On the Way Down

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"You want to talk about Len?"

Phoenix couldn't appear more dumbfounded if a parade of dancing kittens barged into his kitchen and tangoed across the counter. Or is it a different emotion he's trying to hide? It could be the lighting, but his face looks a shade paler than usual.

"Yes."

I wait and watch as he ponders my request. There's a vein at his temple becoming noticeable now, and another one near the center of his forehead that's more visible with each passing second. Without either of us speaking, the only sounds in the room are a quiet hum from the refrigerator and the fan powering his central air conditioning.

"What do you want to know, specifically?" he asks. "Is it background for your book?"

"It's background for me, as the person dating you."

"I'm not sure I'm following."

Is he sincere in his confusion, or is he buying time or deflecting? I continue observing him. He, in turn, fiddles with his watch's wristband and keeps his gaze focused somewhere to the left of me.

"You've been everything but mentally present since hearing the news about the break in Len's case," I tell him, even though I'm sure he knows this. "I can actually feel your energy shift somewhere else when her name comes up. It makes me wonder what I don't know."

"About her case?" He's squinting now, and I don't think it's from the overhead lights. This seems more like acting.

"You tell me. Is it something about how she disappeared, or is it your emotional connection to her? You've hardly said anything other than claiming to only have been good friends."

How much truth is there in what little he's said about their relationship? I stop myself before asking. I don't want to be seen as being jealous of someone I've never met, and really, I'm not. I only want to know why Phoenix clams up when he hears her name, what he's thinking and feeling, and why he seems so resistant to sharing this with me.

"Knowing there could be an answer any day to what happened brings up a lot. I apologize if I haven't been myself this week."

"What else beyond that table scrap?"

That gets his attention. His squint gives way to a much wider gaze that he now trains on me. He doesn't speak right away, so I do.

"You've owned up to hiding things you felt the first time we were together. Important things that affected you internally and sent you spiraling. Our relationship ended because of it. You may not drink to cope with things anymore, but I'm not about to get shut out a second time. I promise you I will walk out of this house, block your number, and not look back, unless you tell me the truth. All of it."

His shoulders and neck stiffen, and he hardly blinks for what's probably under a minute of silence, but seems to stretch on into eternity. Finally, he nods.

"Where would you like me to start?"

"At the beginning. Or with why losing her was the incentive you needed to get and stay sober when salvaging our relationship wasn't. Why did she mean more?"

I didn't intend for the last part to come out, but there it is. I've steered this exactly where I didn't want to go before we've even started.

"Del."

There's actual pain in his voice when he says my name. Now I'm the one who can't meet his eyes.

"Motion to strike my last question," I mumble.

"Look at me, please."

I'm frozen, though, unable to move a muscle until Phoenix gently tilts my chin toward him so I have no choice but to do what he's asked. Heat rises to my neck and cheeks, and God, I just want to hop off this stool, crawl under the table in the corner, and hide.