Page 61 of This I Promise You
“Well, I’m excited to see it! I’m sure you’ll be amazing.” I drop my school stuff off in my room and go back to sit on a bar stool at the kitchen island.
“Thanks, boo!Anyway, stop deflecting—therapy, how was it?”
“It was really good actually.” I nod. Huxley’s putting the finishing touches on her infamous homemade four-cheese twice-baked mac and cheese I’ve heard so much about. After weeks of me begging, she’s finally making it and it looks like Huxley has completely torn the kitchen apart in the process. My diet is fucked.
“Dr. Orleen is brilliant,” I continue. “She’s really helped me see things from new perspectives. We’ve talked through every bit of my life and have been combing through…situations to work through the trauma. She’s great.”
“That’s great! Toldja she’s amazing. Truly the best therapist I’ve ever had.” She takes some store-bought bread crumbs and sprinkles them over the entire dish.
“Yeah, well, there’s still a lot to work through, but I feel like these past two weeks with her have been sort of monumental. Never in my life have I felt like this. She even gave me some homework outside of the self-reflective journaling she has me doing.”
“Oh yeah? What kinda homework?” she says, distracted.
“Uh—”
Her head snaps to look up at me. “Obvi you donothave to tell me if you don’t want to. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
I shrug. “Well, it’s…like, sexual homework. Like,withEaston. Nothing too heavy, just what I’m up for is all. I know she and I haven’t met much, but I sort of brought it up and she gave me some ideas to think about.”
“That’s fair. You think you’re up for it?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I shrug again and look down at my hands, forever fucking with my cuticles. “Maybe? I think so. Like I said, I feel like I’ve grown a lot these past two weeks. I’ve been really trying to get my shit together. For me, for Easton, for you. I don’t know. But she gave me things to do in case it doesn’t work out. Best case, it works. Middle ground, it’s a little awkward and we stop and move on. Worst case, I call her.”
Huxley puts the dish of mac and cheese in the oven, takes off her oven mitts, and turns to me. “Paul, first, time isn’t real. Ever since you told me about your biggest fear being ‘time’ I’ve done some research and I honestly believe that time is just a human thing we’ve created to understand things better. So it doesn’t matter if it’s been two weeks or two years, go at whatever pace works for you. You’re smart. You are very self-aware and I think that you should give it a try. Never know if it’ll work if you don’t try it. Secondly, Easton and I are here for you. We get it. I’m not sure if he’s ever been in therapy before, but I know I have and no matter what happens, you’ll be okay. Though, please be careful. I don’t want you to do more than you’re ready for, ya know? But, if you need anything, I gotchu, boo.” She leans over the island and grabs my hands. “No matter what, I gotchu.”
“Thank you, Huxley. I know. It means a lot.” I chuckle. “It’s actually funny you brought up the ‘time’ thing. The piece I’m performing tonight is about time. Also, Dr. Orleen said I was self-aware as well. So that’s comforting even if I feel like my brain’s broken. It’s nothing but unorganized chaos with absolutely no chill.”
“OMG! You’re performing tonight?” She starts cleaning her mess and I hop up to help her. “You haven’t done that since the first week of school.”
“I’m going to try, yeah. I wrote this piece for my realism poetry class—well, it’s my midterm actually—and I feel like it’ll do well in front of a crowd. I even have it memorized. I think. I hope.”
“OMG, look at you!” I knew she’d be excited about that.
“I fucking knowwwww. I’m trying. Thought you’d be proud of that, Little Miss Theater Geek.”
“I most certainly am.” She starts shooing me out of the kitchen. “Now hit the gym like I know you want to—but no longer than half an hour to do, like, cardio or something, young man—and then wash up. By the time you’re done, dinner will be ready. Easton and Devina will be here at six to eat before we head to Uptown Slam. Oh shit, and before I forget, I’m having a dinner party tomorrow. I have a proposition for everyone.” She claps like London Tipton, then adds, “It’s going to be so exciting! I can’t wait! Keep your spring break opeeeeen.”
Oh hell.
* * *
I’ve only worked a handful of times at Uptown Slam since I started. They’re training me to be a bartender, but Jeremy doesn’t think I’m ready yet. Once he gives me the green light I’ll be able to work Thursday nights, and fuck yeah do I want to. It’s packed in here tonight for their monthly poetry slam. Can you imagine the tips?
Their monthly slams are pretty well known. Not like the open mic we went to before. It’s so much more intense than that. I had to sign up a week ahead of time even though I work here. It’s intense and I’m so fucking nervous I might piss myself stupid.
Now might be a great time to start drinking.
Easton finds a table toward the far right of the stage—stage left is what Huxley calls it—at the back of the building. I take the seat against the wall so I can ground myself. Grounding is something Dr. Orleen taught me to do when I’m feeling anxious, overwhelmed, or nervous. Easton’s at my side holding my hand. He squeezes it and kisses me on the cheek and I just want to burst into tears from cuteness. He’s distracting me and it’s working.
“Your kisses are the perfect distraction, Belle.” I breathe out.
He gives me one of those cute skewed grins. “You okay? Your hands are clammy.”
“I thought I smelled something fishy,” Huxley chimes in, and Devina bursts out laughing. Devina has been a nice addition to our little group. She and Huxley are officially together as of last week. She’s like this dope as shit ’90s grunge K-pop/e-girl. She haslongdark hair and only wears black and it suits her. She and Huxley together look like the ultimate bisexual power couple and I fucking stan. She’s about as tall as Easton. Huxley’s five foot flat without the heels, but even their height difference gives power couple vibes. She’s even been teaching Huxley some Korean. It’s cute.
“Okay, screw you,” I say and I flip her off. “Both of you.”
“‘Alright, alright, alright,’ in the great words of Matthew McConaughey. Everyone sit your asses down, the show is about to begin, like,now.” Jeremy’s voice blares through the mic. He pauses a brief moment to let everyone settle. “Dope. Okay. So! Welcome, everyone, to our monthly poetry slam at the mosticonicbar inallof North Carolina—actually, fuck it, in all of NorthandSouth Carolina!” He finishes and everyone screams and claps and snaps and hollers at him. He lives for this shit.
