Who I Used to Be

by Alexa Land

  “Yeah, that was a close call. So, how do you feel about having Christmas dinner with Trevor and his in-laws, instead of sticking with your Chinese food tradition?”

  “The retrial is next Friday,” I said. “I’m thinking positive and assuming TJ and I will be having a belated Paleki-style Christmas dinner with my dad after the judge lets him go. I’ll still get to have my tradition, and meanwhile, TJ and I can spend the holiday with his son.” We’d both seen a lot more of Trevor over the last few weeks. TJ’s diagnosis had brought us together somehow, and it felt like Trevor and I had become friends.

  “That’s awesome.”

  I leaned over and gave him a hug. “Merry Christmas, Murph. That’s slightly premature, since I’ll also be dropping by your apartment tomorrow with a surprise platter of cookies that you know nothing about.”

  “And I will gladly eat those surprise cookies. Merry Christmas, Z. Thanks for letting me drag you around the mall, and for talking me down from what would have become The Great Elf Fiasco and Subsequent Shunning of Murph by his Entire Family.”

  I said, “Thanks for asking me to join you, it was fun.”

  “Liar. The mall on Christmas Eve is Hades, no two ways about it. I think my dreads got singed from being lapped at by hell fire. It’s okay though, I still look damn good.” He fluffed his hair, the way a starlet in an old movie would when trying to look beguiling.

  “I enjoyed the company. You made hell fun.” I got out of his 1970’s powder blue VW bug, but then I leaned back in and said, “Just so you know, I’m convinced your pun T-shirt collection reached an absolute zenith with Mr. Walken. There’s just no topping that.”

  He beamed at me and exclaimed, “Challenge accepted!” I was chuckling as I shut the car door and watched him putter away down Peartree Place.

  When I went inside, TJ met me at the door and whispered, “Christopher called and asked if I’d open the shop for this family of tourists from Munich. They bought three of our pieces at the gallery and wanted to see more. Sorry, I should have said no. They’ve been here forever, and now it’s cutting into our Christmas Eve.”

  “We have all night,” I said as I ran my hand over his stubbly cheek. “I’ll go upstairs and get dinner started.”

  “It’s all done, I made it while you and Murph were shopping. We’ll just need to heat it up. In the meantime, help yourself to the appetizers in the fridge, you’re probably hungry.”

  He’d done a bit more decorating, too. When I got upstairs, I found a cardboard box on the couch, full of neatly wrapped bundles of white lights. We’d decided to keep the holidays simple, so our Christmas tree was about a foot tall and in a pot on the dining table. But TJ had strung lights all around the edge of the ceiling that afternoon, and they added a festive touch.

  In a flash of inspiration, I started gathering books from around the apartment. Working quickly, I stacked them in round layers in the middle of the living room floor, each new layer decreasing in size until they formed a six-foot-tall cone. When I looped several strands of lights around my creation, it formed a pretty passable Christmas tree, one I thought TJ would enjoy.

  Elijah texted me just as I was finishing, because he wanted to make sure TJ and I were still planning to come to Christmas brunch at his house. He’d moved back in with Chance, Finn and Colt at the end of November, and it had been a bit awkward at first, but he seemed to be settling in. He would be moving onto the Saithmore campus when winter quarter began in January, and I was glad everything seemed to be coming together for him. I assured Elijah we’d be there and sent him a photo of the book tree, and he sent me one in return of his smiling face and a big thumbs-up.

  My next task was to gather and light every candle in the apartment. I clustered about a dozen of them on the coffee table, and turned off everything but the Christmas lights. The results made me smile.

  When TJ came into the apartment, he exclaimed, “Oh wow.” I left the kitchen and met him beside the book tree, and he gathered me in an embrace. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

  I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Later on, we ate our meal sitting across from each other at the dining table and exchanged stories about our afternoons (the German family had bought four more pieces, in addition to those they’d purchased at the gallery, which floored both of us). TJ tried to seem upbeat and kept the conversation light, but it felt forced, and that worried me.

  He’d allowed himself just that one night to let out what he was feeling about his diagnosis, and after that, he’d shoved his feelings down and gotten extremely busy. I had no idea how he was coping, or if he was scared, or if he needed help. I pushed my food around the plate for a while, and finally asked, “How are you, TJ?”

  “I’m fine.” I knew he’d say that. It was what he always said.

  I put my fork down and asked, “Why won’t you tell me what’s really going on with you?”

  “I just did.”

  “No you didn’t,” I said gently. “I know you, TJ, and I know there’s so much you’ve been keeping inside. I wish you’d talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to say. I’m fine.” He got up from the table and carried his half-full plate to the sink.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, trailing after him into the small kitchen. “I didn’t mean to spoil your dinner. I’m just worried about you, TJ.”

  “There’s no reason to be,” he said as he stepped around me.

  “I don’t think that’s true.” I followed him into the living room.

  He grabbed his coat and headed for the door as he muttered, “I can’t do this right now.”

  “Please don’t go. I’m only trying to help.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes when he turned to me and snapped, “I’m fine! I don’t need help.”

  My voice rose, despite myself. “Bullshit! We haven’t talked about anything more in depth than the weather in weeks, and we’ve been living like roommates, with just the occasional hug in place of any real intimacy. I don’t get it! We always turned to each other when things got bad! When I was in recovery, we talked about everything. I told you things I’ve never told another soul. But now that you’re the one dealing with a crisis, you’re totally shutting me out!”

  “What do you want me to say?” He yelled that. “Do you want me to admit I’m scared? What would that accomplish? All it’d do is scare you too, and….” His voice wavered, and he muttered, “I have to go,” as he reached for the door handle.

  I got in his way and said, much more quietly, “But I’m already scared, TJ. I’m fucking terrified. Not because of the disease, but because of the way you’re letting it redefine you. After all you’ve survived in your life, drugs, and prison, and all of it, you’re letting a diagnosis shut you down. You used to be willing to let me in, but not anymore. When I was the one who needed help, you were totally there for me. You helped carry the burden, and that made it bearable. But now you’re denying me the chance to do the same for you. It breaks my heart to be on the outside, watching the man I love struggling.” I touched his arm and pleaded, “Just talk to me, TJ. Please.”

  Tears shone in his eyes, but he shook his head. “I’m supposed to be strong for you. That’s all I have to offer. You needed me when you were in recovery. What if you need me again and I can’t help you because I’m too busy struggling with my own shit? And there’s absolutely no reason for me to feel scared! The doctors told us my viral load is low, despite all those years I went without treatment. I’m going to stay healthy. As long as I keep taking all those fucking pills, every day of my life, I’ll be alright.”

  TJ began crumbling right in front of me. He tried to keep up his façade, tried to remain emotionless, but it wasn’t working. I could begin to catch glimpses through it, and I realized all he’d been pushing down was so much worse than I’d imagined.

  “That’s not all you have to offer, TJ. Not by a long shot. We talked about this! You’re my partner, not my caretaker. So
metimes, yes, I will absolutely need your help. And sometimes, you’ll need mine. That’s how it’s supposed to be! I don’t expect you to be a knight riding in on a white horse to save me. I just need the kind, gentle, beautiful human being I fell in love with, but all I see anymore is the armor.”

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” His voice was so quiet. “Ever since I got that diagnosis, I’ve been so fucking terrified of dying, but that makes no sense, because I’m healthy. It could have been so much worse.”

  “Murph said it reminded you of your mortality. No wonder you’re scared! It’s more than that, too. I think you resent the disease, and the need for the medications and tests and doctor visits. I also think you’re angry, because I am too, and there’s nowhere to channel it.”

  “I am. I’m so fucking angry,” TJ said, “and I don’t know what to do with it. I want to punch my ex in the face for what he did to me, but that won’t solve anything. It won’t make the disease go away. Nothing will ever make it go away. All I can do is manage it, every single day, forever, and I’m so fucking pissed off! I want to yell and scream and put my fist through a wall, but none of that will help. Nothing will. My whole life was redefined in an instant by something completely outside my control, and I hate that so fucking much! I want my life back, the way it used to be, before the diagnosis, and the pills, and the constant worry about passing it on to you!”

  I told him, “But you won’t. We’re taking every precaution.”

  “I know. The rational part of my brain knows all of that. But the rest of me is just so fucking terrified of this thing inside me, of it destroying me despite the medications, and destroying you, despite the condoms and PrEP and everything else. It’s killing me even without making me sick! It’s eating away at me, breaking me down!

  “I know I’ve been pushing you back, but it’s for your own good. Don’t you see that? I feel like I’m in a whirlpool, and soon, very soon, I’m going to get sucked under. I can’t take you down with me! I feel like I’m right on the edge of totally losing it, of having some kind of emotional breakdown, or worse.” TJ met my gaze and admitted, “I’ve thought about using again, Zachary. It’s been over twenty fucking years, but I’m thinking about it again. I thought that shit was behind me forever, but here I am, fucking craving the escape, even though I know for a goddamn fact that it ruined my life the first time around! It cost me my son and my freedom. It cost me everything! And that’ll happen again if I go back down that path. I’ll lose you too, and I just can’t.”

  “Oh God, TJ.” I tried to hug him, but he recoiled from me, folding into himself into the corner beside the front door.

  “I can’t take you down with me, Zachary. I won’t. You’re just a few months out of recovery. You can’t be around this. You can’t be around me. I’ll drag you under.” Tears spilled down his face.

  “You’re wrong,” I said, my voice strong and sure. “You’re not going to drag me under. Instead, I’m going to pull you up.” I held my hand out to him. “Let me be your lifeline, just like you were mine. I can hold your head above water until you feel strong enough to swim against the tide. Please, TJ. Let me help you.”

  He hesitated for a long moment, watching me with fear and heartbreak in his eyes. Finally, finally, he reached out and took my hand. And I knew, right then. Somehow, I just knew he was going to be okay.

  We both were.

  Epilogue

  Five Months Later

  “Happy Birthday, kiddo.”

  I beamed at my dad as I came into the former storeroom behind our shop, which TJ and I had converted into a brightly lit workshop. But I said, “Kiddo? Seriously? I’m twenty-five, as of today. Maybe it’s time to rethink the nicknames.” I gave him a hug, then went around the workbench and kissed TJ before asking, “What time is it? You totally let me oversleep.”

  “On purpose,” my boyfriend told me. “It’s around ten-thirty, but we were both up way too late last night, so I figured you could use a little rest.”

  “I don’t want to know what you were doing to keep each other up all night,” my father said, taking off his safety glasses and shooting me a look.

  “We were studying, Dad. The quarter ends next week, and algebra’s kicking my ass. Elijah even drove up from Saithmore to tutor me, and that helped a lot, but ugh, this is not my favorite subject.” TJ and I had decided to take three classes together at the community college, and it was going well, apart from that one class.

  My dad said, “Eli’s driving now?”

  “Yeah, he finally got his license last week. Chance and Finn bought him a little Toyota so he can come home on the weekends.” He was adapting well to life on campus, partly because Alastair had stepped into a big brother role and taken him under his wing.

  “I’m proud of him, I know he was nervous about driving.” My dad had bonded with Elijah more than I would have expected over the last few months. But then, maybe he was making up for lost time, in a way. Eli was the same age I’d been when my dad went to prison, and being a father figure for the teen seemed to do a lot for both of them.

  I put my arm around TJ’s shoulders as I said, “Let me see what you’re making, Dad.” A bunch of little gears and random materials were spread out in front of my father. He was fascinated by the wind-up toys, but kept getting frustrated when he tried to make them.

  He scooped up the parts and dropped them into a tray, then added the safety glasses and soldering tool. “A mess, that’s what I’m making. I don’t know how you two can deal with those tiny pieces, it’s completely aggravating. I think I’ll just stick to car engines. At least with them, you can actually see what the hell you’re working on.” He stood up and reached for his jacket. I noticed he’d put on some weight over the last five months, and he looked a lot healthier. “Speaking of engines, I’m going back to the shop. I’ll see you at the restaurant tonight for your birthday dinner.” Jessie and Kai had hired him to work in their garage, and they’d even let him live in their converted office rent free until he was able to afford his own apartment. I was beyond grateful to them for helping my dad get back on his feet.

  “Mel brought you a present, Zachary,” TJ told me. “It’s over there.” He tilted his head to the left.

  I turned to my father and said, “Aw Dad, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

  A blue gift bag was on the big, orange sofa, which we’d bought so our friends and family would have a comfortable place to hang out during their frequent visits to the shop. We’d been making an effort to let people into our lives, saying yes to dinner and party invitations and even a couple more weekend camping trips with Trevor and his extended family. Somehow, TJ’s diagnosis, and my recovery, and everything we’d both faced over the last ten months made us want to reach out more. It just felt good knowing there were people in our lives who cared about us, and who had our back, just like we had theirs and each other’s.

  “It’s nothing big.” My dad looked embarrassed as he gestured at the gift bag. “Open that after I leave. It’s…well, it’s just something I wanted you to have.”

  I walked him to the door and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  “Yup. See you soon.” He paused for a moment and looked at me closely. Then he kissed my forehead and smiled at me before heading out the door.

  After he took off, I locked up and returned to the workshop. As I picked up the present, I told TJ, “Every time I walk into a room and see my dad, I get a flood of happiness all over again, like I still can’t believe he’s really here. I hope that never wears off.” I pulled the tissue paper out of the sack and glanced inside. “Oh wow.”

  “What is it?”

  I carefully slid a notebook out of the gift bag. The pages were lined with blue ink, but that didn’t detract from the art between the paperboard covers. My dad had filled every page, every square inch, with gorgeous, fanciful drawings, even the covers themselves. I brought it over to TJ and turned the pages for both of u
s.

  He studied the drawings and said, “What a perfect gift.” I leaned against him, and he put his arm around me as I continued to leaf through the artwork. It touched my heart, because I knew what that simple little spiral-bound notebook must have meant to my dad, providing an escape during all those hours and months and years in prison. All that time that shouldn’t have been lost. The retrial had taken less than two hours, and when the judge ruled the death accidental and let my dad go, she actually apologized, saying the legal system had failed him the first time around. I cleared my throat to dislodge the lump that had formed there.

  When I reached the end, I hugged the present to my chest, and TJ told me, “Come on, birthday boy, I have brunch all ready to go upstairs.”

  “I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble,” I said, taking his hand.

  Chaplin purred and wound through my legs when we reached the apartment. The cat had finally warmed up to me. Actually, he’d gone from hating me to adoring me within the course of one random day back in February. TJ said Chaplin liked me more than he’d ever liked him, and I reminded him cats were bizarre and irrational creatures.

  I displayed the notebook by standing it up on a bookshelf. I’d have to figure out a place of honor for it, but that would keep it safe for the time being. Then I joined TJ in the kitchen and asked, “How many people are you planning to feed here?” He’d pulled a huge fruit salad and a frittata out of the refrigerator and folded back the lid on a pink bakery box, revealing half a dozen croissants and pastries.

  He grinned embarrassedly and dipped his head as I popped a strawberry in my mouth. He’d been growing out his hair, and it was almost long enough to hide behind. But not quite. When he glanced up at me, I could see the mischievous sparkle in his eye as he said, “We might need all this food. I was thinking, if you wanted to, maybe we could go into the bedroom and work up an appetite.” I practically dragged him out of the kitchen.