Raze (Riven 3)

And he didn’t know.

My beautiful Felix thought I didn’t care. And it was my fault.

My desire and affection had screamed as loud as a teakettle in my head, but I had been so fucking scared that I had locked it all away, tight as a walnut, and let Felix live in uncertainty.

I thought I might be sick.

And still they were all staring at me. I snaked a hand to my belly and pushed as hard as I could.

* * *

—

The next morning, Caleb and Theo must’ve gotten up early, because Caleb tapped on the doorframe to the living room while I was still asleep. He perched on the edge of the couch. It was strangely intimate. I’d seen him in all states of nudity, disarray, and desperation, but he’d never seen me anything but fully dressed and in control. I pulled the blanket up to my neck self-consciously. Even after multiple showers, the tangle of words remained. He snorted and tossed me my T-shirt from the coffee table.

“So I was thinking about everything,” he said.

“Everything, huh?”

He glared at me.

“Look, real talk?”

I nodded. God knew I’d delivered it to him enough times over the years. It was his turn.

“The reason you were such a great sponsor? Was because you didn’t let your sponsees’ feelings touch you. I’m not saying you don’t have feelings. Just because you don’t show them doesn’t mean I think you don’t have them. But you were a wall, man. All the slimy, grimy, twisty shit we vomited up in front of you just slid to the ground and slithered away. It worked so well because it meant I never had to feel guilty for burdening you, because it didn’t stick to you. I didn’t have to worry about you judging me because you were removed. You didn’t take anything personally—not success or failure—and you never really reacted.”

That was how I’d felt for so long. Like I was a black hole where judgment and feelings didn’t exist, so people could toss them into me and I could give advice with perfect, flat neutrality.

Outside the window, a hopeful bird called to another who didn’t answer.

“But it’s not bouncing off you anymore, is it? You’re absorbing it all. Over the last year or so you’ve seemed…I don’t know, heavier. Like every hit is landing.”

He put a hand on my forearm.

“Please hear this. I love you. You’re my dear friend. And I see you hurting yourself. If you were hurting yourself by using again, I’d intervene. I know this isn’t the same. But there are lots of ways to be an addict. You taught me that. So please. This is me intervening. Just think about whether maybe it’s time to step back a little. You’re no good to any of your sponsees if they hurt you by getting your help.”

Caleb’s words burrowed deep. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had told me they loved me.

* * *

—

When I got back into the city, I went straight to Felix’s apartment. I didn’t want to give myself any time to lose my nerve or second-guess what had been made so clear to me: that I wanted Felix. I wanted him in my life, I wanted him in my bed, I wanted him in my arms, and I needed him to know it. The rest of it I could figure out. But that I knew without a doubt.

Duffel bag on my shoulder, I knocked on his door for the second time. Only this time, he didn’t answer.

All the manic intent I’d gathered on the train ride back flooded out of me, leaving me anxious.

I took the subway to Buggy’s Bagels, wondering why I’d never stopped in to see Felix at work before. He wasn’t there either.

“He’s off for a few days,” the woman working behind the counter told me when I asked. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You his boyfriend?”

My stomach twinged with joy that he would’ve mentioned me to a coworker, and I nodded. Then it lurched when she said, “And you don’t know where he is?”

I squared my shoulders. “Thanks for your time,” I said, and walked out.

Felix never took days off. If he’d done it now, then either there had been some emergency or he was even more upset than I’d realized. I called him and it went to voicemail. I left a message, asking him to call me.

Wherever he was, I had to resign myself to waiting for him to make a move.

* * *

—

I couldn’t sleep. No matter how many push-ups I did or how much I benched. No matter how many times I copied the facts from the latest podcasts I’d listened to into my notebook or how many times I crisscrossed the city to meet with sponsees, I couldn’t lie down without my mind racing to replay my fight with Felix. My non-fight. The fight in which he told me he needed me, told me he didn’t know if I liked him, told me I wasn’t living my life…and I said nothing.