The more time I spend awake the more I wish I could undo the last few weeks. I still feel trapped in grey, but I now have guilt and remorse to carry with me. I've had bad times before, days where I'd withdrawn and been laid up by depression. But never before have I deliberately hurt myself. Though to be honest, I hadn't tried to hurt myself. I tried to die. More than two weeks later I'm still baffled as to why I chose that path. I'm still recovering but now it's more about my mental state. I graduated from the medical unit of the hospital, but everyone thinks a stay in the behavioral program would help. So here I am, slogging through group therapy and counseling sessions. I haven't seen anyone since I came in five days ago. Maris, Nathan and Heidi from work saw me in the hospital and I felt guilty when they came by. Here in this unit though, visitors are a privilege, which has to be earned. I didn't mind this policy though. Seeing the people I disappointed is too much to contemplate. It hurts my soul, and I have zero desire to feel more hurt, even though I know I deserve to hurt.
Maris had brought Kells to see me when I first woke up after my dance with vodka and oxy. The two of them probably hoped for a tearful reunion where Kells and I mutually beg each other's forgiveness and all the problems faded away under the force of true love. Granted, my life has been a bad straight to cable movie the last few months, yet I'm not sure how either of them were surprised at my reaction. My chest aches as I remember that time, weeks earlier.
"Get out"
"Josh I just.."
"I said GET. OUT." I interrupted Kells harshly.
"Josh, honey, just listen ple—" Maris began
I roared my response, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME" through Maris' words, and followed my scream with my water pitcher. I stared down Kells, who stood at the foot of my hospital bed, shocked and dripping as he nodded slowly and backed away.
Maris gasped, "No Kells wait!" and followed him into the hall.
I wanted to listen in but I couldn't bear to hear what they said. As if it wasn't bad enough I had tried this shit, and hurt my best and only real friend, why did the person, who was connected to my out of control emotions, have to show up here? Why did Kells have to come survey the broken mess I was? He couldn't have the grace and mercy to just keep away after he bailed? I felt humiliated. Why had anyone even bothered? I was disgusting and deserved to hurt. I pulled the sheet over my head and curled into a ball, and proceeded to close my eyes and wait for sleep to come. I knew I would be waiting a long while, and felt the piercing cold build in my chest.
I shook my head and tried to clear those memories from my mind. Just like I wanted, Kells had left and not come back. Which was good, I wanted him to go. I didn't have what it took to be part of someone's life. I was pathetic. It was good he was gone, right? I nodded, alone in my room, and ignored the fact that my face was wet with tears.
***********
Josh doesn't want me. On my back deck, staring into the night sky, his screams for me to leave echo in my ears. I'm not quite sure what kind of welcome I expected, but being given the fuck off hadn't been my first guess. All I had seen when I looked at his sweet but worn face was his limp body on the couch. Even now, I can hear in the still of the late summer night his words demanding my exit. I try not to care, try to push it into the box marked 'duty' that I shove all the ungrateful encounters with citizens I have from my job in. This was not work though, I couldn't pretend it was. I know I have a connection with him, an attachment that confuses and thrills me. I know that's why I ignored his replying messages from the night he had dinner with Maris. My heart sank after seeing the possessive teen angst texts I hazily recalled sending to him. I felt and still feel ashamed and afraid. I'm still burdened by the shame of how I acted and my fear to step up and take the risk. My mind is snagged on the possibility he could be like Brian. I am afraid to need Josh.
Alone under night sky with only the fireflies for company, I can admit I'm ashamed to need that connection I felt, that I feel, and to want it. I'm scared it will bring heartbreak the way Brian had. So I had backed away. I should be fighting for him, not running off when he needs me most, even if he can't see it yet. Josh is sweet, wasted on me I think as I review again my choices; especially when I had read his text about his phone dying at dinner but deliberately did not respond for nearly 24 hours, it was a dick move. Karma paid me back though, when the very next night my jealousy and angst took the lead and I ruined my chance. I am definitely too old to be pining over a what might have been, but that apparently isn't stopping my traitorous heart from doing just that.
I look back up at the cloud hazed constellations and muse on the absurdity of well, all of this shit. I built a wall up after Brian, shunning relationships. I pick up young hotties and fuck them. That's it. I don't do dating, I don't text endlessly, I don't pursue. It's easier this way. My life revolves around working, going to the gym and occasionally pulling a down and dirty with a big muscled dude similar to myself.
And yet, there was Josh. He isn't a hot and confident stud, like all my usual men. Josh is awkward, soft, charming, sweet and clearly has a lot of baggage to work through. Our limited conversations had still made clear he wouldn't know where the closest gym was and with his sweet naivete I'd be hard pressed to think of someone less likely to be part of the hookup culture. He was so far away from my type it was laughable. Amazingly, I'm still drawn to him, and seeing him in pain and turmoil does nothing but make me want to be there and help him find his bearings.
I tuck my chin into my shoulder and let out a noisy breath. My whole body shudders with anxiety with all these thoughts swirling in my brain, and I suck in a deep breath to fight those old feelings of being pathetic and wimpy down. Emotions and self reflections aren't my strong point. Even when Brian and I were dating we hadn't been a sappy couple. In fact, I was always fucking proud that being gay didn't mean I was feminine in any way. Yeah. So I spent a few years thinking having feelings was feminine, fucking sue me. I know now it's wrong and sexist as hell, but before Brian tore my world in two, I remained trapped into that mindset.
To be honest, I think that's a big part of why I still struggled with dating. Life is so much easier without emotions clogging the drains. When Brian cheated, I was angry and hurt. I wanted to punch him bloody, but I also wanted to cry and beg him to work it out with me. Granted, the bomb he dropped next that he wasn't just leaving, but leaving me for a coworker, made me a little less enthused to work it out...but only a little. I had really thought he was my soulmate, and the new knowledge that he had seen me as just an easygoing sex partner but not Even his ONLY sex partner was gutting. My head and my heart were a mess then. Ok, I'm still a bit of a mess. If I weren't, I might not still be such an ardent adherent of the hump and dump life.
I roll my eyes at myself for obsessing about Josh and wondering if there can still be an us endlessly in the weeks since that terrible night. It's one sided, my attraction I think. Josh is no longer interested in seeing me, he hasn't called me, though I sent flowers with my number on the card. Luckily, even though Josh isn't willing to see me, I have a reluctant ally in Maris.
Well, maybe ally is too strong a word. Maris has my number and she has so far responded to my inquiries on Josh, if tersely with the bare minimum of details. I try to send her jokes and greetings, because I don't want her to think I'm just using her to get to Josh, even if that kind of is the main tenet of this relationship. I am however starting to like Maris as a person, not just as a footsoldier in the Get Josh campaign. Speaking with Maris and witnessing her fire and wit firsthand, I could see how she is so well loved by Josh.
Tipping the beer towards me, the bitter liquid chasing my fears down I pause to consider what I know: that the more time that goes by, the less confidence I have to try and date him. Everything feels stretched too thin. I like him, but I'm no longer sure I'm trying to be with him or just making sure he's ok. No, that's a damn lie. I know I want to date him. I have seen him at what is arguably his worst and I don't care. I want him. My heart clenches when I think of his reaction to me. It hurts he isn't interested anymore and it's driving me to distraction that his rejection of me matters so much. I drop my head into my forearms as I lean against my balcony rail. I laugh a bitter chuckle. I'm such a fucking cliche right now, pining after lost chance at love while mooning about under the stars. Maybe I just need to get my mojo back, just burn Josh out of my system. It was never going to work out. I take my phone from my pocket and stare at it before drawing a shuddering breath and flipping to contacts.
"Hey sweetness, you busy tomorrow night? Wanna meet up?"
*********
"So Josh. What have you been working on since our last session?" my therapist asks me. Her face is soft and her voice is firm but inviting. I find myself always wanting to confide in her. I sigh as I think about the last couple weeks. Feeling so out of control is terrifying. After I was released from the hospital I took a medical leave of absence from my job and went into a day treatment program for mental health at the same hospital. I am here in their step down programming and I come for both group and individual sessions. Five days last week, four this week and if things went well, three next week. This would continue to decrease until I could tolerate only once weekly individual visits. Thank God I have good insurance. Wait. What did she ask me? I look across the room, where Naomi waited patiently with her usual soft encouraging smile. She correctly reads my face and asks me again
