Page 203 of Embriagado

“And you promised she’d be okay.”

49

SANTIAGO

Since yesterday, the same thought kept nipping at the back of my mind like a parasite.

Did I overreact?

The question gave me no break, and no matter how I tried to distract myself, it kept coming back. No longer hungry, I shoved aside the plate of empanadas Dolores had brought over earlier and got up from the dinner table. Nacio was out with some friends, which was a nice change, although I could have used his company.

After wrapping the leftovers in cling film and putting them in the fridge, I looked around our small house. In an attempt to keep myself busy, I cleaned up the place. Everything seemed neat, but a flicker of light coming from outside caught my attention, and I went to check it out. Opening the front door, I saw that the light on the porch was off. I tried flicking the light back on, but it seemed the bulb had died.

Knowing I had a spare in one of the kitchen drawers, I went over there and started looking for it, but I didn’t have much luck, because the bulb we kept was a wrong fit.

“Fuck.”

Slamming the drawer shut, I scratched my jaw, then decided to let it go and watch some TV instead. Not even five minutes had passed, and I already felt wired. With a deep grunt, I got off the couch, grabbed my shit, and went to the local grocery shop a few streets away. Luckily, it wasn’t a waste of my time, as they had the bulb I needed. While at it, I figured I’d buy myself something to drink. Scanning the shelves, my eyes went over the different labels, but whenever I went to pick something, I could hear Ari’s voice in the back of my mind, telling me it was too sugary or had too much alcohol in it.

“Fucker,” I muttered, placing the beer I grabbed back on the shelf, and went over to pay for the damn bulb.

It was insane how, even when angry, he was still all I could think about. When did I even become this obsessed? There must have been a point where some line was crossed, a line between sanity and utter madness. What was I even mad about? The fact that he was actually the bad guy, or was it him lying to my face? Both things were true at the same time because A, he was a bad guy, and B, he did lie to me. But I guess that I kept looking for a sign, a hint that he was changing, even just a little bit, because then my obsession would make some sort of sense.

Kicking some rocks on the road as I walked up the street, I continued to think about Ari and our future. Did we still have one? If I stuck to my words from yesterday, then no. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t be fighting for him, and still, could I really accept not seeing him again, and not just that, but could I live with knowing I’d broken my promise to him? He needed me. No. He needed someone, and that someone just happened to be me.

“Fuck this shit,” I sighed, rubbing my neck as I looked up at the starry night. All this man brought into my life was chaos, and there I was, yearning for him despite that shit. But when you actually thought about it, in the end, it wasn’t fate or bad luck that led me here, but a poor decision I made on a night like this a few years ago. It was sick how what seemed like a meaningless encounter back then became the turning point of my entire life.

Almost reaching home, I glanced ahead, noticing the red motorcycle parked in front of the house. Gripped by shock, I immediately glanced at our front porch. Because of the burned-out bulb, I could only see a man’s silhouette, but I didn’t need to see more to know it was him. My heart raced as I tightened my grip on the plastic bag I carried. But not wanting to look desperate, I kept my pace steady and walked calmly. It wasn’t until I reached the front gate that Ariyan stepped down from our porch.

“I think the bulb’s burned out,” he said, stating the obvious.

“I know.” I closed the gate behind me. “Just went to the shop to buy a new one.”

“So that’s why you weren’t home,” he murmured, sounding unlike himself.

By that, I mean his voice was low and tinged with a hint of insecurity. And while I was curious about his odd behavior, I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt and instead passed him on my way to the porch.

“Do you need help?” he offered after I moved to fix the light.

Ignoring his offer, I removed the burned bulb and screwed in the new one. I guess the light switch was on because it lit up immediately, and only then did I look at him. He seemed worried and tired, and while it made me feel slightly better, it wasn’t enough.

“Why are you here?”

He opened his mouth to say something but instead averted his gaze to the floor.

“I… This morning… I mean, maybe you’d like⁠—”

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

His jaw tensed before he glanced up. “I saw there’s a fair by the beach and wondered if you wanted to go.”

To his credit, this was probably the last thing I thought he’d say, and, surprised, I stared at him.

“With you?”

“Well, obviously.”

“You’re in no place to be a smart-ass.”