by Ashley Love
“What?” Lex shouts over him, sitting up suddenly, gripping the arms of his chair. “I can’t even take a piss in here already without somebody watching over my shoulder! Now these motherfuckers wanna supervise me? What the fuck does that even mean?”
Alan’s legs fall uncrossed as he sits forward and slaps the folder back into his desk, his eyes hardening in an instant, in a familiar way that Lex knows. “You know, I wish you’d learn some respect and watch your mouth a little.”
Lex chuckles half-heartedly at Alan having the nerve to come at him this way, but there's a nervousness in it, a slight shock that this guy might not be exactly what he’d pegged him as. “Excuse me?”
“You won’t get anywhere around here talking like that…to me, or anyone else.” His eyes hold Lex’s, unaffected, unafraid. “In the real world you have to give respect to get it. You’re not entitled in here, or anywhere else that actually matters. Where you come from is a different story, but it doesn’t work like that here.”
“You don’t know shit about where I come from,” Lex mutters lowly, the fortress around his feelings being shaken at an alarming volume, that familiar fire building in his gut, the fear buried deep and covered in the rage that makes him want to fight.
“I think I know more than you want me to…and that scares the hell outta you.”
It creeps up and chokes Lex, pulling his chest tight and boiling his blood in a way that he’s never felt. His voice shakes just slightly. “I ain’t scared of nothing, you got that?”
“You’re scared of yourself. That’s what you’re running from, Lex. And the sooner you realize that the better off we’ll all be.” In an instant the fire dies from Alan’s eyes and he’s all business again, reopening the folder to read down the list of comments on the report. “They’re also talking about possibly revoking visitations…”
“Come on, man.” The sudden drain of emotion makes Lex’s feel lightheaded, and he collapses back with a sigh, letting his head loll back heavy. “If they’re gonna supervise me then at least give me my visitations. They can sit in the room for all I care, I just…I need somebody here besides these crazy people.” He shakes his head, staring at the ceiling until Alan replies.
“Is she coming tomorrow?”
“What?” Lex's head snaps up, and Alan’s knowing look makes him change his game up quickly, asking innocently, “Who?”
“That’s what I’m starting to wonder.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at exactly…but don’t go run and get any ideas about my personal business, you hear me?”
“Well it’s not like anybody else has been knocking down your door around here.”
“If you wanna ask me something, Alan, just fucking ask me.”
“Lex…” Alan sighs exhaustedly and Lex mutters a forced apology before he continues, “I won’t force you to talk about it. But there’s some red flags here.”
“Okay…” Lex replies cautiously, nerves starting to get the best of him.
“Kristen came to me and she’s concerned about your workbook journals from your relationships group.”
“What does that mean?”
Alan opens a separate folder and pulls out a few loose sheets of paper littered with Lex’s scribble. “Who is…Leala?”
Lex feels the tightness in his chest again. “She’s…my girl.” He shifts uncomfortably but tries to keep his composure.
“Your girlfriend?” Alan corrects him.
“No,” he says quickly, nervously, and Alan scribbles down notes, making him more nervous. He continues, in an attempt to recover and maybe part of him feels sort of bad that he dismissed it so quickly. “Not exactly. We’re different,” he explains for what feels like the hundredth time. He can’t help but feel judged now every time he says it.
Alan looks up from his notes. “Different how?”
“We never…I mean, we don’t…call it that, I guess. We don’t really call it anything.”
“But she behaves like your girlfriend?”
Lex’s face feels hot and he takes a deep breath, continuing to stammer through Alan’s questions. “I don’t know…she’s like…my sister, my girlfriend, my mother…she’s my girl.”
Alan waits a beat before asking, “Did you have a sexual relationship with her?”
“Well now it sounds weird that I said she’s like my mother and I used to have sex with her. But yeah, we slept together.”
“But she’s not your girlfriend?”
Lex’s voice raises slightly. “Look…I just explained this to you—”
“I’m not trying to push you, Lex, I’m just trying to understand,” Alan says over him and Lex calms again, running a hand over his face.
“I know,” he sighs.
Alan gives him a minute before going further. “How long were you with her?”
“I met her...” He stops to think. “Five years ago. We still talk.”
“So that’s her that comes to see you.” It’s almost as much a conclusion as a question, only the cautious undertone of Alan’s voice giving it a lilt of asking.
“Yeah…”
“Were you exclusively seeing her?”
“You mean did I sleep around?”
He chuckles lowly at Lex’s bluntness. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean.”
“No. I never cheated on her.”
This makes Alan’s brows raise slightly. “I notice you used the word cheated. So there was a binding aspect to your relationship…you were faithful…you felt like being with another woman would be betrayal?”
“Yeah. I told you, I guess she was like my girlfriend…but she was more. She was…everything.”
“She satisfied all of the female roles in your life?”
“Yeah. That’s a good way to put it.”
Alan takes a moment to look at Lex while still avoiding looking like he’s sizing him up. He knows that challenging Lex only makes him clam up, but there’s something interesting about Lex’s approach to this relationship that isn’t sitting with him right just yet. “Was your mother around when you were a kid, Lex?”
The question makes Lex defensive, and disgusted more than that. “Look, don’t go off on some soul search that I’m on a quest for a mother figure in my life, okay? My mom was around.” He rolls his eyes, sinking back in his chair, but he won’t look Alan in the face for fear of impending questions he can feel coming.
“Did she love you?” It’s a simple question, but something tells Alan that after a little coaxing he might get the answer he’s looking for, what he suspects is the real answer.
Lex scoffs. “What kinda question is that? She was my mother.”
“Lex…did she love you?”
“Yeah!” he answer moodily, glaring across the desk. “I mean…I guess, you know. She was my mom and shit.”
Lex shrugs and Alan doesn’t miss his guard coming down. He’s dealt with Lex enough at this point to begin to see the ebb and flow of his emotion, and when he retracts like this he knows its his best chance at charging forward. It might be ugly, but it’s moments like this that get the truth out of Lex, directly or hidden in his anger.
“What makes you question it?”
Lex shifts uncomfortably, feeling cornered for a moment. “I don’t know, I just…” He takes a moment to collect himself, the hurt welling inside making his voice harden as he snaps back, “I mean she let my fucking dad beat on me all the time, you know? How do you say you love your kid and let somebody hurt them like that?”
Alan waits to let it sink in. He doesn’t want to press on too quickly and not allow Lex to deal with what he’s just expressed, to allow him to say the words without hearing them. Only when he’s calmed significantly does he continue.
“So when you think of love you think of…protection?”
“Sure.”
“Do you love Leala?”
“I mean, we don’t really say it…” It’s a lie as soon as it l
eaves his mouth, and he trails slightly as his chest tightens, choosing not to explain further, hoping his silence will take the edge off.
“Does she protect you? Does she offer you that feeling of safety that you associate with love?”
“Well…yeah, when you put it that way,” he mutters, feeling discomfort and relief simultaneously at the admission. “I mean, she would never let anything bad happen to me…ever.” His tone is more convincing now and Alan nods, piecing things slowly together.
“I get that, I do. But I just can’t help but wonder…” he trails, wondering if he should be so bold to give Lex his straight interpretation of the situation. “I know exactly how situations like this work, don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen it a million times. I know how girls like her are, especially if she used with you…especially if you had a sexual relationship, if she was emotionally involved…”
Alan stops again, wanting this to come out just right, searching for the right mix of concern and truth, trying at all lengths to keep Lex from shutting down again.
“I think she’s protecting you almost to a level of harm. I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense coming straight out like that, but you have to realize what you’ve been doing to yourself, and even to her, and how much she’s let you get away with…how much heat she’s taken for you…how much she's agreed with you and suffered in silence so you could get your way. And look where you are now.”
Alan backs off a second time to let Lex react, but much to his surprise…he doesn’t. He does something he never would’ve seen coming at this point, something he never thought Lex would feel until much later, being the obstinate guy that he is. Lex hangs his head almost in shame, and when Alan sees his wall come down, he drives it home.
“I just need you to really be honest with yourself here, Lex…are you really learning your lessons or is she saving you?”
11
“Aimee’s married now.”
I watch Lex walk the perimeter of the graveled ground where we always sit, on these same picnic table seats, one foot stepping in front of the other on the wooden beam border, much like a child walks the edge of a concrete curb. The sky is a lazy gray today, which is sort of a comfort to my fuzzy head, the result of champagne after going so long without drinking. We’ve both been peculiarly quiet since I arrived at noon. I think he sensed my foul mood earlier and has been treading lightly. I just keep thinking about yesterday. About the wedding. About the baby.
“No shit? Damn, I guess that did sneak up, huh?” He puts a lit cigarette between his lips and watches his feet. His head is covered by a charcoal beanie.
I stare at the wooden table glumly, my feet still aching from my bridesmaids heels, tucked away now in soft winter boots. “Yeah, how do you think I felt?” I’m sure thinking about other people isn’t a habit he’s ever harbored. I wonder if that’s changed, if it’s begun to change yet since he’s been here. I wonder if anything has changed.
“How was it? I mean, was it that big thing like you see on TV…white horses and carriages and shit?” He laughs, hopping down into the gravel and I give him a look but can’t help but smile.
“No. It was at the country club.” At this, he rolls his eyes. “It was nice, half indoor, half out, not too big, not too small”
“So, perfect, in other words?”
“Nothing’s perfect.”
“No shit, and the sooner people start realizing that the better everything will be,” he says, sort of bitterly, and it rubs me the wrong way. As if everyone’s had this expectation of perfection from him? What the fuck does he know about that? “Were you bored out of your mind?” he asks before I can vocalize any of this.
“I dunno,” is all I offer. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. I think about the voicemail that was waiting for me after the reception.
“You don’t know?” he says, seeming somewhere off in the distance.
Seth’s dead… I listened to it three times to make sure.
I look at him and he’s still looking at me, curiously, expectantly.
I just shrug.
He turns his back and lights another cigarette, shaking his head. We don’t say anything for a long time and he walks in a small circle, scuffing his feet against the rocks.
“How was your birthday?” He’d turned 26 four days before Aimee’s wedding. I’d called to tell him happy birthday since there wasn’t much else I could do, but he was in meetings or sessions or somewhere and I’d had to leave a message. I’d been wrapped up pre-wedding chaos and he, well, he was here.
“It was alright. They bought these cupcakes or whatever, I didn’t eat any.” He shrugs, but the visual of him being presented with a box of sprinkled cupcakes is sort of amusing. “I got your message.”
“Yeah, I figured you might at least call back.”
“The last few days have just been kinda…draining.” I wonder if he’s gotten the new also. And then, “Kyle called too.”
“Have…have you talked to him since?”
“Nah.” He shrugs, and then as if he didn’t catch the hesitation in my voice until a second later, he asks, “Why?”
“You don’t…Lex, I…fuck, I guess I’m gonna have to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Sit down.”
“Tell me what?”
“Lex, please just sit down.” My head falls into my hands and my voice isn’t as steady as I would like. I’ve never had to deliver news like this to him and I don’t know how he’ll react, how he manages things like this, if he’s ever had to.
“Just fucking tell me!”
“I…I don’t know how to say it…”
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ.” He sighs, starting to sit next to me impatiently, his back pressed to the table where my elbows rest.
“Seth’s dead!” I shout before he’s fully settled and he tenses visibly, his head whipping to look at me but I can’t look at him. I just stare at the table. “He died, okay? He's…he’s dead.”
“You don’t fucking know that,” he says after a minute, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Kyle called me and—”
“No! You don’t fucking know.” He stands suddenly, angry. “Why didn’t…he would’ve called me. Kyle…he would’ve told me.” He rubs a nervous hand over his head, looking anywhere and nowhere.
“He’s dead, Lex.”
“How?” he asks as if he’s calling my bluff, as if I wouldn’t know, as if I would have to make something up and he could tell it was a lie.
“Overdose.”
“Bullshit.” He turns away, then back again, angrier, not knowing what to do. I want to cry. “He wouldn’t die from that shit, I’ve seen him shoot it up a hundred times.”
“It only takes once, and you know that.” I’m still staring at the table, trying not to lose it.
“He’s not stupid enough to do too much!”
“He didn’t have to be!” I shout finally, ripping my hands away, looking at him. “Lex, I don’t know when you’re gonna get that. I don’t know when you’re gonna get that it could’ve been me…it could’ve been you.” We stare at each other and breathe. “It could’ve been you,” I say again more forcefully and he turns his back. I can see him run a hand over his face and shove it in his pocket, along with his other, and when he hangs his head something pulls me to him, making me stand, coming up behind him. I press my hands to his back, feel it expand as he breathes before sliding them around to his shoulders, stepping up closer.
“What if it was me?”
“Lex, don’t,” I say before he can continue, my eyes starting to water. I press my forehead between his shoulder blades, my hands gripping his shoulders tighter, keeping me steady. “It’s not gonna be you.” It’s forceful, and I mean it and I believe it and I want him to believe it, too. My hands slide toward each other across his chest, my arms circling him from behind, hugging him, pressing my front to his back. I rest my chin on his shoulder close
to his neck and my voice is muffled in the hood of his sweatshirt. “You know that’s why you’re here, right? So it won’t be you.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time and I watch him from the side, studying his profile, watching his lips twitch occasionally and seeing the muscle of his jaw tighten, his throat slide up and down when he swallows. The sky has brightened to a yellow-gray, the sun sliding thinly through clouds as it might through blinds in the early morning. He takes a deep breath and exhales and I lay my cheek against his shoulder, my nose nuzzling the back of his neck.
And then I feel his hand reach up, sliding over mine that’s pressed against his chest, and his fingers thread between mine, keeping it there.
12
Lex later ambles lazily along a dirt trail lined with barren trees, their leaves stripped from the cold. The daylight finally is descending toward some distant line, all of its rays pulled to a point half-hidden on the horizon, streaking the sky with orange that fades up to dark blue as the night sky presses down, closing off the day. Cigarette smoke curls around his head and he thinks: thinks about why he’s here, thinks about why Seth isn’t, wonders where they each went wrong and right.
He’s never been affected by death, never faced the reality of it, has stared into its face and laughed his entire life. Now it’s real. He sits on an abandoned bench, the farthest he’s ventured away from the center since he arrived here. It looks far away from where he is. Ash tumbles onto the toe of his sneaker and he reaches down to wipe it away, frowning at the gray smudge it leaves on the white leather. Someone he knows is dead—now, someone he used to know.
“What’s her name?”
Mike’s voice makes him jump, his head snapping up to look at the older man. He hadn’t even heard his footsteps coming close.
“Huh?”
“What’s her name?” Mike asks again, hands shoved deep in his pockets as the cold descends on them, the sun fading more and more.
Lex bristles slightly, protectively, assuming he had been spying earlier. “It’s none of your fucking business.”