Proxy [l.h]

12. Drinking Problems and Confessions

"No, you don't. You can do that tomorrow," I tell him anyway, trying to haul him out of the bathroom. It was no time to shave, it was time to get him to bed where he won't make any more of a mess. But halfway to the door, Luke grabs onto the sink and doesn't budge. Even drunk, he's much stronger than me. Screaming like a banshee, he tries to rip his arm out of my grasp as if in a battle of tug of war. I slip onto my bottom in defeat as he finally wrenches his arm out of my hands and violently throws opens the drawer of the sink. He takes out a small razor and a convenient bottle of shaving cream and immediately starts smearing the foam all over his face. This is a bad idea. I can already tell by the lack of focus in his eyes, and those shaky hands that possibly can't get anywhere near his face without drawing blood.

"Luke-" I begin.

"I need to shave!" He yelps at me, turning back to the mirror with the razor poised over his chin.

"Give it to me, then," I say finally, gently pulling the thing out of his hands. To my relief, he doesn't protest any further. Pulling him towards the tub, I keep Luke sitting on the edge and me right across from him. He starts fidgeting immediately, his eyes shifting and flitting. He doesn't reek so much anymore. The smell of the minty shaving cream on his chin fills my nose instead.

I've never used one of these before, but it's the same thing as a woman's razor, I tell myself. I can't help but think about how nervous I am that my hand might slip and I'll hurt him. I hate blood and I hate hurting people even more. With a shaky hand not better than Luke's, I take the razor to his chin, blowing out a breath.

"Be careful," Luke mumbles grumpily, his eyes closed, his face just inches away.

I push myself forward. Gliding the razor across the side of his chin, I take some of the shaving cream with it, revealing a smooth line of his skin. Not bad, a little uneven but overall, not bad. Leaning in, I wipe some of the cream away on my finger and start on the next strip. Hours seem to pass. I work from the underside of his chin to the top, repeating it in almost a calming sense. Slowly, Luke seems to settle down as well, and he's no longer yelling or squirming. His shoulders move up and down as he breathes deeply, and doesn't say anything.

I hadn't realized how hard I'd been concentrating when I look up to see that Luke had opened his eyes long ago, his eyes drifting towards mine.

I look away as soon as our eyes meet, but see him still staring. My eyes flinch towards him, then back, my cheeks burning.

"I'm going to tell you," Luke says seriously. He tries to shift his position on the edge to lean forward and almost falls into the tub. I quickly grab his shoulder and keep him balanced.

"What?" I reply, my voice getting quieter.

Luke leans in suddenly, making me draw in a breath. In my ear he whispers: "What happened in January. Two years ago."

I put down the razor. "What are you talking about?"

Luke looks me straight in the eyes. "I didn't meet Jane at the hospital," he says, his words running together. "I met her at the literal brink of death, at the weakest moment of my life."

I stiffen, but at the same time he grabs my attention. I'm not exactly surprised that he'd lied about meeting Jane at the hospital. It's obvious there was always a story behind their meeting, and there was an entire portion of it that I hadn't heard about. I know I should probably stop him now because if he'd kept it from me for this long, he probably doesn't want to tell me because of a drunken mistake. But I can't help my eagerness to hear something new-possibly the truth. Because the truth always comes out when you're drunk, right?