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Shane texted every day, so I held that sliver of hope that it wasn’t the end. He wasn’t cutting me out, but he wasn’t letting me in.
Hope had the power to kill a man.
I had pined for a dead man for five years, but this was worse. I’d known there was no future with Pax, but I’d chosen not to accept that and lived my life as if he might come back.
But Shane wasn’t dead, and my choice had been ripped away. My choice would be to help Shane work through whatever was going on and be there for him.
Shane had been so sure I’d leave him. For a long time, I hadn’t been unable to commit to a life with him. It never occurred to me that Shane would end us without a reason. It was always a possibility that I fucked it up, and he’d have to walk away for his mental health. But that didn’t happen as far as I knew.
I was a new self-aware, going-to-therapy kinda guy. Therapy taught me a lot. I knew when I fucked up. Going to your boyfriend’s apartment on his birthday to take care of him was not fucking up, even if he said he was going to bed. I could’ve tucked him in bed with a kiss on the head and left.
It wasn’t about me. But Shane had to choose me. I wasn’t what he needed, but he never gave me the chance to try. I’m sure it had to do with his past and probably his birthday. Intentionally holding onto pain had been my specialty. He’d helped me let go of it without disrespecting Pax. If only he’d let me do the same for him.
It’d only been a few days, but it felt like a thousand. Loving a dead person was hard, loving Shane, who was alive and well but didn’t love me back, was excruciating.
My phone rang with a call from Shane which was weird, and my heart vaulted into a staccato. Shane texted and only called if he was typing on his computer and didn’t want to wait until he was done. But it was after 1 a.m. Nothing good happened after midnight.
“Hello?” I asked with uncertainty.
I heard breathing but nothing else. Shane probably dialed me in his sleep, so I hung up. My heart was in my throat, and I willed myself to calm down. Shane wasn’t trying to contact me, and everything was fine. I’d be fine. Eventually.
My phone rang again, and even though I knew he wouldn’t be on the other end, I answered.
“Are you butt-dialing me?”
I heard a gasp and then a broken, “Daddy.”
I was out of bed, throwing on clothes in a frenzy. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” All I heard was gasping. He sounded like he was in the midst of an epic panic attack. “Hang on, let me check your location.” He was at Branson Financial. “Are you in your office?”
I knew he was trying to answer and couldn’t. “It’s okay, baby. I’m coming. Stay with me.” My car was in the garage a block away, but putting him in a rideshare car was unacceptable.
I talked nonstop to give him something else to focus on. We’d talked about his panic attacks, and he said his brain gets stuck in a downward spiral and can’t get out.
Listening to Shane struggle to breathe made my ears ring. The helplessness clawed my insides out until I was a hollow shell. It dawned on me that this is how Shane must’ve felt after whatever set him off. The inability to function like a normal person.
In my misguided effort to distract Shane, I realized I’d been telling him stories about Unframed Art and Alec, but Pax slipped in as well. I might as well break up with myself.
“I’m sorry. I’m not handling this well, and I’m sure the last thing you want to hear is my past with Pax. You can kick my ass when I get there.”
The drive was taking forever, and I was breaking all kinds of traffic laws. There was no need to stop for red lights when I was the only guy at the intersection.
“I...like...it.” Shane wheezed and three words had never sounded so beautiful to me. He had enough breath to talk, and that eased the vise around my heart.
“I’m almost there, Pretty Boy. You want more stories?”
Shane grunted a yes and then found his voice. “Tell me about when you were a kid.”
I launched into a story about sneaking out, building a fort in our adjoining backyards, and falling asleep. Our parents couldn’t find us, and Pax’s dad built a fence a few weeks later. I drove around the side of Shane’s building scoping out the truck entrance. I thanked God, karma, and whoever listened that it was open.
I found Shane crammed under his desk, blinking up at me with soul-dead eyes. “I got you, baby. I’m here.” I crouched down and he willingly came into my arms. Settling him on my lap in his chair, I held him tight. “Breathe with me.”
I placed his hand over my chest and laid my hand over his heart.
Shane tried to get as close to me as possible as if he wanted to crawl inside my chest for comfort. I brought my feet up on the desk with my knees bent, so I created a sort of cradle with my body.
“Can I get your meds or anything else?” I asked.
Shane shook his head and buried his face in my throat, inhaling deeply. We held each other for so long, my legs cramped, and my ass fell asleep but I wasn’t letting him go.