My Love, My Drug, My Release

Paul's Perspective

At around five or so, I left the green room to wander around the kitchen. I let my hands graze over bottles of liquor and cans of beer, allowing the desire to drink fill me and then pass. The only reason Linda was off my ass was because of my sobriety, and I wasn't going to fuck it up just because my songs were turning out like shit. No matter what I wrote or how I changed it, all of them sounded like rote garbage.

I didn't like to admit it, even to myself, that I came out of my hobbit hole just in time to see Lo come home from cheerleading practice. It was fun to pretend we just ran into each other, watch her get all flustered no matter how many times it happened, avoid my eyes and wipe the perspiration from her brow. She was always so sweaty, even after the drive home in air conditioning. I could tell she wanted to get away from me, maybe because she thought she looked bad or some other ridiculous idea, but would always get a glass of water first. Once I stood in front of the cabinet, just to see what Lo would do, and she did not disappoint. Instead of getting a cup, she just stuck her head right under the sink and drank from the spigot, then went to her room, wiping water off her chin. 

That Wednesday, however, she was late, and I was forced to realize what I was doing: standing in my own kitchen, stirring yogurt without eating it so that I could catch a glimpse of a fifteen-year-old in her short-shorts and a sweat-soaked t-shirt. 

When the door finally opened, I was surprised to hear voices, two of them. One was Lo's distinct, flat alto, and a second, full of dips and peaks that made Lorraine sound monotone in comparison. My brows pinched together as I waited to see who my step-daughter had brought home. 

"Oh, hello Paul," Lo said, smiling widely at me for the first time since I don't even know when. "This is my friend Thelma."

The girl she was referring to was a slim, pretty blonde wearing spandex shorts and a stomach-baring top that made Lo's revealing outfit look modest in comparison. I remembered there was a book Derek told me about when we were getting high about a man who falls in love with nymphets instead of older women, because of the way their bodies looked, the flat chests and narrow hips. It was a segway into why he should be allowed to fuck underage fans, and the whole idea never made much sense to me, until quite recently.

"Hi Thelma, I'm Paul, Lo's- well, uh, I'm married to her mother." I scratched the back of my head, my face feeling warm. 

"Well, we're going to go to the living room to hang out," Lo said before she left with her friend.

Despite feeling like a creep, I lingered just out sight, listening to what they were saying, and I was more than disappointed that it didn't involve me. 

"Have you talked to Matthew recently?" Thelma asked.

"Who's Matthew?" Lo replied, and I had a similar reaction.

"The hot guy prefect in detention," she explained. "I meant it when I said he was cute. You should really hook up with him, just to get over Brandon if nothing else."

So Lo hadn't told Thelma about us. That was good, it was something I made her promise the night of her birthday, so I should be happy, grateful, or at least relieved. But, instead, I had the urge to scream at that whore friend of hers that Lorraine didn't need to sleep with some random prep school arsehole because she already had me. And if she wasn't 'over' Brandon after what we did, she never would be.

But Lo had already changed the subject. "I went to Friday detention with Gallagher, we were the only two there, and I had to go the bathroom so Mr. Grant walked me-"

"Oh, don't tell me, he made a pass at you." The two of them giggled hysterically. "He's a total creep, it's practically a St. Peter's rite of passage to get hit on by him. You didn't actually do anything, did you?"

"No, but he patted me down and touched my legs and my boobs, it was creepy."

"There's a rumor that Ginger actually slept with him though," Thelma said so quietly I had to take a step closer to the doorway just to hear. "She denies it, says she's a virgin, but it took months for the squad to come back around to her. I mean, he's hot, but to actually sleep with him is going too far. If anyone but Rosemary was captain, she'd be gone, but Rosie's practically a saint. Don't even think about him, it'd be social suicide."

I couldn't take it anymore, so I popped my head in, smiling even though I felt like punching a wall. "Um, I'm going to head out to see some friends..." I trailed off, hoping Thelma would get up to leave, but the two of them just sat there, staring at me. "Your mom's asleep upstairs if you need her."

"She's not my mom, Paul, but thanks." 

Tipping an imaginary hat, I left the room, my hands trembling so bad I couldn't even get the side door open. I didn't want Lorraine to be alone with Thelma down there, even with her mom upstairs. And the fact that it was a girlfriend and not boyfriend, for some reason, didn't lessen my anxiety, not even a little.

I'm going to do another Paul's Perspective in a couple chapters to show where he goes, but it would've ended up going on too long, and I wanted to show more of Lo's perspective before we get to that. Thank you all for reading!!!