Relapse (Phan)

TWENTY FIVE

Paloma, Dan, and I walked in comfortable silence to the sandwich shop where Dan had butt-texted me only a few months ago. We ordered and sat down at a corner booth where Dan and I told Paloma the whole story. Although I still did most of the talking, I was thankful that Dan was there to recover the conversation or simply shoot me a comforting glance when my voice cracked and faltered. Paloma's eyes welled a few times as we recounted the events of the past few months, but I could tell she was trying to be strong. She kept apologizing, as if any of it was her fault or she could have done anything to stop it. She also kept shooting Dan almost thankful glances and I could tell that she was regretting advising me to choose Jason over him. I wasn't mad at her though. She didn't know. And she was no more stupid than any of us had been. By the time we left the shop, Paloma and Dan were nerding out about 90's grunge bands and we spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and joking. When my shift finally ended, Dan and I walked hand-in-hand to the underground station to catch the train back towards my—our- apartment. The station was busy and our carriage was full of people, all tired from a long day's work after the holidays. Dan and I managed to find two seats near the door. About halfway through our short journey he yawned and rested his head lazily on my shoulder. I couldn't help but smile as he laced our fingers, his breathing steady and slow. I ran my thumb gently over the knuckles of his left hand. Faint purple bruises were beginning to form from hitting Jason. I let out a long sigh and squeezed his hand appreciatively. I was so glad he had been there to stand up for me. I wanted to be relieved—to relax—but a part of me knew that this was far from over.

"You want dinner?" Dan asked, flopping himself idly into a dining room chair.

"Dinner sounds nice," I grinned, sitting on his lap playfully, "But cooking would require a lot of effort and I honestly don't know if I'm up to the challenge," I winked.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of pizza," he laughed.

"Pizza's good," I agreed.

"Good!" he stood, picking me up and carrying me into the bedroom and dropping me onto the bed. He crawled in after me, laughing hysterically and poking at my ribs. After settling in next to me, he flipped open my laptop and ordered a large BBQ. We spent the next hours sprawled on top of each other, Dan playing me old songs as he read the Wikipedia page for Spring Awakening.

"When do you start rehearsals?" I asked, taking a bite out of my fourth slice.

"Next week," he replied through a mouth full of pizza.

"I can't believe I'm dating an actor!" I joked, draping myself over him in order to look at the computer screen over his shoulder.

"You're quite the trophy wife," I could barely see the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin, "Quite the arm candy when I win my first Oscar."

"Aren't Oscars for movies, Dan?" I pointed out.

"I could be in movies!" he argued, rolling over and throwing me off of him in the process.

"I know," I smiled, "I've seen you do it. You're brilliant."

"Now you're just buttering me up," he said, though I could tell that he was blushing. I pulled him into a brief kiss.

"Hey Dan?"

"Hey what?" he smiled, running his fingers through my hair, our noses still touching.

"Thank you," I said earnestly. "For what you did today. It was—"

"Nothing," he interrupted. "It was nothing."