I want to tell him it wasn’t his fault. I was just as much into what happened between us as he was. Possibly more. Sleeping with him was amazing, incredible. That orgasm was one for the record books. I wish I could do it again and again.
Instead I simply reply, NP. It shouldn’t affect our work relationship.
Seconds tick past, turning into minutes.
No response.
I fall onto my side and let the tears fall.
14
Patton
All the lights are off when I arrive at Marley’s apartment. “Hello?” I tap on the wall as I walk through the foyer into the living room.
Light streaks across the floor from beneath the drapes covering the balcony, and I go to them, pulling them apart. The space fills with light, and I see full ash trays, empty beer bottles, and twisted off plastic baggies.
“Marley?” My voice is louder, and I move a little quicker, pushing open the bedroom door.
It’s musty, and I go to him, giving his shoulder a shake.
“Hey, wake up.” My voice is sharp, but his body is warm. Fuck. I was worried for a minute. “Hey.” I give him another shake. “Are you sleeping?”
He makes a groan and rolls onto his side. “What?”
“It’s noon. Get up.”
He pushes into a sitting position with another groan. “What the fuck, man?”
“I brought hot chicken. Come eat.”
I didn’t feel like eating it after Raquel left last night. I didn’t know I could feel satisfied and pissed at the same time.
Marley shuffles into the kitchen, where I’m arranging chicken on a plate with a banana. I don’t know what he’s been snorting or smoking, but I’m sure he could use some potassium.
“Looks good, Julia Child. Did you make it?”
“Yeah.” I shove the plate toward him then grab a beer out of his fridge. “Eat it all.”
He sits in front of the plate and looks at it a few minutes. Then he puts his elbow on the bar, reaching for the pack of cigarettes.
“What made you decide to cook?”
“Gotta eat.”
He takes a long drag and blows smoke over his head. I walk to the balcony and pull the doors open, letting in some fresh air.
“Remember when we’d play basketball at the Y?” He hasn’t made a move to eat.
“Yeah.”
“It’s how we met.”
Everything is memories with him these days. It’s making me restless. “What did you do on Saturday?”
He shrugs. “Slept. Hung around here.”
“Did Taron come by?” I walk slowly to the coffee table and see what looks like heroin in a tight little baggie.