'Tell me, how can I make it right?'
Fortunately, Simon has given me the rest of the day off, too aware of the fact that I can't do any good work when I'm elsewhere with my thoughts. Someday soon we'll have to talk, give credit to the changes that'll be inevitable. I'm no closer to any solution, but it just can't go on this way.
When I step inside the apartment and find the breakfast table just the way I left it this morning, I suppress an onslaught of anger, because it isn't like he's got anything to do, so is a little housework really too much to ask for? The moment is over before the thought actually manifests itself; I should know better than to blame him for something that's not his fault. Right, as if I didn't do that before. All the time.
Opening the doors to his room doesn't even wake Blair; which is astonishing. He's been so inactive lately, but still much more drained than a little while ago, when he used to burn the candle at both ends. Sometimes, it had been worrying me, but at least he had it together then.
So how of a part did *I* play in this development?
If I had stopped Alex before... if I hadn't brushed him off when he'd tried to tell me about her... if...
I don't even have to go any closer to conclude that he's been crying, I can actually taste the salt on my lips. I don't know why, but all of a sudden I'm shaking. Alex and the fountain; that day when I got the call from the hospital and they told me he'd been trying to take his own life, I just can't, I won't go through this again.
I guess I've never really allowed myself to feel how scared I am that he could make another suicide attempt, one that could be successful. It's there now, like a third person here in the room with us.
I just can't help it, I need that closeness now, to reassure myself of what I know is possible. A future. Maybe leave the loft, or even Cascade behind, start anew somewhere.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I'm trying to strip myself of all expectations or plans; it's just the here and now. Cautiously, as not to wake him, I lie down, and Blair, though still asleep, shifts a little, snuggling against me. Here, in the privacy of this moment, I can admit it - it wasn't all that long ago when this easy intimacy between us got me freaked; I never really told him, but that's a big part of those infamous fear-based responses he wrote about.
This - tenderness I feel for him.
It seems weird, peculiar somehow, but I can't keep denying it's there. Maybe that's what Alex was all about, plain and simple. Nothing that requires a complex sociobiological theory, but mere denial.
Those recent close calls make this touch of homophobia, if it's really that, look very ridiculous; I know where I stand, and of course it's nobody's business what it looks like.
If only the rest of it could be solved so easily.
Belatedly wondering what's in that little box that's sitting on the nightstand, I still don't know how to make it right, but for the moment, I'm just glad to be here.
May 6, 2005