Hangover
I HAD things I needed to do, so I couldn’t waste my time worrying about my boyfriend. I was rapidly coming to see that his problems were larger than I was capable of handling. As I sat at the table trying to write the last bits of the code for my program, I realized that I was too distracted to work. With finals just around the corner, that was absolutely the last place that I needed to be.
Hoping to snap myself out of my funk and then maybe get some work done, I changed into my running clothes and headed out to run for a while in the hopes that would clear my head and make me more able to focus and to think. Plugging the earbud headphones into my ears, I turned the music up loud, stretched, and then started my run.
And run I did—for eight miles, nine miles, ten miles. By that point I had been running regularly enough that I had developed several route options, several routes of different mileage durations. That way I knew how long I would be running, but also had some variety so that I wasn’t always looking at the same scenery.
When I finally got back home that day I noticed that the car was empty, so apparently my boyfriend had roused himself from his stupor. Heading into the apartment, I went directly into the bathroom to shower. Bill was in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, looking exceptionally green. I couldn’t deal with him right then, so I ignored him, turned on the shower, and climbed in to wash off the sweat from my run.
Refreshed from my shower, I toweled off, noticing that Bill hadn’t moved. I’d been there once myself, so I knew that there was nothing I could do to help him at this point. I headed into the bedroom, turning off the bathroom light, assuming that the light would be another irritant for him in his present condition.
Slipping into something soft and fuzzy and warm and comforting, I grabbed my laptop computer and headed outside to the pool area to get some work done. I had been right to take the break to run. The run had cleared my head and let me focus on my coding work. With an hour of work, I was able to finish my class project.
The big test came when I tried to execute my code. And yes! It worked! It even produced the results that I expected, which was even better. Having code that worked is one thing. Having code that worked and gave you the anticipated result was an entirely different matter.
Even though I saved my work obsessively, I saved it again now that I had a working model. Not taking any chances, I also backed up my files to a server in the cloud so that if anything happened to my laptop, my work would not all be lost.
Since I had allotted far more time to this task than it ended up taking, I decided to start on a paper I had to write for another class. I had done all of the background reading and, as with the computer program, had it all outlined in my head. Opening up my word processing program, I thought for a minute, trying to find exactly the right words to start with.
And then the words appeared in my head. And I smiled because they were perfect. My fingers started flying across the keys of my laptop. My opening sentence logically led into another sentence, and then another. Those sentences tied into another paragraph, which led into another. Before I knew it, I had written two pages. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all, I thought to myself as I obsessively saved my work.
But before I could write another word on page three, I noticed movement from toward the apartment. I sat and silently watched Bill walk slowly out of the apartment and move carefully toward where I sat at the table. I stayed silent, simply watching him as he moved into a chair across the table from me.
He kept looking at me, but when I didn’t say anything, only stared at him with a neutral expression on my face, he said, “How did I get back here? Did I drive?”
I remained silent for a moment, studying him. “I’ll answer your last question first. No, you did not drive. I brought you home after Derrick dumped your drunken ass on me at work. He helped me get you loaded into the car, but when I got here there was no one to help me so I left you where you were. I couldn’t lift you on my own.”
“Thanks.” I stared at him for a few additional minutes, which apparently was making him feel uncomfortable. “Mark, why are you staring at me so intently?”
I sighed and decided that if he wanted to know then I was going to tell him. “Bill, you know that I love you with every fiber of my being.” I paused to organize my thoughts. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having you disappear for days on end with no word of where you’ve gone. You left me here not knowing if you were dead or alive. You left me here with not one single word about what was going on in your head.
“Well, I have a revelation for you: I’m not a mind reader. I cannot simply look at you and know what you’re thinking or what you’re feeling. I need you to speak words to me to explain things to me.
“I’m truly sorry about the mess that you’ve had to contend with these last few months. Trust me, it’s been no walk in the park for me either.”
“But?” he said.
“I can’t keep doing this. If this is going to be the way it goes, then I think you need to go somewhere else to do it.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky.
It was time for my equivalent of shock therapy for Bill. “I’m saying that if this is the way you intend to continue, then I think you need to move out. You’re dragging me down, Bill. You’re distracting me from school. I’m paying a boatload of money to get an education—an education that I thought you wanted as well. Just because you are crashing and burning does not mean that I’m going to crash and burn with you. I will help you in any way I can, but your timing sucks! Class projects and papers are due in a few days. Finals are next week. I cannot afford to have spent all this money, all this time, only to blow it in the home stretch. You are a distraction I cannot afford.
“As I told you earlier, I love you deeply. It is killing me that you don’t seem to love yourself anymore. And there is nothing I can do about that. That is something you have to work out on your own. And you need to go somewhere else to do it.”
“You’re asking me to move out?”
“If this is the way things are going to go, then I want you to move out. And the sooner the better. It will absolutely break my heart and rip me apart inside once again, but I’ve already been through this twice now. And I will not go through this a third time.”
Bill looked miserable. I wanted to comfort him, but I stayed still. He needed to see that these were desperate circumstances and that he had to make a decision. I dearly hoped that he was getting the message that we couldn’t go on. He was weeping across the table from me. I fought down every instinct in my body and remained in my chair.
“Mark!” he cried. “Please! Please don’t leave me! I need you!”
“You have a most unusual way of showing that,” I said quietly.
“I’m so sorry! I screwed up so badly! My entire life has been such a total train wreck since last December. I cannot tell you how much I wish I had never gone to Australia. My place wasn’t there. It was here with you. I love you!” he cried some more. I sat still and let him. I needed to see where he was going.
“Bill, I love you. I will always love you. But I’m carrying a huge burden all by myself and have been for too long. I’m getting worn out. I’m tired. I need a break. I’ve needed you to help pick up some of the load and help me before the weight crushes me. But you’ve not done that. You’ve only added to the weight I’ve got on my back already. I love you, but I’ve got to survive, and I can’t do that with you like this. If this is what you’re going to be doing, then you need to go inside now, pack your stuff, and get out.”
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I’ll be better.”
“I don’t even know if you’re able to be better, because I don’t really know what’s going on with you anymore.”
“Let’s go inside and have sex,” he said. “You said you wanted to have sex.”
“Oh, yes, sex with a hungover drunk. Now doesn’t that sound appealing.” Maybe a bit too much bitterness came through in my voice. “Come back to me with that proposal in twenty-four to forty-eight hours when you’re sober and your head isn’t exploding and your stomach isn’t in outright rebellion and then we’ll talk. But until then, I’ve got to work on this paper. I’ve written two pages, but I still have eight more to write. I know you don’t have a clue about this. I realized just now that you haven’t once asked me about my classes since you’ve been back. You sat in on that one class with me, but otherwise, I don’t think you even know what classes I’m taking, do you?”
He shook his head, looking even more pitiful. He was crying once again.
“I need to get back to work. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
“I’m sorry. I promise that I’ll be better. I’ve let you down, and I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Everything’s been such a mess since—”
I cut him off. “Bill! Stop it! That’s the past. It’s over. You can’t change the past. I can’t change the past. It was. It’s gone. What you need to focus on is not what’s behind you, but what’s in front of you!”
And I was shocked because he really seemed to listen to me. He really seemed to understand what I was saying. He seemed to pull himself together quite suddenly when I said that. I was surprised. I hadn’t rehearsed the words—they had simply come out of my mouth unplanned and unrehearsed.
“You’re right. You are usually right. And you are definitely right this time about this. I… I… thank you. I can’t believe what a fool I’ve been. I’ve been wallowing in what’s gone. I’ve been stuck in quicksand, sinking, and was dragging you down with me. You’re right.” He smiled a little. Wow! “You’re right.” He stood up. “I love you, you wise man. Now, I’m going to go inside and take a shower and change clothes. I reek. Then I’m going to take a fistful of Advil, drink some water, lay down for a while, and then tomorrow start to work on putting myself back together. Thank you for helping me see what I couldn’t see on my own.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him as well. I stood up and gave him a hug. A longer hug would have been good, but he was right—he reeked—and a longer hug wouldn’t have been enjoyable.
“Go. Take a shower. Get some sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow morning. Then we’ll talk some more.”
“I will. Thanks.” He started toward the house but stopped, turned back to me, and said, “You are the love of my life.” And he walked back into the apartment.
Once again, though, my mind was now anywhere but where it needed to be. I wasn’t able to focus on my writing anymore. The words that had flowed so smoothly just wouldn’t come any longer. I tried mightily, but it just wasn’t there. Finally I gave up and just closed my laptop. It was starting to get cooler anyway, so I needed to head inside.
I could hear the shower running in the bathroom so I knew that Bill was still in there. When the water turned off, he opened the door to the shower to find me waiting for him, holding up a towel. Even in his hungover state, the man still got me excited. Damn, but he was hot. Even though he was sort of out of shape, he still retained that sultriness that I had seen in him in the beginning.
Drying off his back, I wrapped the towel around his shoulders and then wrapped my arms around his arms. Neither of us said a word. We didn’t have to speak to communicate.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” I asked.
“For being you.” I couldn’t see his face directly, but I could see it in the mirror—he was smiling.
I slapped his bare ass and left the room. I heard the water running in the sink, assuming that he was brushing his teeth. When he came out of the bathroom I was in the bedroom. I had straightened the sheets and blankets, neatening the bed for him. I held the covers up for him to climb into bed.
“Did you get some ibuprofen?”
“No, I forgot,” he said as he started to get up again.
“Stay there. I’ll get it for you.”
A moment later I returned, handed him two ibuprofen tablets and a bottle of cold water. He took the pills and drank probably half the bottle of water. Alcohol dehydrates the body. He needed to rehydrate, or his headache would continue and even get worse.
“Thank you,” he said, giving me another of his smiles. “Thank you.” He took my hand and gently kissed the knuckles. And I nearly fell over on top of him in lust. That simple move on his part simply had to be one of the sexiest moves I have ever seen one man do for another. I think I shuddered—and not in a bad way.
“Get some sleep, my love,” I said as I kissed his forehead and turned off the light.
I left him to rest in peace while I fixed something simple for my dinner.