Alive

Chapter 5

Oliver

(Saturday, May 4)

I blew it.

That's all I can think about as Arlo hauls me through my apartment door and dumps me on my couch. A girl willingly takes her clothes off in front of me, and all I can do is stare. Blurt out some kind of cringy pick up line. Yeah, I was drunk. Still am. But I'm sober enough to recognize a wasted opportunity when I see one. It's been forever since the last time I got laid. Tonight should've broken the drought.

Arlo's lecturing me. I've heard the sermon a million times, so it's even harder to control the fantasies. The way things should have gone. I can't help it. Elle's got more than just a cute face, a fact her baggy clothes hid from me until tonight. I'm generally a boob guy, but right now I can't get her legs out of my head. Thick, but in a strong way, her calves curving down to a jutting ankle bone and soft feet. At least, they feel soft to the me in my mind. The guy running his hands over them and—

"Are you even listening to me?" Arlo knocks me over the head. The second I meet his eyes, the fantasy disperses. I wish it didn't. It was a lot nicer than the look Arlo's wearing. It's the one he always gets when I push him too far.

"Yeah," I say, sitting up and rubbing my temples. "I should take my pills, stop drinking, clean my apartment."

Those are always the main points in his speeches. He stares at me hard, his jaw tense. Then he lets his breath out.

"I've been thinking." He stoops down to retrieve the orange pill bottle, turning it a couple times before looking up. "Have you thought about taking a break from drama?"

If he didn't have my attention before, he has it now. It's one thing for me to say I'll quit acting. I say that a lot. But Arlo's not depressed. He's never brought it up before.

"Look," he says, sighing as he sits on the TV stand. I don't like all these pauses he's taking. He leans forward, passing the bottle from one hand to the other. "These work. You've said so yourself."

"I'm not quitting," I say.

"Hear me out," he says, holding up the pills. "Drama's the only reason you go off meds. That's what you said, right? So what about trying something else? Something...I don't know...less demanding."

Arlo's not supposed to be like this. Arlo's the only one not like this. He makes me take my meds, sure. But the tone is different right now. He's exhausted. Tired of me. Like everyone else. Damn it. I'm not drunk enough for this.

"Like what?" I ask, spitting the words out at him.

"Maybe nothing at first," he says, shrugging. "Focus on your job, figure out what you want."

"I know what I want." I reach to pet Kyle as he jumps up beside me. But maybe I don't, because I can't really think of anything to say to prove it.

"Really?" Arlo presses his hands against his legs, leaning forward. "Enlighten me."

"I'm an actor," I say. I don't like it when he gets this intense. It makes my words trip out, like I'm nervous or unsure, even when I'm not. "Drama's what I do. It's my life. You know that."

"Okay," he says. "But is it worth this?" He motions around us. I'm not sure if he means the garbage bags in the corner or my dirty clothes or the macaroni and cheese residue on the counter or... Fuck it. He means all of it. I don't say anything, maybe because there's nothing to say. So Arlo talks instead. "You're an incredible actor, Olly. I don't want you to throw that away. But I also care about you. I want you to be—"