Have I ever?

Maybe… maybe, but it’s always been a shallow kind of love. Comfortable. Surface deep.

We have no scars, no battle wounds. We haven’t been to Hell and back, or clung to each other in the shadows, crying, shaking, expelling the dirtiest pieces of our soul together.

Is that what I want?

Fuck. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, feeling mixed up and shaken. I bury my face into my hands, flinching when Mandy places her fingertips against the small of my back.

“Think about what you really want, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.” She rubs my back in soft and steady motions, up and down, back and forth. “I have a bridal party coming into the salon for updos in an hour, so I’ll drop you off at home on the way. Feel free to take a shower or eat or something. I’m going to get dressed.”

I feel the mattress lift up as she stands, her footsteps making their way out of the room, the door shutting gently behind her. I tent my fingers and stare at the wall.

What the fuck do I want?

I’m sitting in front of the television that evening, keeping my eyes away from the kitchen where a brand new bottle of vodka beckons me from the top of the refrigerator. I’m torn between throwing it over my balcony into the wetlands and polishing off the whole damn thing, just so I can go numb and pass the fuck out.

Or die.

I’d probably die, and it’s concerning how unaffected I am by that prospect.

Maybe Mandy was right about the medication thing.

I’m still deciding what to do when I hear my phone buzzing beside me on the little wooden table. I reach for it, surprised to see Cora’s name attached to a long string of text messages coming through.

Cora: I’m sorry about what I said.

Cora: I think.

Cora: The truth is I had a few glasses of wine so now I’m a little loopy and confused and normally we would be talking on the phone right now but we’re not because I told you to leave me alone and I kind of regret that.

Cora: Don’t judge me for that awful run on sentence. My eyes are bleeding just looking at it. Please delete it.

Cora: Anyway, I’m going to try and sleep. I don’t hate you. I know I said you’re holding me underwater but you’re the only thing keeping me afloat.

Cora: Goodnight.

Cora: Delete that run on sentence please.

I find myself smiling down at my phone, debating if I should reply, or if I should call her, or if I should Uber it over to her house and hold her until she falls asleep.

Maybe I should ignore her.

Maybe she was right about everything.

I tap my thumb against the side of my phone, pursing my lips together as I consider my next move.