"I'm Not Crazy"

XXVIII.

"I was starting to think I'd need to show up at your apartment," Bird said, as soon as they approached me at the bar.

I'd watched their hawk-like eyes land on me immediately when I'd come through the door. It was late again. The club was busy with bodies, and the stage had several women on it all working together in some sort of alluring choreography. I'd paused and watched for several minutes, and Bird had allowed me to do so without complaint. Nobody had approached me for conversation like the men sometimes seemed inclined to do. I had to imagine I was giving off some type of repellent aura. Maybe I looked unfriendly or unclean or dangerous. Maybe they knew I'd tried to kill myself that morning by inhaling water in my shower before work. Maybe it was because I was wearing my skin like a costume. I'd animated myself through work, and then I'd deflated like an old balloon. They could probably tell I was deflated.

Eventually I couldn't watch the dancers anymore. Their movements were blurring together, and my mind was beginning to find distress in their jerky movements and their darkened faces. I didn't want to contemplate the difference between desperation and passion. I didn't want to think about why they might be on the stage. Why did women seek sexual exploits? Why did I end up with a boy in a bathtub? That wasn't a question for the present.

I'd approached the bar after that. Bird had flown to me, perching across the bar with inquisitive eyes that hid whatever distress I might have caused.

"You didn't bring me a drink," I said, because Bird always brought a drink to me when they approached. That was the way of things. Bird could not be changing unexpectedly when everything else had changed, and maybe I was responsible for how they'd changed because I'd met Basil so many times now instead of their counterpart, but Bird could not change. I could not handle Bird changing anymore.

"Did you want one?" They asked evenly.

"You always bring one," I said. It wasn't about what I wanted. I needed everyone to stop asking me to want things. I couldn't do it.

There was a pause after my explanation. Bird blinked once. Basil took over.

"He told me to be careful serving you drinks," Basil said softly.

"Why?" I asked in a sort of panicked tone. "What else did he tell you?"

"Less than you'd think," Basil promised. "We don't gossip. That isn't how Riley and I operate."

"I flushed my pills," I insisted as if that would make me sound saner. "So you don't need to worry like he thinks."

Basil nodded, and then promptly walked away to the bottles behind the bar. I wanted them to be Bird when they came back with the tiny pink shots in their hands. I imagined that Bird would not hesitate before sliding mine across the bar to me, but Basil did. There was a split second of regret maybe, and then I was handed my glass. 

A moment passed where neither of us spoke. I took the shot slowly and childishly. Basil sipped it like a regular drink in a way that embodied poise. I allowed myself to mull over the way Basil had not skimped on the alcohol like they sometimes did. I enjoyed the moment.

They had to break the spell eventually, because I hadn't come for nothing.

"He is worried about you," they said finally.

"He can tell me that himself," I suggested. It came off colder than I thought it was going to, but I didn't amend it. Pretending to be cold instead of weak was something I could find solace in. My voice still wavered. It wasn't as if I could fool anyone but myself, especially not Basil. Being cold was maybe the only thing that could hold me together while they watched me melt.