iMeet Cute | ✓

↺ 014 : hangouts, hangovers & Thai food

CJ slumped into a booth. I followed suit. "I want drunken noodles." Touché. From her words I figured I was the one paying. "What are you getting?"

"Pad Thai." I drummed my fingers on the table.

"Awesome." She set her brows in a straight line and leaned forward. "So, to set things straight, my head hurts like hell right now for some reason. I'm pretty damn sure hangovers don't last this long. Anyway, about what happened, do you think that maybe there's a reason he's not said anything?"

I shrugged and averted my eyes. "It's not been that long."

"Pshh." She flicked her wrist at me. "Lenny, that's bullshit. Fuck it, I'm hungry." Slamming her palms on the table, she got up and stalked to the counter to place our orders.

And so I was left with silence, thoughts, and incomplete research on ableism and what it means to be ableist, but at least my eyes had been opened to a new understanding. I understood that I was a terrible person, among other things. A coward was one of those things. I was also ... desperate? Was I really, or was it one of those thoughts birthed by insecurities?

I fiddled with my thumbs, biting my lip, and glaring hard at the black screen of my cellphone as if that would make it light up. Since when do you wait on a text? I asked myself. Since forever, was my answer. I'd been this way for as long as I could remember, and I didn't know for certain if it was a bad trait or not. What the fuck is desperation? At least I'm not clingy.

But I was.

For as long as I could remember, not once had I been on my own. Sure, I had the occasional Lenny Time, and I had my own bedroom and all that, but all through school, childhood, early adolescence, I was surrounded by people. So much so that it felt a little like I was suffocating, but I didn't know any different. They were a sort of solace, my safe haven. I thought if I had those people, they could be a shield. But what was I trying to protect myself from?

I was only just starting to realize the friendships were nothing but superficial. How many of those 'friends' did I even keep in touch with? How many names could I recall?

Once I ended things with August, I attached myself to my sister. I even made conscious effort to spend more time with Keegan, which I now realize was a huge fucking deal. The thought made me smile somberly.

When Leah left for California, I fell into this weird state where everything was the same and I felt nothing at all. That was the worst part; the lack of motivation. My lost drive. I hated August, blamed him for stripping me of my humanity, of my ability to feel. It took me nearly a year to figure out that the problem wasn't him.

Of course he still had a part in it. He was the mastermind behind the entire thing. He'd carefully orchestrated the demise of my self-confidence, and I knew it wasn't deliberate. I knew that, but what was I supposed to do? Blame myself?

August Wilder needed to seek professional help, and that was that. It was no longer my problem to deal with. He was no longer my problem to deal with.

My phone lit up, sending vibrations through my hands. Lazily, my eyes glazed over the screen, nearly popping out of their sockets when I read the caller ID. I quickly grabbed it and pressed it to my ear.

"Hello? Nash?"

"Hi, Lenny." His voice was a breath of fresh air. "Are you busy?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Lenny."

"Then why do you sound so distraught?"

"Because." I could almost hear his smile.