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Jordan is asleep and snoring, her hair fluttering in her face. She didn't want to fuck tonight. You acted disappointed, but it was a relief; you can only grit your teeth and pretend for so long. You didn't have to ask why she wasn't in the mood, of course. Over the course of this relationship, if it's anything like a relationship, you've caught her in the act with all kinds of other people. Making out with Barbie is a new one, but you should have seen it coming. God knows she's probably exhausted every man in the hospital, and has gone on to prey on the female residents, relatively fresh out of med school and still a little confused about that one morning they woke up in bed with their roommate. Which makes you just so different, of course, but at least you have the common sense and dignity to keep it to yourself. And it doesn't count when the man in question is, for all intents and purposes, a woman. You've made this very clear. Of course, you're the one up nights, staring at the ceiling until your eyes water, focusing intently on not thinking about it, not thinking about it, not thinking about it, goddamnit. But everyone knows how pointless it is trying not to think about something, and night after night, you just sit there and brood like a sappy idiot. You've seen the kid crash and burn in an endless string of relationships over the past few years. He'll chase after anything with a vagina. You've been very, very aware of the fact. But once he catches her, he has no idea what to do. It's easy and probably reasonable to be discouraged, but then you remember that it wasn't too long ago that you were the same way. Hiding. You're not ashamed of yourself. God, no, that's not it at all. It's just easier. Oh, Jesus Christ, you interrupt yourself, realizing that you're analyzing something. I swear, the longer this goes on… I'm getting more like him every day. You sigh, and you really want to punch yourself for it, but it's late and you're tired. And it wasn't a sigh. It was a manly grunt of general discontent. You roll over and flip out the lamp, hoping that tomorrow he'll break up with his idiot of a girlfriend. Even though you know he won't, there's always the chance that she'll dump his ass, and then… maybe he'll come around. In your dreams, Per, you think, closing your eyes. In your dreams. |
Honest Words You Can't Afford To Say
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