The Contradiction of Solitude(37)

“Tell me about your friends.”

Distance. Safe. Away.

Elian sat up now that we weren’t touching. He pulled the blanket to cover him. Our nakedness making us too vulnerable.

“They’re all right. Just some people I met through the studio,” he dismissed. Not important. He didn’t care. I could see that.

“What about the girl?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Jealous. Mean. Spiteful.

I hated and hated.

“What girl?” he evaded. Not looking at me when I knew he wanted to. The smile he tried to hide gave him away. He liked my jealousy.

So I gave it to him.

“That bitch that you slept with.”

Elian’s mouth dropped open. I had shocked him. I gave him a tiny smile of my own.

“How did you know about that?” He wasn’t denying it. I knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that sort of person. He was the good kind.

“That day in the park, it was all over her face. She hated me on sight. She doesn’t know me, but she didn’t have to. You wanted to be with me. She wanted to be with you.” I shrugged, pulling my hair over my shoulder.

Elian watched my face, his eyes falling to my hair draped across my chest.

“Does it bother you? Knowing she and I were together?” he asked, licking his lips, his green eyes bright. Hopeful.

“Yes,” I said.

“It’s over. There’s no one else.” Necessary assurances given eagerly.

“I know.”

He reached for me and I went to him. He held me close and I let him fold me in. Tight. Together.

“Did you leave anyone behind in Norton Hill? Is there anyone out there loving you? Waiting for you to come back?” Elian asked, kissing the top of my head. I let my lips linger in the hollow of his throat. Just there.

“No,” I murmured against his heartbeat. I thought of love and loss. Of ghosts and haunted memories. Of monsters ever present.

“No one.”

“Who are you, Layna Whitaker?”

I should tell him. Shine light on my withering darkness. But I liked being alone with my secrets. They deserved to be kept.

Truth was the only enemy.

It was the echo of a mutinous scream. Angry at being released on an unready world.



“Would you be willing to hang out with my friends tonight?” Elian asked. We were dressed and having coffee in my kitchen. I never had people in my home. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

But Elian conformed to the space around him. Fitting in unobtrusively.

His question, however, irritated me.

“With your friends?” I asked, handing him a spoon to stir his drink. The sun was finally starting to go down. I felt as though it had been in the sky for far too long. I felt more relaxed once the light dimmed.

Elian laughed a little, sounding strained. “Yeah, my friends. Tate’s having a few people over to watch the UFC match on pay-per-view. I just thought it might be nice. You know, because we’re…uh…well, you’re my…”

I let him flounder. I didn’t define the role he was trying to place on me.

I refused.

“Anyway, I just thought you could get to know them. They’re decent enough guys.” He stirred his coffee, the spoon clanging against the side of the mug.

“Are they?” I asked.

He stopped stirring and put the spoon on the table, sticky, brown liquid pooling on the surface.

I gritted my teeth.

“Yes, they are,” he said firmly. He seemed flustered. Thinking about my question. Letting it ruminate.

“Okay,” I agreed.

He looked happy. Relieved.

I wasn’t either of those things.

Not now.

Maybe later.



Tate still lived with his parents, who happened to be out of town. The first thing I noticed as we walked into the small bungalow was the smell of stale cigarettes and nachos.

The sounds of yelling from somewhere within had me slowing my steps and taking my time.

No need to rush forward.

I wasn’t there by choice.

Elian had gone home to shower and change, leaving me alone for only forty-five minutes. I barely had time to register he was gone by the time he had come back.

He was happy. So happy. He wanted to show off his pretty new girl to his ill begotten friends.

His pretty new girl wanted nothing to do with ill begotten friends.

She wanted Dancing Green Eyes, joyful and full, all to herself.

The house was small and unloved. Falling apart and to the brim with neglect.

More shouting.

Laughter.

Noise.

I wanted to leave.

Elian’s grip on my hand was so tight it hurt. I gripped his just as painfully. He didn’t mind. He was holding my hand. He was ready to present me to the only people in his life.

The people that he had chosen to let into his make believe world.

I was curious about this Elian he had given them.

Because I knew it wasn’t the real one.

The one from Diamond Creek, Pennsylvania.

So while I would rather take him away from all of this, to keep him with me always, I’d bide my time. So I could see the show he chose to perform.

“Elian! My man! You made it! The match has already started!” The person I knew as Tate, waved from a threadbare couch in the center of a cluttered living room. Tacky curtains and nicotine-stained walls did little mask the smell of decay that hung in the air.