Someone Like You

Chapter 23 - Tsunami

Zack and I had plans Wednesday night for dancing and take out from our favorite Indian place, Bombay House. Since they didn't deliver, I called and ordered the food before leaving clinic, picking it up on my way over to his place. We'd made the mistake in the past of eating before dancing, and then either being too full to dance, or dancing anyway and then feeling sick, so this time we had discussed putting the food away and dancing first. When I arrived, though, I wasn't sure dancing was even on the table.

Zack was a mess. Unshaven, unshowered, unbrushed, circles under his eyes. He looked a right, hot mess. Upon seeing him, I immediately pulled him into me for a hug, which he responded to tepidly with a hug of his own.

"I'm fine. Really. I'm fine" he said, pulling away and skulking back to the couch. He was watching Real House Wives of New Jersey reruns so I knew that he was far from fine. I grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off, he didn't even flinch, just kept staring at the black TV screen.

"Is this about Michael?" I asked, knowing in advance that of course this was about Michael. "Have you guys spoken since he went back?"

"We have. I took your advice and told him that I wanted the whole Leave it to Beaver package with a little house and a white picket fence and two kids and a dog named Lassie. He couldn't have run away faster."

"I think you're mixing up your 50s TV shows. What did he say exactly?" I sat down next to him on the couch.

"He said he needed to think about it. That was three days ago and I haven't heard from him since."

I didn't know what to say. I felt responsible, having urged Zack to be honest with Michael about what he was really looking for and also felt very protective of Zack, not wanting him to be hurt. Ultimately, I did nothing, I just sat there, letting him decide our fate for the evening. He did nothing for a few minutes, I watched the rise and fall of his chest wondering how best to comfort him.

"Fuck this!" I said and leaned over and grabbed him by the balls. He squealed and looked over at me in horror. "Now that I have your fucking attention, listen up. This isn't you. The moping, the feeling sorry for yourself. The messy apartment and not shaving. Where's the confident badass that I know and love? Will you please go shower and shave and find the self-absorbed little cock-sucker before it's too late?" I released his testicles slowly, but kept my gaze trained on him in case he made any sudden movements to return the assault.

He looked down at his groin, laughed, took a deep breath and slowly stood up. He walked into the bathroom, shut the door and I could hear the water from the shower.

I looked around his apartment and noticed just how far things had deteriorated. There were cartons of ice cream and old take out containers littered over the living room and kitchen. Clothes were scattered everywhere. I got up, picking up some dishes from the coffee table, and set to work cleaning up. By the time he had showered, brushed teeth, shaved and dressed I had collected his clothes for laundry, done a load of dishes, thrown away all of the take out detritus and was getting the Indian food out. He crossed over to me, putting his hand on the bag of Indian food, stopping me from unpacking it.

"Dancing first. I don't want to throw up Indian food. It tastes great going down, not so much coming up."

"Fair enough. Your house, your rules. What are we dancing to?" I asked, relieved to see that my Zack was still in there.

He walked over to his stereo, turned it on and picked up his phone, which had been on the coffee table. "I've got just the thing." He said. Soon Stay with me by Sam Smith was on. I met him in the middle of the dance floor and he glided me through a modified Waltz. As the song ended, we looked in each other's eyes and I started crying. I wiped my eyes, apologizing for the outburst, and he hugged me close.