Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles) (8 page)

"Yes," she breathes.
 

"Have you ever had something so close that you can taste it, only to put it in the palm of your hand and have it shatter into a million tiny pieces?" I ask.
 

I hear her shift, I can feel her presence drawing closer, but she doesn't touch me, she doesn't do anything for a moment, causing me to finally lift my head. She's leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. "No," she finally answers.
 

"Well, that is what happens every time I get close to him."
 

"Why?"
 

She asks the question I knew was coming and I scrub at my face. "I…Addison, I've never told anyone this outside of my shrink. I don't even know if I can tell you."

"So Eric doesn't know?"
 

"No, he's the last person on the planet I want to tell." I stand up and start to pace in front of the couch.
 

"Why not tell him?"
 

"Because…because…because I can't fucking be with him and it kills me every fucking day."

MY conversation with Addison ended shortly after that without another word said. She didn't press the issue and I certainly couldn't explain it to her. Not explaining it to her actually made me feel guilty, which in turn makes me feel like I'm falling apart when it comes to Eric. I can't seem to bring myself to discuss it with him and if I am going to tell anyone, he deserves to be the first to know.
 

When I leave the room, Casey is in the hallway. "He's not here."
 

I nod and slide my key into the slot and step into the room I share with Eric. I can smell him, his cologne, his body wash. The room is still warm with steam from the shower and I go straight to my bag.
 

"Was he okay?" I ask Casey who's followed me into the room.
 

He shrugs, "You know how he is, sometimes you can read him and other times you can't. Today was a ‘can't’ kind of day. He wasn't giving anything away, but I am pretty sure you owe him an explanation."

"Jesus, if I could fucking give him one, don't you think I would have by now?"
 

"Hey chill, bro, I'm not trying to piss you off. But you know as well as I do that he's your best friend and I can't imagine you pissing away your years of friendship over a squabble."
 

"A squabble, really Casey?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "We're not six."
 

"You fucking know what I mean."
 

"He kissed me, Casey," I tell him as I toss my shave kit on the bed.
 

"And what, you didn't want him to?"
 

"No, I didn't want him to."
 

"Okay, seriously? Where the fuck have you been? He's hot for you, Mouse, has been since the moment I fucking met you guys in New York. You can't be oblivious to it because I see you doing the same fucking thing to him. You both pick up random people in a piss poor attempt to make the other one jealous, you fucking stare each other down like you're undressing them. If you can't fucking see that, I can see why he would be fucking pissed off at you."
 

Casey turns to leave. "Just because I look at him, just because I pick up random chicks doesn't mean I can fucking be with him, Casey."
 

"Why the fuck not?" He turns back around to face me. "Are you afraid we're going to judge you?"
 

"Of course not."
 

"Then what the fuck are you so afraid of?" he asks me, positively pissed off.
 

"Why the fuck do you care?"
 

"I don't."
 

"Bullshit, Casey, you wouldn't be fucking arguing with me if you didn't fucking care, why the hell does it matter to you?"
 

"Because you're like my two best fucking friends, you're both so goddamn miserable apart like this. It's time you fucking got out of your head and…"
 

"Fuck you, Casey, it's not that fucking easy." I fall into the chair I was sitting in the other night.
 

"I fail to see how it's not easy. You just do it." His voice is hard.
 

"You can't do it if you throw up in the process," I mutter.
 

"What the fuck does that mean?"
 

"Nothing, forget it."
 

"Fuck you, Mouse, you can't fucking say something like that and then expect me to let it go."
 

"I can't fucking do it because every fucking time I try, or he tries, I end up a violent, vomiting mess."
 

He takes a step back. "Why the hell would you do that?"
 

"I can't fucking help it." Rage colors my vision. He's fucking dragging this shit out of me. "I swear to fucking god, Casey, if you say anything to him I will beat the shit out of you." My hands flex repeatedly.
 

"What the hell am I supposed to tell him? That the idea of being with him repulses you? You can fucking tell him that shit yourself. I will not get in the middle of that. You'll fucking break his heart," He tells me as he crosses his arms across his chest.
 

"I've already done that. Last night. I told him to give it up, that we would never be. But he won't let it go."
 

"I wouldn't either. Not without an explanation first. He deserves that much."
 

"You know, Casey, I thought you were my friend too."
 

"Fuck! I am, damn it, but I won't watch you break his heart for no fucking reason or at the very least not without an explanation. If he repulses you that bad, he needs to know that. It's not fair for him to hang on to something that will never be," he tells me.
 

"That's what I was trying to do. I was trying to tell him it will never happen, but he's holding on to this hope that it will and I don't know what else to tell him. How the hell else do I explain it to him?"
 

"How about you start with the truth?" He raises an eyebrow at me. "Tell him why he repulses you."
 

"He doesn't repulse me, and I can't fucking tell him because I can't watch it destroy him."
 

"You're one seriously cryptic motherfucker, you know that?" He leans back against the wall, settling in for an explanation.

"I wish I could explain it to you, Casey, I really do, but I can't, just like I couldn’t explain it to Addison. If I am going to waste the breath it is going to take to explain it to someone, it will be Peacock and no one else."
 

"Then explain it to him, Mouse. He needs to fucking know. If you won't be with him, he needs to know why, he needs to be able to move on if you're so hell bent on not being with him."
 

I stand up in frustration. "How do you let go of something you love?" I whisper.
 

He gives me an annoyed snort. "You don't. You set them free. He deserves to be set free."
 

"I don't know if he'll ever be free. I can't let him go like that. That's where this is a problem. You see, I need to set him free, he needs to love other people, he needs to find someone else, but I can't let him do that."
 

"Why the hell not?" He straightens.
 

"Because I'm in fucking love with him, I don't want him to find someone else, but I can't be with him."
 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Calvin, you've got to be shitting me. How in the hell can you fucking be in love with someone and not be with them?" He shakes his head at me. "This is even more fucked up than I imagined. You're so wrapped up in your head that you can't let it go."
 

I give him a humorless laugh. "You have no fucking idea what I've been through."
 

"Been through is the operative phrase in that sentence."

He pushes off the wall and takes a hardened stance, pointing at me. "You better figure your shit out, Calvin, and you better fucking tell him whatever it is that has you so screwed up in the fucking head because he deserves that much, he deserves to know why in the hell you can't be with him and he needs the fucking truth. Skirting it will not allow either one of you to move on."
 

With that statement he walks out the door, his piss poor attempt at slamming the door is almost comical, but I can't even begin to laugh about it.
 

He's fucking right. Eric deserves an explanation and I have got to find a way to tell him.

"SERIOUSLY, you need to talk to him." Casey isn't backing down and hasn't since we came downstairs to grab a bite to eat before taking off for Miami. One more show and then a much needed, week long break.
 

"Don't you think I've been trying, Casey? I mean, come on, how can I not? He's been throwing me away, throwing up on me, and you think I want to sit back and do nothing about it?"
 

Casey's face turns somber. "No, I know you need to talk to him and I'm sure he's not making it very easy for you."
 

I shake my head and go back to looking at the menu, trying to decide what to eat when your appetite is slowly sliding down the drain isn't all that appealing.
 

"There is seriously something up with him," Casey sputters on the other side of the table.
 

I look over my menu at him. "Duh. Though I can't even begin to imagine what it is, other than the fact that he's repulsed by the fact that another man likes him."
 

Casey raises an eyebrow. "Likes? Really, Eric?"
 

I shrug and go back to staring blankly at my menu. Casey figured it out a long time ago that my infatuation with Calvin is deeper than liking someone. In fact, it's nearly reached my soul, but fortunately for me, there is some type of barrier there, preventing him from penetrating too deep; protecting me from pain I don't really deserve to feel. "I repulse him," I tell Casey without looking at him.
 

Then suddenly my menu is dipping down so that I have no choice but to look at him. "No, you don't. Whatever it is that is going on with Calvin is far deeper than superficial, and you and I both know that your feelings are not one-sided. You've seen the way he looks at you, hell, we've all seen it."