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BOOK THREE

In the morning very little had changed. He was miserable and she must have been too. A day was spent doing little things. Walking and drinking coffee and breathing. After dinner came dessert and after dessert came cards; after cards came chess with her father; after chess, Ashleigh's traitorous kiss. A fire. And she left him unfulfilled. There was a fire in him and it couldn't be put out. Not when she left. She heaped the wood inside him, all that dry kindling, and she stoked the flames when she left. She let it consume him. What prompted that sort of behavior in her?

But he knew he deserved it. She had every right to play along with the charade. He'd done it for so long. She didn't want it to be over. Of course, that was it. She wanted it to be. So she would convince herself it was. No matter the cost.

Alone in his room, plagued with want -- want of her, want of him, want of solace -- he sought release from his agony.

Any distraction would be worth his time. But there were no distractions to be had. He tried reading. A Farewell to Arms only reminded him of Rian. He didn't have anything else. So he stood outside in the cold. It wasn't snowing but it was damn cold. His breath came in chattering gasps. He couldn't do it but what choice did he have?

"Hello?" his own voice hurt in the cold. His phone trembled in his hand.

"Oliver?" Rian sounded odd.

"Rian? Hey. I just wanted to check up on you."

"It's midnight."

"Later here. Listen, is something wrong?"

"What?"

"Nothing. You just sound tired."

"It's midnight."

"Right, right. I'm sorry. Hope I didn't wake you."

"I'm fine. It's all right."

"I've missed you."

"Yeah."

"You're not still angry?"

"I'm just feeling out of it is all."

"I'm sorry. I'll let you go then."

"Sorry. Hope you get back safe."

"Yeah. Thanks. Love you."

"Yeah. You too."

"Good night."

Rian hung up without saying good night. Oliver dropped his phone into his coat pocket and sat on the curb. Not a car passed through the night. He had no company but the dim streetlights and their pockets of eerie orange light. It was a little disturbing being out alone so late but it was far worse in his room. Ashleigh didn't understand and she'd made his life a hell without realizing it. And now she knew or had some hint of it and she still made his life hell. But it wasn't her fault. She was only playing a part he'd written for her long before. When he fell asleep it was in his bed but the window open and his sheets on the floor and dressed only in his shirt. He slept only a little while, maybe two hours. Ashleigh woke him.

"Good God Oliver, what's been going on in here?"

"I'm sorry," he looked down at himself with bleary eyes. She'd draped the sheets back over him. She grinned, a mad, hopeless look in her features. Oliver squirmed, clutched his legs under the sheet.

"I hope you didn't see too much."

"Never mind that. Are you awake?"

"Awake as I'll ever be."

"You'll never learn to sleep, will you?"

"Not like this."

"Come on, you'll be late for breakfast."

"Breakfast?"

"We're going out. The whole family, and that means you too. Don't take your time though. We'll leave you if you can't be ready in twenty minutes."

"What's the occasion?"

"It's your last day here. Don't you remember?"

"I'd quite forgotten," he said, reaching for his pants. He fastened them under the blanket and then stood. "I'll be ready in fifteen."

"We're waiting on you. Don't be long," she kissed his forehead and left the room. God, he thought, I hope the water's hot.

It was. He showered for five minutes and nearly fell asleep under the water. The water underfoot made him slip and he caught himself awake on the towel. Then he turned off the water and got out to dry. He used a hair dryer to warm himself as quickly as possible and was ready in very nearly twenty minutes. Twenty five minutes past waking, he was dressed and marginally clean. The family had waited, despite Ashleigh's warning. She looked annoyed. He got with the group and found out that they were planning to walk. It was a local diner, less than a mile away, and the walk was not hard. But the sun was very bright and he muttered curses to himself over it.

When they got to the restaurant he was unimpressed. Very much the hearty winter-in-the-midwest sort of meal that he'd been expecting. He'd have much preferred a breakfast burrito -- or something with avocado, if nothing else. The conversation was dull as well. At least the coffee was okay. A few more hours and he'd be on a plane and out of here. But he'd still have to talk to Ashleigh.

Routine always seemed to make life pass more quickly. To his chagrin, routine had robbed him of much of his time with Rian. To his fortune, routine had quickly snuffed his Chicago trip under the rug. He wondered to himself if routine was just a facet of life everywhere or if it was a vice he fell into easily. Chicago had been meant to break a routine, and it had, but only by establishing one of its own. Well, so be it. At least he got to pick where he spent it.

Unfortunately it had become quickly clear that Ashleigh was getting swept up into his routine. Assimilated. He desperately wanted to know what to do and couldn't figure it for the life of him. She had not suggested they go out to another fancy restaurant. They had not watched a film either (Oliver in particular felt this was a cliche to be avoided like the plague and would have said so). He was surprised to find himself alone with her, the family gone. They ate and discoursed, as always, but he couldn't recall what they'd talked about or what they'd done that night. All that he could remember was the memory of her lips on his. The feeling of her on his chest amid the folds of his unbuttoned shirt.

It had not lasted forever. The feeling had erased his concepts of time. It was passion, it was bliss, it was over. Time returned and flooded his veins. He rose like some ghastly apparition. More than ever was he aware of the loneliness of being apart. The aching had in no way been aided though it had been inflamed. It was pain, it was emptiness, it had only just begun.

They were there in bed together. In her fatigue Ashleigh had chosen to succumb. She slept, her warm body against his. It felt odd, the chest that had just been heaving, now so still and so quiet. It rose and fell in small strokes, detailing a scene.

Oliver did not sleep. The assault of emotions prevented him. He lay there and reached to the bedside table and picked up his book. He opened it to the appropriate page and began to read.

Before dawn he was up and in the plane. She did not come with him to San Diego but she would be back along shortly. He did not relish the thought. But for now she was behind him, and Rian was ahead. There was not all bad in the world.

He knew it was San Diego when he stepped out. Heat dry and palpable nearly knocked him over with its own brute force. And in January! Well, that was San Diego. He took up his luggage and got a taxi home. The familiar sound of 91X swelled within the cab and whisked him quickly back to his own world. Chicago had been a dream. Hadn't it? Here, here, this was reality. Billie Joe Armstrong's voice crooned sweetly at him, "Nice Guys Finish Last."

Boy, there was nothing like home. Nothing like home at all. Although he hadn't decided yet if that was a good thing.

Of course, when he got back to the house, the first thing Jeff asked wasn't How did it go? or Are things okay? but Did you bang her? He didn't have time to be angry at Jeff about that. It seemed that the apartment had been torn apart in his absence. Jeff on the couch. Rian... Where was Rian? He finally spotted the skunk lying on his back in the little passage between the room and the kitchen. The floors and countertops in the apartment were strewn with empty bottles and cans. Oliver was stunned. He stood there slackjawed.

Jeff looked up blearily. He followed the fox's gaze to where Rian lay unconscious.

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about him. He can hold his liquor. You wouldn't believe it," Jeff chuckled, then groaned. He put his head back down slowly.

"What the hell have you done."

"What? Just a little fun is all."

"The hell do you think you've done."

"Jesus Oli, relax. You're acting like I've killed the guy."

"Rian's an alcoholic! You're not supposed to -- Oh, what's the use," Oliver looked away. "You're impossible Jeff."

"You're kidding! Hey, give me a break. I had no idea. No, come on, listen -- don't be like that. I had no idea."

"You're impossible. I can't believe you," Oliver bent and tried to wake Rian. The skunk's eyes opened, but slowly.

"You okay?" Oliver asked.

"W-What? Oli?" Rian blinked. He tried to sit up and seemed to have a hard time of it.

"Easy, easy," Oliver helped Rian sit, one arm behind his shoulders and guiding him up. The skunk shook his head once and quickly turned and vomited.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Rian covered his face. "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's all right," said Oliver.

"No, not that. I mean, the drinking. I didn't mean to."

"Hey, it's okay. Come on, let me help you up. You're gonna be all right."

"No Oli, you're not making a big deal of it. It is a big deal."

"We can talk about it later."

"Later there won't be time. Don't you understand? You'll pretend it didn't happen."

"As far as I'm concerned, it didn't. I'm going to do everything I can to keep you in line."

"It's only -- I didn't mean to. I was frightfully upset with you."

"Then it's my fault as much as Jeff's. Only don't blame yourself."

All the while he led Rian to the bathroom and helped him clean up. Jeff sat on the couch and smoked a rolled cigarette. He didn't immediately offer an apology but he looked pretty worked up. What were you thinking, Oliver thought. You weren't thinking. That's what you were doing. You weren't thinking and you gave it to him. Well, I'm not thinking either. Should never have left him with you. And shouldn't be doing what I'm doing with him either. It's not my fault. It's only I don't know what else to do. It's not my fault, right?

He wanted to put Jeff out but Rian insisted that the wolf stay. It seemed that they'd bonded a little over the break, even if over the wrong stuff. Furthermore, Rian claimed it would be wrong to put out someone in need, let alone a friend. Oliver wasn't so sure, but he'd do it for Rian.

Anyways, so much for sobriety. It would be tough, but he'd help Rian through it. What else was there to do?

Later that week, they all went to a show. Again, Duke's band played. Oliver had never known Duke well -- he'd been a friend of Jeff's, more than anything -- but the free concerts were cool. None of the bands were big shots but the one called Shawshank Redeemed had sure given it their everything. Most of the bands were pretty hum-drum, musically speaking, but they played loud. Loud was what really mattered.

"Pretty unlit show, huh?" Jeff said. Oliver shrugged. Rian said,

"It was okay."

"Did I ever tell you you're pretty all right? You know, for a --"

"Watch what you say," Oliver interjected.

"I was going to say skunk. Jesus, Oli, you think I hate him? Anyways, yeah. You're pretty all right for a skunk."

"And you won't let me forget it," Rian smirked a little. What had happened? Had sobriety made Rian...uptight? This smiling, joking Rian was more like what Oliver had known in college.

"I'm telling you guys, that show was un-fucking-lit."

"You know what," said Oliver to Jeff, "Why don't you take this bill and walk down to the In-N-Out."

"Dammit Oli, you know I can't turn down free food!"

"Go on. We'll catch up with you in a minute."

"A minute?"

"Maybe a few."

"Whatever. Be cool." Jeff made off with the money. Oliver waved him away.

"What's this about?" Rian asked. The fox was facing him very closely.

"I'm worried about you."

"What's to be worried about?"

"You've been acting quite different since I came back."

"What, you think I'm sick or something?"

"That's just it. I'm worried about your health."

"I'm fine. I'm fine... Just, I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have stopped drinking."

"Rian."

"I know! I know. You can't let me."

"I won't."

"But I do so wish I could," Rian shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fuck."

"You're gonna be okay?"

"Yes. Please. I've just been... Shaken. Life's a bit of a tumult right now."

Oliver sighed. He said,

"Tell me about it."

Rian smiled, hugging him, kissing him firmly. A feeling both of them had missed. He leaned back and Oliver saw something he thought he'd forgotten -- Rian was happy. Honest-to-God happiness. How could it seem so foreign, how could it surprise him so much? Then he felt Rians finger's graze his thigh and the skunk winked.

"Let's not dwell on the sad stuff. If I can forget about it, so can you. Let's go meet Jeff at the In-N-Out, and we'll talk about the shitty parts later, huh? How about it?"

"Whatever you say."

But they lingered in the parking lot, linking their hands together, and Oliver pulled Rian over to the alley. He pushed him against the wall then, catching Rian by surprise, and kissed him. A long kiss, soft and loud. For the first time in ages, since Oliver had first announced his plan to visit Ashleigh, they indulged each other. Their hands groped and grabbed each other, their lips entwined, coming apart from each other with little gasps, only to attack again with renewed ferocity. Just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Oliver pulled back, and Rian stepped away from the wall. Oliver had pulled the skunk's sweater down, nearly over his shoulder, and Rian took the time to adjust it. Then he straightened his glasses and smoothed down his hair.

"We'll finish that later, too," Rian said.

They began the short walk down the street to the In-N-Out. When they got close Jeff yelled at them.

"Took your lazy asses long enough to get here!" he was sitting at an outside table. "I wasn't sure if you guys were hungry. I bought you drinks though."

"You mean I bought drinks."

"No, I did. I just used your money."

"Semantics," Rian butted in. He sat down and sipped at the Diet Coke. Oliver's was that classic In-N-Out cocktail, half-tea-half-pink-lemonade, enjoyed with a side of spicy yellow chilies. He burned his mouth on the peppers and cooled it down again with the icy beverage.

He looked up.

The night sky was awfully black and awfully empty. It had been a good night though, had left him happy, and he did not feel any loneliness creeping up on him. Jeff was an ass but at least he knew it. At least he tried to be sociable. And at least he got along with Rian now. That made him a little more bearable. He thought once of Ashleigh and shivered, the emptiness placing its hands on his shoulders. He shook them off and dared not look back at the black wave over his shoulder. He looked straight ahead at Jeff and at Rian -- especially at Rian -- and he smiled and thought of all the good things to come and the wonderful future they'd have together.