Never Again

Chapter Three - I Can't Give This To You

The apartment was the place of his childhood memories. There were a lot of photos decorating it. There were photos of him when he was a child, along with his brother and parents.

We got seated and, at that moment, I understood that he wasn't the right choice for me.

The little transparent plastic bag had something inside it. It was an unnatural green color, like I've never seen before. I understood at once that, whatever was in there, was synthetic.

Bob opened the little bag. He rolled a joint and sprinkled some of the weird looking thing onto it. They talked with each other while they smoked. I looked at them, without managing to do anything. Should I excuse myself and just leave?

Before I managed to do so, Bob stood up. Ray didn't stand, but looked his way until he was out of the apartment door. He then looked back at me and smiled. He looked weird. His eyes seemed less present and they were red. He had this dumb smile on his face.

"I hope I didn't scare you off."

I shrugged. Did he? It wasn't the first time when I was seeing someone doing drugs, so I knew that, whatever that had been, it was strong.

"I am not scared."

He smiled even wider and I couldn't stop from mirroring his smile as a response. Why couldn't I just stand up and leave? Why couldn't I move? My brain screamed at me, telling me I had to leave and never again look back. I knew that this would result in yet another short and dissapointing relationship. I knew I couldn't do much about his addiction, if it even was an addiction. But, at the same time, I couldn't move. Even though I understood all the bad parts of it, even though my thinking was completely rational and I knew the risks, I still wanted to be there.

"So how have you been?"

"I've been good. I didn't do much since last night." I chuckled and continued to look at his weird eyes. "What have you been up to?"

"I went home last night and slept like a baby." He smiled again. "I am happy I met you."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say.

He put his hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. I looked up at him and he came closer to kiss me. He did, but again, no fireworks or butterflies flying about. Just an overwhelming feeling that I would be there a while, trapped into his embrace, his kiss.

He lit up a cigarette and I did too. We smoked and our conversation started flowing more and more naturally. We soon found ourselves into the livingroom, where I could spot even more photos of his family.

"Do you live here?" I was asking because, even though that apartment seemed cozy and liveable, there weren't any signs that someone lived there in a while. It was too tidy.

"No, we moved a while ago, but I kept this place. I like it."

I nodded and stopped looking around. I didn't want to be intrusive. I sat down on the couch and he came beside me. One thing led to another and we had sex for the first time. It was definitely more interesting than our kisses up until then. We was very careful, very responsive at my reactions. He asked if I was okay a few times and I smiled at how thoughtful he had been about it.

After, when my brain was still wrapped into a haze, I looked at him to see him take the joint from earlier. It hadn't been finished and I understood that he was planning on finishing it right there, in bed. He took an ashtray from the coffee table and put in on his lap. He started smoking and I just looked at him for a little while.

I watched as his expression changed. He was thinking about something, looking at nothing. It wasn't the face of a man who was simply thinking or planning something. I knew at once that his expression, that face, was of a man who was thinking about something that had left a mark on him. He was remembering something and it seemed it wasn't something good.

I have always been good at reading people. I have always emphasized with others. I could have said something, but I didn't know what and I didn't want to ask questions I was in no place to ask yet. Instead, I just took his hand and he came out of it, seeming to understand what I was actually doing. He smiled at me and his smile was sad. I almost couldn't control it, I rested my head on his shoulder, because I could see the pain.

He looked at the joint, now almost finished. "I won't ever give this to you, I promise."

I chuckled. "Why?"

"Because it's not something you want to have to deal with. Neither do I."

I didn't ask any more things. I could have asked why he was doing it then. I could have asked if he'd ever been better. But I kept the silence.

He took me by surprise when he said "Bob told me you would be easy. But I can see you're not. You're complex."

I looked at him questioningly and he eventually continued.

"You know, I asked Bob about some easy girl I could spend a night with. He told me about you. I thought I would see you once and that would be it. But it isn't like that. I could tell you will matter to me from the first time my eyes laid on you."

How did Bob reach such a conclusion? Yes, I had slept with one of our neighbours, because I liked him a lot and I never spoke to him again because I changed my mind. Did he tell something to Bob? Because he couldn't have known otherwise.

I was not easy and I surely didn't jump into things just because I could. I thought I could trust that guy. I didn't like having my business al around the town. I was starting to get angry, but I tried to suppress it.

He seemed bitter when he told me that. I could understand that he wasn't really looking for a relationship, but I could also understand that we would be stuck together for some time. And I can't say I wasn't happy. I was, because something inside me wanted to help him. Something inside me wanted to know why he was that sad. Maybe one day I would find out. But after that, it's never again.