Don't Look Down

thirty-six: don't give me that shit

The life we deserve–the one we've earned. Where we find jobs we love, in an apartment that's become a home. Nothing but laughter and intimacy to get us through the hurtles.

"That life's not an option anymore. Calvin's promised to make sure of that if I don't meet up with him tonight." He swallows, losing steam, then takes a deep breath. "I won't let him hurt you again."

There he is. The Seth who just wants to protect me, same as I do with him.

It has me closing the remaining space between us. "Then I can go to my mother for help. Calvin's a businessman. I go to her and make a deal, offer something, my time, weekends with them to maintain a good public image, anything, in return for money. We'll buy your freedom and include Marsha's as part of the deal."

"Not a chance in hell. You're not sacrificing your distance from them for me." He reaches for his items, but I shift to block his path. He glares at me. "It won't work anyway. Look, I'll just do whatever the hell Calvin needs me to tonight and be done with it."

"Until he needs you again."

"So what?" He lifts both his hands to his hairline. They smash against his scalp, stretching his skin. "This is my life; it was fucking stupid to think it could be anything else."

"It can be. We can make it possible."

His hands fall and he shakes his head, throwing the fury from his expression so guilt can make its way in. When he speaks, his voice is no longer elevated. Just desolate. "But what am I doing to yours in the process?"

Dread creeps down my spine—cold and ominous. My skin tingles. "I don't get where you're going with this."

"You were doing just fine before me." He's focused on my bookshelf, avoiding my reaction, like he can't stomach the acceptance he might find.

But he won't find what has him so tentative. My fingers touch the base of his chin, pulling his focus up so he's forced to witness that fact. "I'm doing fine now."

"No, you're not." With a frustrated sigh, he reaches for me. His fingers dip into my neck, careless and desperate. "How can you not see that? You don't have a job because I pushed you to stand up to your dickhead of a boss. Your best friend is being sucked into my world because you didn't feel comfortable telling her about my shit. You were hurt today because I couldn't resist clocking your step-father in the face and landed myself in jail. And now you're considering bargaining with your mother and re-entering her life because I was too idiotic to make the right choices when I was a teenager. You wouldn't be dealing with any of this if I hadn't shown up."

He closes his eyes, failing to hide the shame I'd just seen trapped in them. "I'm destroying your life."

Of course he'd blame this all on himself. It's what he does. But life is messy and obstacles will always need to be overcome. Doesn't mean he gets to own them all. Nor does he get to take responsibility for the decisions I make to defeat them.

My blood pulses as I wait for him to open his eyes. I won't speak what I have to without his full attention, because he needs to hear what I have to say—actually hear it. It takes a total of ten seconds for his curiosity to get the best of him. Yes, I count. And when I see that devastating brown emerge, I speak to him with utmost certainty.

"The choices I make, they're mine." He opens his mouth in a rebuttal, but I don't give him the chance. "I quit my job because I deserved better and I'll find something else. I didn't tell Marsha about you because I thought keeping her in the dark was the best option. You were in jail because you stood up for me. And yes, I was hurt today but that's on Calvin, not you. I was only able to hold my own because you taught me how."