Chapter 3
The naughty smile stays on his lips as Brian crosses one leg on top of the other.
"Girl, I already know everything about you, what 'truths' can you possibly expose?" He makes air quotes with his fingers, and rightfully so. He is one-hundred percent right. There's pretty much nothing I can reveal to him after all these years. "Plus, all your dares will probably involve me being completely naked."
The phrase is not even done leaving his mouth when my legs are already kicking the air as I laugh hysterically. There is just something about the way he says things, so casually, so cool, yet so full of meaning. Everything that comes out of his mouth sends me into endless fits of laughter that are beyond my control.
Maureen suddenly takes over, forcing my lips to twist as I look at him from the side. "You know all of my diseases, mother."
His laughter boombs against the walls of my apartment for only a second before he goes back to serious. A thing that I am more than used to by now.
"Come on!" My leg stretches and I poke his ribs with my big toe. "Look, as a symbol of my good nature, I'll let you start."
There is a deep sigh. A sign of him giving in. I can pretty much see how he's mentally preparing himself to deal with whatever twisted ideas I have in mind. "Okay, okay. There really is something I need you to tell me."
"But I'm supposed to pick truth or dare!" I remind him.
"No, bitch, I need the truth on this."
A small scream leaves my mouth, it's short and full of shock. Pretty much the same reaction I have for all his one-liners. He's just so funny, and clever, and intelligent. Okay, stop! I can't allow my brain to keep following that path every time he speaks. Instead of going straight into my rabbit hole of adoration, I think I pronounce something that encourages him to ask whatever he so desperately wants to know.
"Why don't you take better care of this place?" His finger makes small circles in the air, referring to my apartment.
"It all started back in 1932..."
"No, no. Don't do that voice," he stops me mid-sentence. I don't even realize I'm switching personalities until he brings it up. "I'm serious. Wouldn't you prefer to come back to a nice apartment?"
I throw my head back and let out a loud groan. "I'm just... I'm - I'm never here," I say as a way of explanation. One that he doesn't seem to buy. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling it up in hopes to relieve some of the frustration. "Do you want the truth-truth or whatever I tell myself so I can sleep at night?" A small chuckle comes out with my words, trying to somehow take the seriousness out of the topic. Trying being the keyword here.
"This is fucking truth or dare, bitch. Of course I want the truth-truth." A piece of gum travels from one side of his mouth to the other as he speaks. Has he been chewing on that this whole time? I can't tell anymore. Maybe I've become so used to see the small pink dot inside his mouth, by now it's completely unrecognizable to my eyes.
My lips twist side to side. My face contorts in every direction as the connection between my mouth and my brain short-circuits.
There is no easy way for me to explain this, so I just go straight for the truth and hope he gets it.
"Okay, so, in the program," I drawl the last word, almost as to verify he understands what that means. He simply nods his head, egging me to continue. "In the program, one of the - uh..." I know what I want to say, it's right there in my mind, jumping the many ropes and branches of the jungle that is my brain, but I can't catch the right words to articulate it. My hands probably look stupid right now as they do their best to express what my mouth can't. "One of the, let's say milestones of recovery, is when you turn your house into a hotel room."
The look on his face has a million questions written all over it. Not in a judging matter, though. Never. He's interested. He wants to know more about the complicated reality and implications of being in a 12 Steps program.
"It's, like, you know... yeah." That can't possibly be the right way to explain it. I inhale deeply and hold the air in my mouth, inflating my cheeks, a fruitless effort to give my mind time to process my thoughts.
"I get it," he says in a voice reflecting nothing but actual understanding. His hand reaches out and touches my knee. Even if it is just for a second, the burning feeling his fingers leave on my skin is practically unbearable. "I do, I really do," he assures me. "It means that you are too busy living your real life and have no time to worry about superficial things like decoration."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Exactly!" My enthusiasm is clear as I agree with him. He does get it. "It's all about-about being out there, you know? Always go-go-go." My fingers snap to the rhythm of my last words to emphasize them.
A nod of his head closes the subject. "Makes sense. Now, it's your turn. I choose truth."
"Oh, but I want to see you naked!" I fake disappointment, or at least I think I'm faking it, as I bring up his earlier comment.
Just like my maybe-fake disappointment, he allows a facade of arrogance to shine bright. "You always do."
There's no use for me to deny such an obvious statement. So I vocaly agree with him before an actual question hits me. "Okay, okay. Be honest," I warn him by stretching my arm and putting my index finger up. "That night in my room, in Boston, why did you reject me?"
It probably takes him by surprise, or maybe he's deciding if, just like I did earlier, if he should tell me nothing but the truth or go back to the same age excuse he's been relying on for years. Either way, he stays silent for a moment. His expression is completely blank, not moving a muscle on his face other than his jaw going softly up and down against the gum.
Just when I feel he's ready to speak, and his mouth finally opens, the doorbell rings.
