Part 37 (2/2)

Alex does even filthier things but says it all washes off with soap.

I don't believe that. I think it all leaves stains. Indelible stains.

I Wait for Her Now Wondering where she is, what she has done today, if she'll come home. Lydia called. We've got a bachelor party at ten. It's nine fifteen already, and no sign of Alex. I tried her cell. Went straight to voice mail. The battery must be gone. If she doesn't show, I'll have to go alone. Won't be the first time, and she knows how scared I am to work by myself. I still love her, but I feel her slipping away, bit by bit, every day. Finally the door opens. She's a total mess-makeup smeared, hair like a rat's nest, clothes dirty and torn. I rush to her side, ”What happened? Are you okay?”

I try to hug her, but she shoves me away. Don't touch me. Tears spill from her eyes, tracking mascara down her cheeks. She sinks down on the sofa, puts her face into her hands. b.a.s.t.a.r.d screwed me, then robbed me. Took everything.

Again I try to hold her. This time she doesn't pull away, but she is like sandstone. Hard on the surface, crumbling beneath. ”It's okay.

We'll be okay.” Then, an after- thought, ”How much did he get?”

Her head sags against my chest, wetting my s.h.i.+rt with tears, snot.

Not sure. Four or five hundred.

Anger flares suddenly, but not because of the money. Because of what we've become. ”We've got a G.o.dd.a.m.n bachelor party, clear across town. We'll barely make it if we leave right now.”

She looks up at me with ringtail eyes. I can't .... please. I'm gonna be sick. She runs to the bathroom.

I follow, put an ear to the door, hear the definite sound of puke splash. ”Okay,” I call. ”I'll take this one by myself. But when I get back, we have to talk.” For once, I'm not afraid to do the gig alone.

The whole cab ride over, I think about what it is I want to say.

I arrive at a few minutes after ten.

The guys are young, not much older than me. Good. They won't ask for many extras. I handle the business end, promise a lap dance to the groom, who looks excited and scared at the same time.

And for the entire hour I'm taking off my clothes, s.h.i.+mmying and writhing and faking ”s.e.xy,” my mind is on one thing. I don't know how, where, or even with whom.

Just know I have to get out of here.

A Poem by Cody Bennett Don't Know Who I am anymore.

I was sure once, not long ago. Knew where I came from, and where I was going to. Now I don't have a clue who puts on my shoes in the morning, nor what direction he's going when he closes the door behind him. He looks a lot like me. But his flame has been extinguished, buried too far beneath his soil to find air enough to smolder.

It is no more than a vague memory, all oxygen gone.

Cody

How Do I Find Myself Here?

Not even a year since everything started a s...o...b..ll roll toward h.e.l.l.

It's a place I'm starting to know well, a place I deserve. I mean, I couldn't stop Cory from f.u.c.king up. He was set on it. And Jack wasn't my fault.

I didn't make him get cancer, did my best for him when he did. Hear that, Jack? I wanted to help you! Couldn't.

I'm not G.o.d. What happened is between him and you. Can't you do anything up there to help me out down here?

Okay, maybe I'm not worthy of your intervention. Maybe you're just plain grossed out. p.i.s.sed off.

But if you help me, you'll help Mom, too. She can't make it on her own. d.a.m.n it, you promised!

And dude, if I can't worm my way out of this crazy place, I'll have to consider that medicine chest, still full of pain meds and sleeping pills. Mom would only miss me so long. The rest of the world wouldn't miss me at all.

That Includes Ronnie Oh, she claims she misses me now.

I only see her at school, and I'm not there a whole h.e.l.l of a lot. I should be, of course. Just started junior year.

If I really want college, really want more, I need to focus not only on attendance, but on getting good grades. Impossible. Too much going on. Too much going down.

Hard enough, just surviving.

Trying not to think about Cory.

Not to think about Lydia, etc.

I get to cla.s.s late, or not at all.

Can't find interest in any of my cla.s.ses. English? I talk good enough.

Math? Let me give you a point spread. History? Want to hear mine? Chemistry? Girls or men?

And Ronnie? She pleads for attention.

Can't you please come over, spend a little time with me? C'mon, Cody.

I miss you so much. Remember ....

Then she'll try to convince me, bringing up one of those special (G.o.d, yes, they were special) times we spent in bed. Oh, I do miss holding her close. The satin of her hair. The luscious full curves of her body. But s.e.x means something different now. I can't tell her that.

So I lie. Tell her I have to work. (For a temp service, so she can't track me down any certain place.) Tell her I have to drive Mom somewhere.

(Usually to visit Cory.) Tell her I'm just too freaking tired. (No lie.) Sooner or later, she'll get sick of the excuses and find another guy. I only hope it's someone who deserves the perfect girl.

Not an addict. Not a boy wh.o.r.e.

Not a f.u.c.king loser like me.

The Only Thing I've won at lately is a few games of chance. A hand or ten of poker.

And the Chiefs have been on a roll.

<script>