Another week went by, and not a word from Thomas. I went back to my Vicodin, despite Mae’s protests. But she didn’t know I’d gotten into it again. Also, I’d heard about how some people were crushing the Vicodin and snorting it, so I tried that. Wow, what a high! I didn’t know if the intensity came from the fact that I’d been off it for awhile, but merde, how I missed that high!
Feeling good, I decided to text Thomas:
Can we meet again, I miss talking to you
It took about 20 minutes before a reply came:
I can meet you at the studio in 30 minutes, I need to shower
I texted back:
I got in the shower myself before heading over to the studio. I actually made it there before Thomas. My eyes widened upon seeing him walk through the door.. He was glowing pink from his shower, his brown curls were still wet, and his shirt was unbuttoned. Merde, I was in love. Thomas sat down on the edge of our studio’s sofa and began buttoning his shirt. Oh, how I wished he’d left it.
“Ça va, Guy?”
“Rien, I just wanted to see you.” I grabbed the bottle of wine that Thomas had brought with him. “It’s been a week, you know.”
“Has it? S-sorry, I didn’t realize.”
I sighed. I hated small talk between us, especially since we’d been best friends for nearly 25 years. “How’s the wife? She leave you yet?” Great. More small talk. I opened the wine and took a drink. I was still pretty high, and I needed a cigarette.
“Non, non… we’re doing fine.”
“Surely she hates me.” I took a cigarette out of my pack and lit it. I inhaled sharply, blowing the smoke up in the air. Thomas didn’t smoke, so I tried not to blow smoke his way.
“Eh… probably.” Thomas reclined back on the sofa, and I joined him, sitting on the opposite end. I inhaled some more of my cigarette, the impending nicotine rush intensifying my Vicodin high. God, I felt good.
“How’s Noah?” I questioned, reclining back and enjoying my chemicals.
“He’s fine.” Thomas replied. “A-a little weirded out, you are technically his uncle, a-after all.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Uh… look, Thomah. I need to know where we stand here.”
“I mean, are we a thing now? Like, how do we go on from here?”
“W-well… thing is, I’m m-married.”
“I know that, Thomah.”
“A-and… trying to be faithful.”
“Trying? Does that mean you’re blowing me off?”
Thomas looked crushed. “Look, Guy… I-I want this just as much as you. But, I have a wife. A-a son. A family, Guy. I-I can’t be fucking that up.”
I inhaled the last drag of my cigarette and stubbed it out angrily. “I fucking knew it. Putain!”
Before I could get up and bolt, Thomas got up and stood in front of me.
“Let me go, Thomah!” I tried to get away, but Thomas’ huge hands grabbed me by the shoulders.
“Non, Guillaume, I’m n-not letting you run.”
“Please…” I pleaded pitifully, tears forming in my eyes.
Thomas’ hands reached for mine. “I-I… I love you, Guy.”
My teary blue eyes looked into Thomas’ brown ones. I swallowed hard, really trying not to cry. “Well, then what, Thomah? You fucking love me? Then what?”
“I-I don’t know, Guy… I-I don’t fucking know…” He embraced me then, and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “I don’t know…”
My tears came crashing down. “I… I fucking love you too… Mon Dieu, help me, I fucking love you too…”
“Faithful” Thomas wasn’t so faithful that day.