precedes the long run
"You stayed a while," Chris says, softly, a question.
"Yeah, well, sometimes I'm not as smart as I look," Lance says.
New Year's Eve, 2010.
1. Don't drink.
There are 15 cases of Champagne on ice. Twelve kinds of imported vodka. The debut of a new merlot. You ordered more than enough for the four hundred expected guests and the only thing with an alcohol content to pass your lips all night is a sip of Coppola's wine. It's about being polite, and it was never that you couldn't have one drink. It was that one wasn't enough.
A year after nothing was enough and maybe three people at this party know what happened. You carry a glass of Perrier and lime and if someone asks, you suggest they try the Grey Goose.
2. Don't pretend to drink.
A year of not drinking, two months in rehab and you've done the rest through sheer will because the whole point of spending so much on a clinic was so you'd end up with the skills you'd need to stay sober. Justin says twelve-step spirituality is cardboard coping and it's the only part of the whole mess you agree on.
You thank god every day and pray for the strength not to drink. You don't need a roomful of strangers to make you feel powerless.
Justin smiles when you order Scotch and he's already too far gone to notice you never drink it.
3. Be a better friend.
Every year you say you're going to call Joey, JC and Chris. In that order, because Joey was your best friend for a long stretch of time there, and you really did love JC for a while even if nothing ever happened. And Chris because you all promised you'd never quit on each other but you two were maybe the ones who really meant it. You meant it when you said it.
Every year you skip Joey and Chris and call JC, if you can find him. JC thinks you and Justin are happy. He thinks you were really busy shooting a film. You let him.
4. Be a better boyfriend.
You slept with a guy while you were away, because everyone cheats when they're left with nothing but nicotine and their own flimsy excuses.
Justin fucks you with a sullen, sad moan, like it's a chore. Everyone else he's fucked while you were gone and since you've been back shakes your hand with a wink and a smile. You think he probably still emotes with other people.
5. Leave.
One year. You learned you're supposed to take things step by step. Things almost never get better again after they've gotten so much worse, but you can't walk away now. Not yet. So you give yourself one year here, with Justin, in LA.
Maybe it won't take that long.
END.
Credits: For Jae's defining moment vignette challenge. Thanks to everyone who talked me out of including any of these pieces last go 'round.