbs onto the big guy’s lap.
“Tell me more about your friend,” she says softly, resting her head on Jude’s chest.
So I do.
I tell all of them about Paula. About her infectious personality, the way she could beat anyone at a game of poker. I tell them about how she convinced me to go skydiving, and left me behind when I couldn’t jump. I stayed on the plane as we landed, freaking out with worry that she didn’t make it.
Of course, she was laughing at me and never let me live it down that I didn’t jump with her.
As I finish making dinner, we all start to share our traumas.
Dario tells us about a fire he took part in, and Dexter shares stories about their dad.
Quinton talks about dealing with the depression that preceded his Rot and his theory that they were connected.
And Alex shares more stories about her pack before us. About the time they stomped on her and broke her collarbone, and she lied to her colleagues in the ER that she had gotten in a car wreck.
We grow closer as we eat together and open up our hearts to one another. When the topics lighten and ourdark stories turn humorous, a feeling of pure contentment hits me straight in the chest.
It’s not mine, though I’m feeling the same.
My Omega is happy. More than happy.
