The Turning Point

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE- IF I WERE YOU, I WOULDN'T LOVE ME EITHER

Heloyse

When I woke up, night had already fallen. Shadows filled the room as I got up with a heavy, almost dragging body. I walked to the bathroom, where the cold light illuminated a version of myself that I barely recognized. Sunken eyes, empty gaze. I washed my face, as if that could wash away the feeling of being stuck in the same place, in my old sorrows.
Since Michael left my life, it was as if the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. I fell, shattered, and stayed at the bottom for a long time. This time, however, it had to be different. I needed to react and not allow myself to return to that state.
Cielo had insisted several times, "You need to go out." Maybe she was right.
Without thinking too much, I opened the closet and grabbed the first clothes I saw. Jeans, a white shirt, and a random jacket. I put on my shoes and grabbed the truck keys. In the city, the streets were alive. The contrast between the life outside and the emptiness inside me was almost suffocating. I drove aimlessly until I parked in front of Duran's Club, a bar that mixed loud music and strong drinks.
Inside, the noise was almost deafening. The place was packed, but I felt even more alone. I sat at the counter, looking for something-maybe relief, maybe distraction. When the bartender approached, I hesitated. Kamikaze or Wild Turkey? I opted for whiskey.
As I downed the glass, a group of guys at a nearby table caught my attention. One of them raised his glass to me with an inviting smile. I smiled back, automatically, and downed the rest of my drink. I didn't want company. Soon, some girls joined them, and I stayed in my place, alone.
"Another?" the bartender asked, already holding the bottle.
"Yes." My voice was low, almost a murmur.
He filled the glass, and after a moment of hesitation, asked:
"Things aren't going well?"
I gave a bitter smile, swirling the glass in my hand.
"They never are. At least, not with me."
He let out a brief, humorless laugh.
"I know it sounds cliché, but getting drunk won't solve anything."
"Who said I'm trying to solve anything?" I retorted, a little annoyed.
"I'm just saying... I've been doing this for years. I know how to recognize the look, the pattern. They come in alone, order whiskey, repeat the dose, stare into space, and before they know it, they're crying and spilling their guts."
I rolled my eyes, shaking the empty glass.
"Well, I guarantee I'm not one of those people. Now, please, just do your job."
But half an hour later, there I was, with teary eyes, pouring my heart out to the same bartender. He listened patiently as I spilled words that burned in my throat.
"They always leave," I said, my voice choked up. "Michael made me believe he loved me. Pretended for nine years. And Will... When we kiss, it's like the world stops, but he never stays. It's like I'm a mistake in his life."
"You should show him what they're missing."
"How? By making him jealous?"
He raised his eyebrows, laughing.
"Maybe."
"And with whom? With you?"
"Definitely not. I'm allergic to women."
"You're gay?"
"Obviously," he said, putting his hand on his hip.
He smiled, satisfied to have broken the weight of the moment.
Later, Ralf said goodbye, wishing me good luck. But I wasn't ready to leave. I ordered a daiquiri, a disastrous mix with the whiskey. The alcohol started to weigh me down, and as I got off the stool, I felt my legs wobble. I was dizzy, but I didn't care.
I went to the dance floor, closing my eyes as I let the music guide me. I've never been good at it, but I moved my body as best I could. That's when I felt hands on my waist. When I opened my eyes, I saw Johnson, a familiar face in the crowd.
"Johnson?" My voice was surprised, almost relieved. Without thinking, I hugged him.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" He smiled, letting go of me. "Who did you come with?"
"No one. I just needed to get out."
He nodded, watching me for a moment before taking my hand and leading me to the bar.
"Two cosmopolitans," he ordered, before turning to me. "You look beautiful."
"Don't exaggerate. I just put on whatever was handy."
"And even so, you nailed it."
I laughed, but looked away.
"Thom and Cielo wouldn't approve of you coming here."
"They're at Jeremy's house. I thought they'd sleep there."
"And you? Why did you come?"
"I just wanted to put my thoughts in order."
"As if a bar would solve anything."
"When you're drunk, sometimes it does," I said sarcastically.
He looked at me, serious, as if trying to read my thoughts.
"It's because of O'Connor, isn't it?"
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the truth in those words.
"I just want you to be okay, Lisy. He doesn't deserve you."
"Why do you care so much?"
He hesitated, then took my hand, holding it carefully.
"Because I fell in love with you, from the moment I saw you."
"Johnson... No."
He looked at me for long seconds, with a look that mixed sadness and resignation, before giving the most awkward smile I'd ever seen. Without saying anything, he took my hand and led me to the dance floor, where the music pulsed like the heart of someone trying to forget.
The lights spun in rapid movements, vibrant colors that masked any expression of pain. No one could see my face or notice the weight I carried. The drink began to numb my body, leaving me light, almost floating, but inside me the whirlwind remained.
Johnson danced beside me, trying to wrap me in gentle hugs. I, however, always found a way to pull away, not wanting to cling to that overwhelmingly sincere kindness. Gradually, I got lost in the crowd, joining a group that danced erratically, laughing loudly and shaking glasses of drinks.
I threw smiles that were nothing more than masks, but no one seemed to notice. Everyone was too busy in their own drunken euphorias. The only one who remained firmly sober was Johnson, his eyes never leaving me.
Despite being drunk, there was still lucidity inside me. This wasn't what I wanted. When I decided to react, I didn't imagine it would mean losing myself like this. I didn't plan to drown my emptiness in alcohol, but there I was, exactly like that.
My eyes sought Johnson in the crowd, and a stubborn question echoed in my mind: why not him? He was so kind, so constant, so safe. After Michael, why did my heart choose Will? Why couldn't it be different?
Taken by an impulse, I grabbed Johnson's arm and pulled him closer to the bar. He followed without hesitation, confused but willing. I said nothing. I just looked at him, at the kindness in his eyes that didn't seem to deserve the confusion of my feelings.
Then, without warning, I leaned in and kissed him. I put my lips on his, trying to find in that gesture an answer or perhaps relief for the chaos that consumed me.
Johnson wrapped me in his arms and returned the kiss. For a moment, he whispered, his voice choked with worry:
"You're drunk, Lisy."
But I didn't listen. I went back to putting my lips on his, seeking in him an escape, a momentary refuge. The kiss was good, almost like tasting something sweet for the first time and discovering you like it. But it didn't have the same flavor as Will's kiss. Will's was like an addictive substance, impossible to resist.
When our lips finally parted, Johnson looked at me with such passion that I felt a discomfort, a pang of guilt in my chest. We hugged for a few seconds until, between the frantic lights and the pulsating sound, I saw him.
Will was a few feet away, leaning against the counter. Patsy was next to him, leaning in, saying something in his ear. I remained in Johnson's arms, but my eyes were fixed on Will's. Our eyes met, locking in a silent conversation, full of confrontations and resentments.
Then, Johnson held my face with both hands and kissed me again. This time, I returned without hesitation, trying to drown in the gesture the turmoil inside me.
"I still can't believe it," he said, his voice hoarse after ending the kiss. "I'm afraid this is only happening because you drank. But I want to believe that, tomorrow, you'll still want me."
"Johnson..."
My voice hesitated. I couldn't finish the sentence, because Will got up at that moment, took Patsy's hand and whispered something close to her ear. She laughed, and so did he.
He wore black jeans, an unbuttoned shirt at the collar, and shoes of the same color. His hair was tied in a bun, and the black cord hung around his neck like a signature of his charm.
"Damn sexy" a truth impossible to deny.
Will passed us without even looking at me, while Patsy smiled devilishly, as if she had won some game. They walked together to the dance floor, and I squeezed Johnson's hand, pulling him in the same direction.
I needed to show that he didn't affect me.
Let the games begin, I murmured to myself.
While our partners had their backs to each other, our eyes remained connected. It was almost impossible to ignore Will's sensuality dancing. He moved with a mesmerizing precision, dominating the space around him. Everything seemed small next to him, as if the energy of the room orbited around him.
Patsy was sliding her hands over his abdomen and twerking provocatively. I felt an irrational urge to pull her away, to snatch him from those hands. I wanted to scream, but I held back, swallowing the jealousy that burned in my throat.
As I danced, Johnson stood before me, watching my body move with a clear desire in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed myself to twerk slowly, letting the music guide me.
But even so, my gaze was on Will. He danced with Patsy, his hands on her waist, and his eyes, burning and challenging, were fixed on me. It was like a silent duel, full of provocations and repressed desires.
The music seemed to speak for him, for us.

I love her, so I leave her. And if it were you, I wouldn't love me eithe

I closed my eyes, feeling the beats of the music mix with the accelerated rhythm of my heart. Johnson pulled me closer, held my face, and kissed me again. But while his lips touched mine, my mind was far away, imagining Will. The taste, the touch, the warmth I so desired.
I opened my eyes, and there he was, the dominant figure as always, with Patsy in his arms. She was glued to him, while his hands explored her body with an intimacy that tore me apart.
The music whispered like a confession:

I love her, so I leave her

And then, he kissed her. That kiss that should have been mine. He touched another skin, other lips, while I felt myself shatter. When they pulled away, he interlaced his fingers with hers and walked towards the exit. And he was gone.
I stood still, Johnson's lips still saying something I couldn't hear.
"Lisy! Did you hear me?" he insisted, his voice full of concern.
"Yes... It's just..."
"What is it? Are you okay?"
"I... I think I drank too much."
Before he could say anything else, I pulled away and ran through the people, pushing the nearest door. It led to the back of the bar, where the cold air and the smell of garbage hit me all at once.
"Lisy, wait!"
"Leave me alone, Johnson! Please. I want to be alone."
He didn't listen. He caught up with me and hugged me, as if trying to protect me from something I didn't even know what it was.
"Tell me what's going on. I'm here to help."
"Forgive me."
"Forgive you for what?"
"For the kiss. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have done that."
"No... Don't say that. Don't say you regret it. Just let me try to win you over."
"It's not fair... Not to you, not to me."
"Lisy..."
"Johnson, I'm going to end up hurting you."
He was silent, the pain evident in his eyes.
"You're in love with him, aren't you?"
I didn't answer.
"Aren't you, Lisy?" Johnson's voice echoed in a shout, and I was startled. "It's always like this. My sister, Mary, Patsy, all the other women... And now you. They all want him."
"I'm not interested in him. I don't want anything with him."
"You lie so badly, Lisy. You're in love with him, aren't you? Tell me the truth. Did you kiss me to relieve the frustration of being unrequited? Was it to pretend I was him? Or was it because you couldn't stand seeing him with Patsy?"
"What? You saw them?"
"Of course I did. And it's not the first time he's shown up here with someone. It never will be. And you? Have you slept with him too? Because it's always like this, isn't it? They give themselves to him, and after that, it seems like nothing else in the world exists besides that damn guy."
"I've never slept with Will."
"Then you must have some problem, because you seem to be the only one he hasn't taken yet. And that's destroying you, isn't it?"
The slap I gave was so hard that my hand throbbed the moment it touched his face. Johnson put his hand to his cheek, his surprised expression turning into something hard to decipher. He took a step towards me, and I backed away, scared, my heart pounding with fear of what he might do.
But he just stopped, took a deep breath, and let his hands fall to his sides, as if he had lost a battle.
"You thought I was going to hurt you," he said, in a low but firm tone. "I would never do that. I would never hurt you."
And then, he turned his back and started walking back to the bar.
"Johnson..." I called with a sob.
He stopped, but didn't look back.
"Forgive me. Forgive me for kissing you, for giving you hope... For that slap. I swear I'm not like this. I didn't want to hurt you. I like you a lot. Please, if you still can, be my friend."
"I don't want your friendship, Lisy. It would only hurt me more. I believed we could be friends, but I was wrong. The slap didn't hurt, but hearing you offer me your friendship after everything... That hurt more than anything."
He turned to face me, his eyes shining with a mixture of pain and resignation.
"I hate the fact that you like him. I hate even more that I can't be enough for you."
"Johnson..."
He opened the bar door, disappearing through it and leaving me alone, once again.
I went inside, crossed the dance floor, and went outside. My legs were weak, my stomach seemed to be in a whirlwind, and the world around me was spinning slowly. However, I was still lucid.
I went to my truck. I got in with difficulty, locked the doors, and let myself sink into the seat, staring at the deserted street through the window. Eventually, I jumped to the back seat and lay down. It was impossible to drive home in that state.
But the nausea won, and I found myself outside, vomiting as if I could expel the pain along with the alcohol. I went back to the car, afraid of being alone in the middle of the street.
I lay down again in the back seat, curled up, thinking about everything that had happened.
By now, Will must be with Patsy. He must be hugging her, kissing her, maybe even whispering sweet things in her ear. And I hated myself for imagining that, for feeling the sharp pain of jealousy piercing my chest like a sharp blade.
I thought I would never love anyone other than Michael, but now, I understand that such a feeling, so pure, so raw, I had never felt. I loved him, and that was destroying me inside.

"Let the games begin": Phrase from the movie Saw
Song: Despicable by Grandson