Page 15
Story: Confessions of Pain
On one hand, the strange ability he possessed was sad. On the other hand, I wished to fuck that I had it—that I could have a blank slate and start all over again. I wished all memories of Kelsey could be forever erased from my head. A blank slate? No, my slate had Kelsey’s name and little hearts drawn all over it.
“Well, that went remarkably bad,” Jeremiah said. “I think you were a little hard on him, babe. You’ve got to quit pushing him. He’ll grow his wings and fly when he’s ready. It’s not something you can force on him just because you think it’s something he’s lacking.”
Ethan’s entire body relaxed when a door upstairs slammed shut. I pictured two boxers separating and going to their corners for a break. “I don’t understand him,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to understand him. You have to love and support him. Period. That’s it. Stop trying to turn him into a miniature you. He’s his own person, babe.”
Turning to me, Ethan asked, “What do you think?”
I smiled. “I think that although your boyfriend knows how to kill a man more ways than Krispy Kreme knows how to make doughnuts, he sounds mighty gay right now.”
“Asshole,” Jeremiah grumbled.
After we enjoyed a few minutes laughing at Jeremiah’s blush, we got our pizza from the delivery kid and hit the hot tub—just like Titus had instructed. When the pizza had arrived, the smell lured him back down the stairs and, just as we’d expected, we had a blank slate. For three fun-filled hours, we did nothing but stuff our faces, relax, and laugh at nothing and everything. For those three hours, I was able to forget about what awaited me outside the doors of our mini hotel. My escape from reality didn’t last long, though. Titus was up, bright and early, at four in the morning, to review his plan for saving Morganston Textiles.
“Well, that went remarkably bad,” Jeremiah said. “I think you were a little hard on him, babe. You’ve got to quit pushing him. He’ll grow his wings and fly when he’s ready. It’s not something you can force on him just because you think it’s something he’s lacking.”
Ethan’s entire body relaxed when a door upstairs slammed shut. I pictured two boxers separating and going to their corners for a break. “I don’t understand him,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to understand him. You have to love and support him. Period. That’s it. Stop trying to turn him into a miniature you. He’s his own person, babe.”
Turning to me, Ethan asked, “What do you think?”
I smiled. “I think that although your boyfriend knows how to kill a man more ways than Krispy Kreme knows how to make doughnuts, he sounds mighty gay right now.”
“Asshole,” Jeremiah grumbled.
After we enjoyed a few minutes laughing at Jeremiah’s blush, we got our pizza from the delivery kid and hit the hot tub—just like Titus had instructed. When the pizza had arrived, the smell lured him back down the stairs and, just as we’d expected, we had a blank slate. For three fun-filled hours, we did nothing but stuff our faces, relax, and laugh at nothing and everything. For those three hours, I was able to forget about what awaited me outside the doors of our mini hotel. My escape from reality didn’t last long, though. Titus was up, bright and early, at four in the morning, to review his plan for saving Morganston Textiles.
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