Trade Paperback Romance: Chapter 15

Month 9: March

Eli

“I’m worried about her,” I said, standing behind the counter at the shop, drumming my fingers on the surface. 

“When aren’t you worried about her?” Tio Miguel said as he flipped through a volume of Love & Rockets. He and the boys had come by to drop off some formalwear and cologne before I went to pick up Samantha for her birthday dinner. Nothing too fancy- we were just gonna see a horror movie, then go home so I could whip us up some dinner. 

Samantha had left a lot of instructions about what she was and wasn’t willing to eat for tonight. I’d tried to convince her to take today as a cheat-day, given it was a special day, but she wasn’t budging. Adding to that the fact that she kept slipping away to the bathroom as soon as she finished eating most of her meals, and was brushing her teeth at least five times a day… I was starting to have questions, and I was starting to wonder if I was doing the right thing by not asking those questions. 

“That’s fair,” I said. “But I just… Dammit, I dunno. I feel like she’s shutting me out about something, and I feel like it has something to do with her eating habits.”

“You think she’s got an eating disorder?” Edson said from the far-right corner of the shop where he and Andre were thumbing through manga volumes.

“... Maybe,” I said, rubbing the back of my head. 

Edson lumbered over and stood in front of my desk. “If you think she does, you need to talk to her about this, esse.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“There’s no ‘just’ here,” Edson said, giving me a serious look. “I mean it. You need to talk to her about this. My first girlfriend, she… She was bulimic. She’s still in and out of hospitals and treatment clinics for it.”

“Edson,” I said, “I had no idea.”

“Because I didn’t tell you, you dweeb,” he said, giving me a playful noogie. “It’s not something I like talking about. But you’re family, and this girl is special to you. I mean, she must be, given…”

He trailed off, and his dad and brother both stared at him blankly while he tried to suss out just how far deep into his mouth he’d placed his foot. 

I just sighed. “How is the rest of the family doing, anyway?”

Still in the back of the room looking at volumes of JJK, Andre heaved a sigh of his own. Edson’s eyes darted back and forth, and Tio Miguel coughed. 

“I’m still persona non grata, then?” I asked, eyes narrow.

“No, it’s worse than that,” Edson said. 

“Dude,” Andre glared. 

“What? He asked!”

“What I believe my boys are trying to say is that the rest of the family doesn’t know we’re still talking to you,” Tio Miguel said. 

I leaned forward and rested my chin on the glass. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Eli-”

“I mean, I don’t know what I expected you guys to say,” I said, the floor suddenly feeling very far from my feet. Like I was dangling in the empty air over a precipice, and any moment the tenuous threads of fate keeping me aloft would come untethered and send me tumbling down into the empty chasm of endless darkness below. 

“Look, I’ve been talking to my brothers about it,” Tio Miguel said.

“But not my dad, I’m guessing?”

“... No. I’m working my way up to him.”

“Best of luck,” I said with a bitter laugh. “I spent almost nineteen full years trying to convince my father I had any value as a son. If I couldn’t pull that off, I don’t know how you’re gonna manage it.”

“Eli, don’t say that,” Tio Miguel said. 

“Why not?” I asked. 

“He does love you-”

“‘In his own way,’’’ I cut him off. Miguel nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right. I just… I just wish I could still believe that. I used to believe that, but now… I mean, why would he? I’m not what he wanted. I’m an embarrassment.”

“You don’t mean that,” Miguel said, walking forward and putting a hand on my shoulder. 

“About myself? No. I don’t,” I said. “But I believe that he believes it. He’s just the most stubborn, close-minded, self-obsessed man on the planet and I had the audacity to not be exactly what he wanted me to be, so as far as he’s considered that basically makes me sub-human. Which I suppose is about right, given that’s also what he thinks of Samantha.”

Edson and Tio Miguel exchanged a look, while in the back, Andre made a point of looking lost in what he was reading. 

“Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to say that’s not true, that he’s a better man than I’m giving him credit for, that he’ll see reason eventually?” I rolled my eyes. 

“Not really,” Tio Miguel said. “My little brother has always been a jackass.”

“I kinda always hated him, if we’re being real,” Edson said. 

“He once told me I wasn’t a real man because I drink tea instead of coffee,” Andre said. 

“Wait… Seriously?” Edson, Miguel, and I all said at the same time as we looked at him. 

“Yeah,” Andre nodded. 

“When was this?” Tio Miguel said. 

“My eighteenth birthday breakfast,” Andre said. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered.

“Language,” Tio Miguel said. 

I eyed him, but he just gave me a ‘stern, scolding authority figure’ sort of look. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Jesus,” Miguel said. 

I chuckled lightly. “Sorry, Jesus.”

“That’s ‘Mr. Christ’ to you, young man,” Miguel grinned. 

“Sorry, Mr. Christ,” I chuckled once more. It wasn’t really that funny, but… It was just nice to hear some dad jokes again.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw someone familiar approaching. “Hey, y’all should go out the back.”
 “Why?” Edson asked. 

“My mom’s side of the family is paying a visit,” I said as Sarah parallel parked across the street and climbed out of her car. “And she will not hesitate to sell you guys out to the others.”

“Right,” Tio Miguel said. “Come on, boys. We need to do some grocery shopping anyway, pick up some things your mom needs for dinner.”

Before they left, Edson looked at me once more and said, “Text me. Let me know how she’s doing. And how you’re doing. But remember, you need to talk to her. A man takes care of his woman.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, hermanito,” he said before he darted off with the rest of his family. 

They made it out the back just as my bitch of a cousin walked in. Hair in a tight braid, clad in a black tank top and mom-jeans, tote bag slung over her shoulder. The bell rang, and she looked around in disbelief. Like she couldn’t believe this place really existed. 

“Eli,” she said, somehow dragging out the single syllable. 

“What do you want, Sarah?” I said, my temper boiling away any semblance of tact I had left. I had so much on my plate today, I did not want to have to fucking deal with this shit right now. 

“Rude,” she said. “You talk to all your customers like that?”

“You’re only a customer if you buy something,” I said. “Until such a time as that, you’re a loiterer.”

“And do you talk to all your family like-”

“We’re not family,” I spat. The audacity of this bitch. 

“Rude.”

“Accurate,” I said. “You’ve treated me like garbage literally my entire life. And I’m guessing you’re here to try to guilt-trip into breaking up with my girlfriend and go groveling back to my parents?”

“I-”

“Lemme guess: your mom put you up to this,” I snapped. 

She blinked. “Maybe.”

“That means my mom put her up to this. Fucking hell, that’s passive-aggressive.”

“You mean like you’re being-”

“I’m being regular aggressive, thanks very much,” I said. “Now, what did you come here to say? If you can manage to say it quickly, that would be great. I need to start getting ready for my girlfriend’s birthday.”

She blinked at me. “He’s not really a g-”

“Leave,” I said, gesturing to the door. 

“Oh for crying out-”

“Get out!” I screamed. 

And for once, I managed to shut her up. For once, I managed to make her flinch. It took another ten seconds for her to attempt to respond with, “I’m trying to help-”

“Bullshit,” I said. “Knowing you, you only agreed to this because your mom promised you and your baby-daddy you could stay at home without paying rent this month.”

“You have no right to judge me, Eli,” she snapped. 

“And you have no right to judge me. Now get the fuck out of my store.”

“Oh, it’s your store, now?”

“I’m assistant manager,” I said, taking a nameplate out from under the desk and slamming it on the glass surface. It did, in fact, say Eli Luna, assistant manager. I wasn’t actually the assistant manager, because that was technically still Samantha’s title, but she thought it would be funny for me to bust this out on customers if they got unruly. “Asshole.”

Apoplectic, Sarah scrunched up her face and balled her fists. “You don’t know how difficult you’re making this for me. For all of us. For my baby and for my husband, and for my parents. Your mother is on the warpath, and she’s making life hell for all of us-”

“Cry me a river,” I said, glaring at her, leaning forward, heart pounding. I was so fucking tired of all this. Trying to make it my fault. Everything was always my fault. That was just the way of it in my family. This proved what I already knew: without me there to defuse every tense situation, the whole flock of them devolved into screaming idiots. My hands trembled on the desk, and I wasn’t able to blink. I simply kept staring straight at her. Through her. 

She balked. “What the hell is wrong with you? Where is your compassion?!”

“Could ask you the same question,” I said, heartbeat echoing inside me, everything in my line of sight burning bright red. “You’ve been treating me like garbage my whole life for no reason, and the second things get tough for you, you come here and try to berate me for not wanting to be under the thumb of my abusive parents anymore? Save it for someone who cares.”

“You’re gonna burn for this, Eli,” Sarah spat. 

“Better than freezing to death around a frigid bitch like you,” I spat right back. “Now. Get out. Of my store.”

Forehead vein throbbing, she turned on her heel and stomped out, slamming the door behind her. 

I watched her walk away. I watched her get in her car and drive off. 

Then I dropped to my knees and held my head in my hands as the world spun around me. The anger began to fade like embers in a dying campfire cooled by morning dew, leaving only cold fear freezing my heart and my lungs and my stomach. My hands kept shaking as I dangled over the precipice, and an endless choir of my family’s screams echoed inside my hollow mind. 

I don’t know how long I was down there, on the floor. I just know that eventually, a familiar voice cut through the noise in my head. “Dude? You okay?”

I looked up and saw Reggie poking his head over the desk. 

“Uh… Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I doubt that, somehow,” Reggie said.

“Uh… Well… I just…”

“You look like you’re having a panic attack.”

“That’s, um, that is to say-”

“Hey, um, I know I’m not actually an employee here, but do you want me to mind the shop for a little bit? You look like you could use some air.”
 The room spun around me, and all I could think about, all I wanted to think about, was how the hell I was going to sort through the mess of my life. It was all so much, and I was just… 

God, I was a kid only a year ago. What the hell happened? I couldn’t fix all this. It was too much. I wasn’t enough. I would never be enough. 

But I had to be. For her. And for this place. “Okay,” I said. 

“Cool. Why don’t you, I dunno, go for a walk or something?” Reggie said. 

“Okay,” I repeated. 

“Maybe buy a sugary snack? Get some easy serotonin?” Reggie said. 

“Okay.”

I walked away, then. And I walked, and walked, and walked, until my legs started to get itchy and I found myself running instead.

Samantha

Making myself throw up was getting easier. I did it at least once a day at this point, sometimes more than that. I didn’t even have to put my hand in my mouth all the time anymore. I could just chug too much coffee too quickly and it would happen for me automatically. Though it was hard to use the coffee trick at night, so a hand down my throat was still a go-to after six in the evening. 

And nobody suspected a thing. 

Kayla texted me pointers, helping me figure out how to avoid getting caught. It was really only Eli I had to hide it from, though. And occasionally Bethany as well. But it was all okay. Everything was ay-okay. 

Kayla had honestly been a big help in general. She’d gifted me a few of her old dresses that made her look slimmer, plus a corset that would help squeeze the extra fat on me into place. Granted, the dresses weren’t really my style, but it didn’t hurt to experiment. 

I wore one of them- a flowy magenta number with long sleeves and vertical white stripes running down it- as I sat in the hospital with Paul… With Dad. I’d been trying out calling him that more and more often, and it felt good. Really good. 

Callum… Well, he was still Callum. But Paul was Dad. He always had been. 

“Happy birthday, kiddo,” Paul said as I helped him stand up and guided him into a wheelchair. We were gonna do a lap around the hospital, just so he could have a change of scenery. It was much needed- there was only so much of looking at the same thing any human being could take, especially for months on end. 

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. I gave him a quick hug before I helped him sit in the chair. 

“Hm,” he said. “You and Eli doing anything to celebrate?”

“Dinner and a movie,” I said. 

“Good. Eat lots of popcorn for me,” Dad said. “And nachos. And chocolate-”

“I don’t really eat that stuff anymore,” I said, forcing out a laugh. 

“Samantha, just because I’m on the rabbit food diet doesn’t mean you have to-”

“I want to,” I cut him off. “I mean c’mon, look at me- I’ve lost fifty pounds! I’ve never looked better than this.”

“Samantha. You’ve always been beautiful-”

“Mhmm,” I nodded along as I wheeled him down the hallway.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Don’t get dismissive with me,” Dad said. “I’m tired of you thinking you’re ugly.”

“I am ugly,” I said automatically. Then I winced. Ah, shit, this was gonna lead to a whole conversation, wasn’t it?

“You’re not,” Dad said. 

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“It’s not- you have to say that, you’re my Dad.”

“Eli thinks so too.”

I gulped. I didn’t really have a response to that one. So I just kept wheeling him down the hall, past hospital rooms. Some empty, some occupied, some with closed doors barring the revelation of its potential occupants. 

“Look, Samantha, I just… I’m worried about you.”

“Well, I’m worried about you,” I countered. 

“That’s… That’s fair. I just… I wish you would love yourself the way I love you. The way everyone close to you loves you.”

I gulped again. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Dad said, looking back at me. “Just remember this moment, this conversation, next time you feel like hating yourself. Okay?”

I nodded. I wanted to say ‘okay.’ Wanted to say ‘I promise.’ Wanted to say ‘I’ll try.’ But the words caught in my throat, and I couldn’t bring myself to force them out. I remembered what Kayla said to me last time we spoke: ‘it’s easier if the men don’t know everything we do for them.’

Because I was doing it for him, for Eli, and for Dad, as much as for myself. I wanted to be as beautiful as they pretended I was, so that they could finally stop pretending. I was getting there- I thought I would be there soon. Hopefully… Hopefully soon I could stop. 

Hopefully soon, I would be enough.

Eli

I ran all the way to Samantha’s house, hoping for some irrational reason I would find her home from the hospital already. I needed to talk to her, needed to see her, needed to feel her. God, I shouldn’t have gone this far- I should’ve been getting back to the shop, should have been studying, should have been doing all the things I was supposed to be doing to maintain the illusion that I was a semi-functional adult. So that I could keep up this magic trick I was doing where I made everyone think I was anything other than a scared, overgrown kid flailing around in a world he had no understanding of. 

I found someone waiting on the front steps. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Samantha. Unfortunately, it was Wes, her shitty ex-boyfriend. 

The smart thing to do would have been to turn around, duck around the corner, call the cops. Or to call Samantha and Paul and have them do something about this. 

But I wasn’t in a smart mood. 

With my shaking hands balled into fists and sweat rolling down my brow and back, I marched up to Wes and barked, “Hey! What the hell are you doing here?!”

He squinted at me, tilting his head and refusing to take the lit cigarette out of his mouth while he sized me up. Finally, he stubbed out the cigarette on the steps and said, “Sorry, who are you?”

I grinded my teeth together. “Eli. We’ve met. You tried to deck me and wound up with a bloody fist.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re that guy,” Wes said. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” I glared. 

“The fuck? Oh, right, you and Sam-”

“Samantha.”

He rolled his eyes. The prick rolled his fucking eyes! “Whatever.”

I marched forward, fists gathered. “No. Not whatever. Don’t disrespect her.”

“Oh, please. You know that-”

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulled him to his feet. “What? What do I know?”

“You might wanna check yourself here, kid,” Wes said, clearly expecting me to be intimidated by his greater height and bulk. 

Fuck that. “You might wanna stop stalking your ex-girlfriend.”

“Ex-boy-”

I spat in his face before he could finish. “What are you doing here?”

Death in his eyes, he wiped his face. “I was gonna ask Sam if he was ready to come crawling back to me. And given what a pathetic, angsty little shithead he’s shacking up with nowadays, he fucking better be.”

“Keep talking, guy,” I said, “I’ve had a really shitty day. I’m very much looking for an excuse right now.” 

He smirked at me. “Go ahead. I think you can tell a lot about a guy by how he fights. Let’s see what you’ve-”

I decked him before he could finish. I’d be lying if I said the feeling of his nose crunching underneath my fist wasn’t incredibly satisfying. 

Less satisfying was when he punched me in the stomach as he stood up. 

But equally satisfying was when I got a hook punch across his jaw. 

He leapt up from the ground and tackled me, bringing down his fists while I rolled out of the way. 

I stood my ground and raised my fists.

He did the same.
 I charged at him, screaming. 

Samantha

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” Bethany asked me as I showed off the magenta dress to her. We sat at a coffee shop, the outdoor table stationed beneath an umbrella at the corner of Wilshire boulevard. Bethany was treating herself to a vanilla sweet-cream nitro cold brew, while I had a simple black Americano. The sun was out for another hour or so, while a cool breeze floated past us as cars drove by. 

“Yeah!” I said. “Kayla gave it to me. What do you think?”

“It’s… Pretty.”

“What?”

“Nothing- I said it’s pretty.”

“You hesitated.”

“I just… It’s not what I’m used to, with you.”

“Why? Because it’s not dark and depressing?”

Bethany furrowed her brow. “Look, far be it from me to judge someone for wanting to wear bright, colorful clothes-”

“Yes, indeed,” I said. 

“I just… You’ve been a little different lately.”

“Bad-different?”

“Not necessarily, just… I dunno.”

I sighed, then took a long sip of my drink. “Bethany. I’ve always been direct with you. If you have something to say-”

“Are you doing this for you? Or for someone else?”

I blinked. “Doing what?”

“Changing,” Bethany said. “It’s fine that you are.”

“I mean, I’m literally going through second puberty.”

“Yeah, I get that. And it looks great on you. And so does that dress. I just… I worry that maybe it’s not just for you? That you’re trying to be someone else, still?”

“Of course I’m trying to be someone else,” I said. “The old me sucks.”

“I… That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” I said. 

Her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment before she said, “Well, for one thing, a month ago that dress wouldn’t have fit you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is that what this is about? Seriously?”

Bethany, for her part, narrowed her eyes right back. “You’ve lost a lotta weight very quickly. Too quickly. So yeah, that’s what this is about.”

“Oh, do not go there,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m finally below two hundred pounds- that has literally never happened for me before. I’m finally almost halfway pretty! And all anyone can do is tell me how much it’s freaking them out!”

“You’ve always been pretty, Samantha.”

I winced. “I really wish… I really do wish I could hear that and believe it. That my brain could process it as anything other than pity.”

“I’m not gonna give you pity, Samantha,” Bethany said. “That’s not what I’m about. We’re friends because we’re honest with each other. And honestly? I’m a little scared by what’s going on with you lately.”

A gnawing shame bit at my stomach lining, and I started scratching at my arm. “Why?”

“Because you’re reminding me of what I used to be like,” Bethany said, leaning forward, staring straight at me. She was so beautiful, and I was so… Not. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t allowed to do whatever I could to be like her, to look more like her. How the hell was that right? 

“It’s… It’s not like that. It’s not the same as it was with you,” I said weakly. 

“Then what is it like?” Bethany said. “What is it that you’re doing? What is this Kayla person having you do?”

“She’s not having me do anything,” I said, fighting back tears. “She’s just… Helping me. She saw where I was at and she wanted to help me.”

“Help you with what?”

“With my body! With my fat, disgusting-”

“Stop talking like that! Please!” Bethany begged. 

“I… I can’t,” I said, the tears finally coming, a river polluted by my mascara flooding down my face. “I don’t know how.”

Bethany breathed in deep through her nose, out through her mouth. “Then let me help you. Please. Just tell me the truth. Are you purging? After you eat, are you purging?”

I wanted to tell her. The words made it all the way to the back of my mouth. But then I saw Kayla in my mind’s eye, cautioning me. Just that very morning, she’d texted me, reminding me to be careful about who I chose to tell about what I was doing. About how they would judge me, try to get me to stop under the guise of helping me, when all they really wanted was for me to go back to being fat and ugly.

So I didn’t answer. I stood up and I walked away. 

“Samantha!” Bethany called after me. 

I started running before she could catch up. 

Eli

“Any particular reason you chose to call us about this?” Mr. Duncan said as he and his wife led me away from the police station and towards their car parked out front. A neighbor had called the cops on Wes and I a few minutes into our fistfight. He’d barely spent a minute in lockup before his dad- some jackass in a crisp suit with a fake-looking Rolex on his wrist- came to bail him out. He’d sneered at me as he left, saying he was gonna press charges… At which point his father smacked him on the back of the head and told him that no, they wouldn’t be, he’d been trespassing on private property and harassing his ex, it would be thrown out of court in minutes. 

That had made me smile, even as I’d been left there in lockup with a bloody nose and a swollen eye no doubt turning black. The cops told me it was time for my one phone call, at which point I’d frozen. 

I sighed as I struggled to keep up with Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, my face and ribs still aching. “Well, because my parents disowned me, the only relatives I have that are still talking to me can’t afford to get caught doing something like this, my boss is in the hospital, my girlfriend’s bio dad would hold this over me and probably be super racist about it, and my girlfriend doesn’t have the money for bail. And also, it’s her birthday.”

Mr. Duncan paused, a look of shock painting his weathered face. Mrs. Duncan looked back at me with an equally strong look. 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Mr. Duncan said. 

“Eli,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Is… Actually, never mind.”

“What?” I asked as we approached Mrs. Duncan’s blue minivan. 

“I almost asked if everything was okay, but given what you just said it’s pretty obvious that everything is not okay.”

“That’s… Uh… Yeah, yeah that’s basically accurate, Professor.”

“I reiterate: Jesus Christ, kid,” Mr. Duncan said. 

“Do you want a ride home?” Mrs. Duncan asked. “You do have somewhere to stay, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” I nodded. “And yes, please, I would really appreciate it.”

I reached for the back-right door of the minivan, but I was stopped by the sudden arrival of a hand on my shoulder. “Honey, do you mind if I have a minute alone with the boy?” Mr. Duncan said. 

A small smile appeared on Mrs. Duncan’s face, but she nodded and got inside the car on the driver’s side. 

“Sir?” I asked, wanting this conversation to be over before it started, wanting this day to over, wanting my life-

“Your girlfriend- is she the reason your parents disowned you?”

I blinked. No beating around the bush with this guy, was there? “Yes, sir.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s trans, sir,” I said, my shoulders slumping. 

“And that’s a problem for your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“And for you?”

“No problem at all, sir,” I said. 

“Good answer,” the old man said, running a hand over his head. “Look, I’m not gonna act like our circumstances are exactly the same, but there’s some definite overlap. My folks… This was a long time ago. The world was a different place in a lot of ways, but in other ways not so much. They met Gloria once and they decided I wasn’t their son anymore. Never even gave me the option to turn away from her. But even if they had, I wouldn’t have done it. Because a man sticks up for the woman he loves. And I get the sense that that’s what you’re doing?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And if your parents offered-”

“They did.”

“And?”

“I punched my dad and spat in my mom’s face,” I replied. 

“Respect,” Mr. Duncan nodded. “Now, with all that in mind: you can’t fight the whole world.”

I bunched my fists reflexively. These days, it almost felt weirder when they weren’t gathered and ready to throw down. “Like hell-”

“Eli, I’m fucking serious,” Mr. Duncan said. “I can see it behind your eyes. You’d burn the whole world down for this girl. You’d tie a lasso around the moon and give it to her. And that’s beautiful. But you’re only human.”

“And I’m just a kid?” I said, expecting the inevitable affirmation. 

“No,” Mr. Duncan said. “I might call you that sometimes, but I’m in my sixties. Obviously, to me, you’re a kid. But as far as these things go… You’re a man. And that’s good- that’s a hell of a lot more than most people your age can say.”

That… Huh. I hadn’t expected that. A small burst of relief shocked through my aching, exhausted body, and I unclenched my fists. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded. “But there’s another side to that coin. You can’t give her the world. You can’t give her the moon. It’s not in your power to do that. Take it from someone who spent a long, long time trying to fix that whole damn world to make it safe for the woman he loves: it won’t work. You’ll drive yourself crazy in the process, and you’ll drive her a little crazy too while you’re so busy martyring yourself that you lose sight of why you’re doing this.”

Fuck. Fuck, he was right. Dammit. FUCK! I exhaled violently, and said, “How do I… How do I stop that from happening, then?”

“You focus on her. And you take care of yourself.”

“You almost make it sound simple, putting it like that.”

“The ideas are simple. It’s living them that’s complicated.”

“Yeah, that… That makes a lot of sense,” I said, the world seeming a bit less overwhelming for a fraction of a moment. 

“Good,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Now come on, let’s get you home.”

I nodded, and I followed him into the car.

The ride home was quiet. Not quite solemn, per se, but… Contemplative. I focused on breathing, on the feeling of sitting on my hands and the wind blowing over my face through the cracked open window, on the Alice in Chains song sounding out of the speakers. 

As they pulled up to Samantha’s house, I said my good-byes, waved to them as they drove away, and I walked up. 

Wes wasn’t there. I didn’t know if Samantha was. I hadn’t heard from her all day, even though I’d missed our date. 

Something was going on with her, and I had my suspicions as to what it was. 

She needed my help. And I needed her help. 

I opened the door, and was greeted by the sound of someone throwing up. I didn’t say anything; I simply closed the door quietly and walked over to the first floor bathroom. Where I found Samantha hunched over the toilet with a hand in her mouth. 

“Hey,” I said. 

She jumped and yelled, looked at me with fear and shame carved into her beautiful face. “Eli! I… Uh… This isn’t… I was just feeling a little sick-”

“Been feeling sick a lot lately, huh?” I said, leaning against the doorframe. She needed me. I needed her. We were hurting, the both of us, and we had to help ourselves… And for us, that also meant helping each other.

Her phone was on the sink, and it dinged. 

She lunged for it. 

I intercepted it, and saw Kayla was texting her advice about what excuses to make for purging. “Guess Kayla’s been helping with you… Feeling sick.”

“It’s not… It’s not like that,” Samantha said, tears in her eyes, her face a mess. 

“Then what is it like?”

“I just… I just wanna be beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.”

“God, no, Eli… I don’t know how I tricked you into thinking that-”

“Oh, fuck off,” I said. 

“I- I’m sorry?”

“You didn’t trick me into anything, Samantha,” I said, reaching forward, flushing the toilet, and running the water on the sink. Steam gathered as it slowly heated up, and I reached into the medicine cabinet over the toilet and retrieved a pack of wet-wipes. “Wanna know something? About how I see you?”

“I-I-”

“The night of my graduation, that night I came to the shop and we talked, really talked, for the first time,” I said, cleaning off her face with a wipe, grabbing a hand-towel and soaking it in warm water and then wiping her face once more. “The night you came out. Do you remember it well?”

“Of course I do,” she said, her face clean but the tears still coming. 

I took her hand and led her into the kitchen, sat her down at the table and put the kettle on, and placed a few bags of throat comfort tea in a mug. “You remember when you fell on top of me?”

She sniffled. “Yeah. I do.”

“You were so embarrassed. You were blushing. But all I could think about was how cute you were.” I stood over her and brushed back strands of her silky black hair, ran my fingers over her scalp. 

“You liar.”

“No, I’m not. I would never lie to you, Samantha,” I said. “Ever. And then when it was just us, and you started telling me about that comic, I thought it again. Cute. So damn cute.”

She giggled then, seemingly in spite of herself. The kettle sang, and I steeped the tea. “Even though I was-”

“You were you,” I said. “And I love you, Samantha Kendrick. I see you. I always have. And I love what I see. When I came back a month later, I saw you again, and you snapped into focus like you did on that first night. I saw the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. I wanted you.”

“D-do y-you not like that I’ve lost weight? Do you still want me?”

“Of course I still want you,” I said. “I love you. No matter what you look like. If it’s what you want, I support you. But I need something from you in return.”

“What?” she said, looking up at me with those big hazel doe-eyes. 

“I need you to love yourself,” I said. “I need you to take care of yourself.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can, Eli.”

“Then I need you to try,” I said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

I brought her the steaming mug of tea, sat down next to her, and squeezed her hand. 

She took a sip of tea, then looked at the floor for a while. 

Finally, she spoke: “Okay. I’ll try.”

I kissed her cheek. “Thank you. For that. And for being you.”

“I should really be thanking you,” she said. 

“One thing at a time, love,” I said. “One thing at a time.”

I couldn’t fight the world. But I could fight for her. That was all that mattered. I had to take care of myself, too- this afternoon had thoroughly proved that I was still pretty messed up about my family. But one thing at a time.

After she finished her tea, I led her to the shower and ran the water as hot as possible. I took off her clothes, and I got in with her, and I washed her hair and her body for her, scrubbing her down to every last inch. And she did the same for me. And then we just… Held each other, standing under the running water until it began to go cold. 

“Happy birthday, Samantha,” I whispered. 

“Thank you, Eli,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, beneath the running water, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, but knowing I could carry it for her. And for me. Because that was what a man did. A year ago, I was still just a kid, but now… Now I had to be more than that. Now I was more than that. No thanks to my family, but thanks in part to this beautiful woman nestled into my arms. And thanks in part to myself as well, for having made the right choice when the time came. 

I couldn’t burn the world down. I couldn’t lasso the moon. But I could take care of myself, and take care of her, and take care of us. That’s what a man does, I reminded myself as I led my woman into our bed.