Page 172 of Indiscretion

Miserable holiday season for me, too. Elliot has to deal with his family and makes trips to Nebraska over Thanksgiving and Christmas. Shae, Chris, and Kev guilt me into stopping by the White House for dinner on those days by using the excuse that the kids want to see their Uncle Leo. I depart as soon as I can slip away without being noticed.

I don’twantto be around people.

Idamnsure don’t want to fly home to California and be forced to explain to my family that Jordan and I broke up.

Because they’ll want to knowwhy.

Because they loved Jordan.

And any explanation is hollow without the crucial information of the identity of the invisible presence at the center of our relationship—Elliot.

I spend those holiday evenings alone and sulking in my apartment and drinking. I think about how, for the past six years, my holidays were joyful because I had Jordan. How he always put up a little Christmas tree for us with ornaments that he’d had from his Mimi.

I wonder if he put up a tree in his apartment this year. He hasn’t posted any pictures of one on social media like he always used to. We’re still friends there, and he’s barely posting anything except photos he takes of things around Tallahassee, or pictures of his artwork.

All of the images he posts bear a melancholy feel, or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part.

OfcourseI’m still keeping tabs on him. Don’t be an idiot. He’smyboy.

I mean…he’s not anymore. But he always will be, to me.

Which is why I make several solo trips to Tallahassee over the next couple of months.

I take comfort in the fact that Jordan is never with anyone else, that I can tell.

Yes, I’m stalking him. All right? I think we’ve already established I’m a very bad man with more than a few emotional issues of my own.

And maybe, while we were together, after Chris’ brother and sister-in-law were killed, I put a tracking app on Jordan’s personal cell phone without him knowing.

Perhaps I log in and look at it on a fairly regular basis to see where he’s at and where he’s been.

By regular, I mean daily.

Fuck, okay,fine. I check itseveraltimes a day. Happy? Only time it doesn’t work is when he shuts the phone off, which he rarely does.

Mostly work, shopping, and home. Jordan nearly always takes the same route to and from work, unless the weather’s bad. Then, based on his path and travel times, I’m guessing he uses a ride-share.

Yes, I might have Tallahassee on my weather app so I can see what it’s like there.

So what if the first thing I usually do every morning is check to make sure he’s up and moving?

Who cares if I worry when, on a weekday, he’s home for too long?

What business is it of anyone’s that the thought of him one day being with someone else makes me sick to my stomach?

Meanwhile, at work, we make it through the State of the Union address in January. I’m also keeping tabs on developments elsewhere.Thatdistraction is greatly welcomed. Especially the closer we draw to Elliot needing to make a decision about declaring. Time is running out for him to officially declare. The assumption by everyone is that he will.

The assumption by everyone except me, and I keepthatparticular thought to myself.

He hasn’t indicated that he won’t run.

Except he’s talked with me a few times, more trying to verbally purge his brain, and the way he talked led me to believe maybe he’s considering not running.

I won’t hold my breath, though. Assuming things has broken my heart more than once now.

In some ways, Elliot and I are in a holding pattern as we orbit each other at slowly increasingly distances. I know he feels guilty that Jordan’s gone. Since I’m not talking about Jordan, and Elliot’s kinda got a pretty important job, I easily deflect when he wants to discuss the topic.

Doesn’t help that I’m pulling away from him. I don’t have the emotional energy to engage in the usual subtle maneuvering to get him to ask me to spend time with him, and there hasn’t been a repeat of him spontaneously asking me for time the way he did that weekend after we returned from the California trip. I use the bustle of activity of trying to get the budget passed as an excuse to spend more time than ever working. Shae’s schedule gets busier, too, as she starts stumping for Senate candidates, both incumbents and challengers, who’ve indicated they’re running.