The Illusion of Life

Our Mistakes

"What... what now?" Scotty asks.

"Nothing," Toddy says. "That's what you paid for." The words shake and he tells himself it's just from the booze. Scotty is silent. He is still sitting on the bed like he's expecting something more. "We're done here," Toddy tells him. Without turning to look he goes into the bathroom, flips the flimsy lock and stands under the shower without turning on the spray.

He can hear Scotty moving on the other side. He wonders if he'll leave the money, but finds he doesn't care. He wants to never see him again. He wants to remember how to stop feeling. Go back to feeling numb and drunk and one step away from dead. He wants to never know what it might've felt like to get fucked by Scotty.

He turns the shower on so he can pretend it's only water on his face.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, but eventually the water runs cold and his fingers go shrivelled. He wraps a towel around his waist and steps back into the room. His clothes are neatly folded and laid out on the bed. Scotty's – the john's clothes are gone.

The window's open, curtains whipping in the wind, snow melting on the carpet, the smell of sex already fading.

On the sideboard, wedged halfway beneath a stained ashtray are a handful of bills. Toddy takes them, counts thirty nine dollars and doesn't have the energy to feel bitter.

There's a folded sheet of curling, off-white motel paper beneath the bills, and tucked between the folds is a credit card. For a moment Toddy wonders what kind of insane the guy is.

I'm sorry, the note says, I didn't have enough. You know the PIN. Take what you need. Take all of it. If you change your mind, about anything, I'll be there. I love you.

Toddy reads it four times and can't make sense of it. Maybe it's just another part of the fantasy.

Then he catches the name on the card.

The note falls from his fingers. His legs go out and he hits the floor hard. He curls up on the carpet, his fingers combing through the coarse, dusty fibres like there's some comfort to be found there. Touching it like he touched Scotty.

I love you, Scotty had written. I love you, Toddy had said. He had thought it was a lie.

He thinks of touching Scotty and kissing him and fucking him. Scotty knows what he is now. You don't love a whore. Toddy had thought he'd forgotten what shame feels like.

He starts to sob and thinks of how many times he has before, how they would laugh and curse and fuck him harder. He thinks of how he couldn't cry earlier. Maybe Scotty would've comforted him. He wonders how much he needs to drink to forget everything.