Lucky Stars

"Why did you leave me?" I barely whispered it, but he heard me.

"I was scared. It's the worst excuse ever, but I was so scared." He ran his hands up and down my shoulder. He shifted back into the corner of the couch and he pulled me along with him. He leaned back and I was laying in his arms, with my head on his chest.

We were touching from head to toe but we couldn't see each other's faces. It felt oddly safe to lay with him like this. I relaxed into him and my heart ached at the familiarity.

"Scared of what? Commitment? Is that why we never got engaged?" I asked calmly.

"Yes, exactly. You know I thought I was going to be a rockstar, sign with a huge band. Instead I found you and our life was incredible, but I always wondered. I hated that I wondered, but I did." He let out a huge sigh.

"Why wait five years, Toby? Jesus, could have dragged it out any longer?" I felt hurt and exasperated.

"I wanted to be with you, even though the thoughts nagged me. I wanted to marry you, but I also still wanted my original dream. Not taking the next step kept me in that limbo land for years."

"You suck." I wanted to say a million other things but I felt exhausted and those two words was all I could manage.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Are you still with him?" I couldn't resist this topic any longer, even against my own better judgement.

"Oh, no! No, no, no." He exclaimed immediately. "No, Oliver, we weren't ever together, really."

"What do you mean?"

"After we, I mean after I....." He paused before trying again. "We went on several dates when we first separated. But I couldn't help but hate him. He took advantage of my insecurities and he manipulated me and he cost me everything." His voice cracked as he said it.

"What? How did he manipulate you?" I tried not to act as crazy as I felt. I said it as calmly as I could.

"He started at the studio several months before I left you. He was living the life I had always thought I wanted. He started telling me it wasn't too late. He pointed out that I was thirty and it was now or never." He explained.

"When that didn't get me to destroy my whole life, he started flirting with me. He started arranging the late night practices. When I refused him, he mocked me. He knew exactly how to push my buttons, like a real fucking con artist." He huffed out a ragged breath and shifted underneath me.

"I was going to meet with a jeweler to design a ring and he found out and doubled down on his tactics. He played on my fears of committing and walking away from the last chance at my old dream. He made me forget that you were my real dream."

"He sounds charming." I said it under my breath, but he heard.

"Yeah, no shit! He messed with me in ways I can't understand. I don't know how he made me believe him. I've actually seen a therapist about it recently. I'm seeing her next week for another session."

"That good." I mumbled.

"It took me a long time to stop blaming him and to figure out what's wrong with me instead. He definitely played me, but I have to take the blame. I let him play me. And I'm trying to fix myself. I'm so sorry for everything, Oliver. Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my entire life."

"You destroyed me. You destroyed us. Do you know how hard the last three years have been on me? I wanted to die, Toby." I sniffled.

"I know, baby. I've thought about it every second since that horrible day. Even as I was throwing our life away in that moment, I wanted to stop. I tried to kill myself several times in the following months."

My head shot up off his chest at that. I pushed myself up and looked at him laying back on the cushions. "You did what?"

"I overdosed twice. I tried to overdose four or five times, but I suck at doing drugs, as you know." He wouldn't meet my eyes.

I brought my flat hand down on his pec, hard. He jumped under the unexpected impact. "You fucking ass hole! Do you know what would have happened to me if I'd heard that you died? That you'd killed yourself! My god, you are so fucking selfish. Why are you such a fucking tool, Toby?" I screamed.

How dare he try to kill himself over his break up with me! I was furious. I tried to punch him, but he was faster and he caught my hand as he sat up.

"Whoa, Oliver, stop! You're right, okay, I'm a fucking fuck up! I know!" He yelled back at me as he grabbed and held both of my wrists in his strong hands.

I tried to push him back and away from me, but he gripped my wrists tighter. "Stop, baby, please!" He leaned closer to me as he restrained me.

"I hate you! You ruined everything! We spent the last three years apart and miserable because you fucking suck so bad!" I was crying again. "We could have been together. We were happy!" I sounded unhinged as I screamed the last sentence.

"I know!" He yelled as he pulled me into him. He released my hands and wrapped his long arms around my shoulders. He held me against him tightly. "I know." He said again, quietly, into my hair this time. "I'm so sorry."

I didn't have words. We had both been utterly alone and unhappy for years, for no good reason and I was in complete agony.

I vaguely remember him walking me to the bathroom. I vomited from crying so hard that I choked and gagged until everything came up. He held me while I cried on his bathroom floor.

Hours later I woke up on his bed. He lay next to me. He had been watching me sleep. He used to do that all the time. I always thought it was romantic back then.

"I never thought I'd get to watch you sleep again." He said after I'd woken up a little bit. "I missed it. I missed you."

"I missed you, too." I just stared at him. I was so numb and exhausted. It felt like the last three years had finally caught up with me. I couldn't move or fight with him, even if I wanted to.

I must have fallen asleep again because I woke when I heard him talking. I opened my eyes and he wasn't in the bed and it was dark in the room. I rolled off the bed and followed his voice to the living room. He was sitting on the couch, with his phone against his ear and his head hanging low.

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate your help. Yes, okay. Bye." His hand fell from his head and he dropped his phone onto the carpet by his feet.

"Who was that?" He jumped at my voice. He whipped his head around and looked at me with tears on his cheeks. I stepped closer to the couch.

"My dad died. That was the hospital." He looked ahead into space as he said it flatly.

I walked over and sat down next to him. My side pressed against his. I didn't say anything and I didn't reach out to hold him. I just sat right next to him in silence.

"We hadn't talked in a decade. Before we started dating." He said blankly.

We had started dating eight years ago. We'd met eleven years ago, before he became estranged from his father. I remember him mentioning it when we first started seeing each other officially. His father hadn't accepted him as a musician or as a gay man. We never really talked about it. He hadn't wanted to, so I never pursued it.

"Can I help with anything?" I offered generically.

"You don't need to do that, Oliver."

"I know. But I'm here. I have to go back east soon, but I'm here now if you need anything." I couldn't help but want to help him. He was my soulmate, even though we weren't together. My heart broke for him even though he'd already broken it into a million pieces.

He looked up at me. Was that awe in his eyes? He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time in three years. We'd been together for at least several hours, but it felt like I just walked in.

"I love you, Oliver. I've never stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you." He said it as he stared into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I wish I could take everything back. I love you so much."

"You're the only man I've ever loved, you know?" I said it as I looked away. I couldn't take his eyes on mine any longer. It hurt. "I still love you, even after everything." I admitted quietly.

He was still staring at me even though I'd looked away. "Would you stay for his burial? I'm not having a funeral. But I don't want to be alone when he gets interred." He inquired hopefully, but with caution.

"When will that be?" I asked while still not looking at him.

"I don't know. The hospital is calling the funeral home to pick him up. I have to call them in the morning. I should know once I talk to them. I'll have him buried as soon as possible."

"Okay, I'll wait until you know. I need to find a hotel for the night. My phone is dead." The three statements felt loosely related to each other. I wanted to stay with him, but it wasn't a good idea for a lot of reasons. I needed space to think if nothing else.

"Please stay here." He said it like he heard my thoughts. "Give me your phone, I'll charge it for you."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. He picked his phone up off of the floor and stood. He took both phones into the kitchen and then came back.

"Oliver, you need to eat. Please." He sounded so concerned as he sat back down. He was right. I couldn't remember when I'd last eaten. Hours ago I tried to eat that burger but I'd emptied my system of everything instead. It had been at least eighteen hours or probably longer. I was in New York when I last ate.

"Okay." It was all I could say. "What time is it?" I was so out of sorts, I had no idea what time it was or what day it was, for that matter.

"It's almost midnight. I can order pizza or tacos at this time of night, or I can cook some breakfast stuff, like eggs." He was trying so hard to help me. I knew it was a coping method to avoid falling apart about his dad.

"Tacos sound good." I missed California tacos more than I realized. He went into the kitchen and ordered on his phone app. He came back with a big glass of water for each of us.

"It should be here in twenty minutes."

"Are you okay? Want to talk about your dad?" I offered.

"I don't know how I am, honestly. This whole day has been so emotional and overwhelming. I can't even process it." He was upset, but he sounded more like himself right now then I'd heard since we'd found each other at the hospital.

"Tacos will help." I said it and he smiled to himself. We had always joked about the healing properties of tacos. Tacos always fixed everything back then.

"You're right, tacos will help." He smiled at me. He looked vulnerable but hopeful. As much as I hated to admit, even to myself, I wanted to kiss him so much.

We talked about his plan for tomorrow. We talked through what he was going to ask the funeral home. I knew talking about it and making a plan would help him more than anything. It distracted us until the doorbell rang.

The tacos tasted so good. Even drained, emotionally and physically, they made me feel at home next to Toby. The thought that this was supposed to be my life kept haunting me. I got quiet as I drifted into the past and the present as it should be. But this wasn't my real life. This was a strange detour that would be over soon.

He sensed my change in mood. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm the one that should be asking you if you're okay." I answered.

"I think it's fair if we ask each other, given the circumstances." He bit into his last taco.

"Yeah, I guess so. I hate this."

"I know what you mean." I knew he really did understand me. He always had. We both hated how weird it was to be here together. The whole situation, with the police calling me, my flying across the country and his dad passing, was all fucked up.

I took a shower and put on a pair of his sweats and one of his soft, old t-shirts. It all smelled like him, even clean, and I cried in the bathroom before I could get it together to leave the small private space.

Without words, we crawled under the covers and faced away from each other as he turned off the lamp. My brain raced for a short time, but my exhaustion overtook me quickly and I fell into the darkness.

When I woke up, it was morning and the bed was empty. He walked through the door at that exact moment. "Hey."

"Hey." I answered back. "Did you get any sleep?" I asked him.

"A few hours. I called the funeral home already. They contacted the cemetery for me. I am going to go out there to pay for the plot and the burial. They can be ready for him the day after tomorrow."

He left it there. I knew he wanted to ask if I would stay that long. That was three more days. Would I stay? Could I stay? I knew my boss would be fine with it. But was I fine with it? Three days in LA with Toby. At least three days, maybe more depending on flights. My mind started to race.

"Can I go with you to the cemetery?" I asked, much to my own surprise. It seemed safe enough I guess. I wanted to support him and delay answering. Plus, I wanted to get up and move. I might as well see my hometown while I'm here.

"I would love that. Yes, please. I was planning on leaving shortly. Is that okay?" He asked hopefully, but with reserve.

"Yeah, I showered last night, so I just need to get dressed. Can we get coffee?" It was a question I had asked on countless other occasions when we'd left the house together. It felt so familiar it actually stung a little.

"Of course." He smiled at me as he turned around. "Get dressed." He said as he left the bedroom. It was surreal. It felt like déjà vu. It was so bittersweet. Was I torturing myself with this whole thing? I feared it would set me back years once I got home.

I got up and got dressed anyway. I put on my rumpled clothes from yesterday. I hadn't packed a bag in my haste. I needed to get some clothes even if I left this afternoon. I felt gross. I'd puked in these clothes.

Before I could say anything as I entered the living room, he spoke and proved he still knew me so well. "Where do you want to stop for clothes? I know you are hating wearing that dirty stuff. I should have thought to wash it for you this morning. I'm sorry."

"It's dry clean only." I said it without thinking.

"Oh, of course it is." He smiled at me. He was such a typical musician. He wore jeans and t-shirts everyday. He always had. I was a fashion designer. I always wore fashionable, often ridiculous, clothing. We always admired our style differences. We looked oddly good together whenever we went out. I used to love that.

"I'm fine with ready to wear. Just take me to Macy's. I can get everything I need there. I'll be quick." I didn't want to delay his duties to his dad.

"You don't have to rush, babe. I'm in no hurry and I still don't know what ready to wear means. Aren't all clothes ready to wear?"

I laughed. It felt so good to laugh. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I laughed. My world was bleak and I didn't find anything funny. Toby always made me laugh. It felt natural and that scared the shit out of me.

"Let's go to Macy's and then get coffee. C'mon, let's go." It sounded like the past again as I said it.

He shook his keys and we walked out the door to the driveway. I realized I didn't know what neighborhood we were in. I hadn't paid attention last night. This house was so unlike him. No garage, no pool.

"What's with this house?" I asked. "Where are we?"

"We're about three blocks from the studio. I can walk there. This house was what was available in close proximity. That was my only "must have" when I rented it."

"Why? Are you broke?" The house he owned when we were together was probably worth three million or more, in this economy. And now he was renting a tiny house near downtown, to be near the music studio. It was odd. Then again, I lived in a tiny place for the exact same reason. It was close to work.

"No, it's all in the bank. Work is all I do, so I moved here. When I drove to the hospital yesterday, it was the first time I'd driven my car in like three weeks."

Holy shit. He really was living just like me. I worked and walked home. I got up the next day and walked to work and then I walked back home. We were living mirrored miserable lives three thousand miles apart. How fucking stupid is that shit?

All I wanted was him. All he wanted was me. Could we both get over the hurt to be together again? Would choosing my miserable, lonely existence just to be stubborn, really be my life forever?

He hadn't cheated. He'd left me first to avoid cheating. He left me because he was scared of commitment, not really for that guy. Was he still scared? Was I scared now, too? My mind raced and I failed to look at the city as we drove.

"Oliver, we're at Macy's." He startled me out of my reverie. I'd been imagining my life with him in it.

"Oh, thanks. Do you want to come in?" I always used to ask him that, too. He always said he wasn't going to go in with me before we went shopping. He always ended up changing his mind and coming in with me.

He never admitted it, but he loved watching me shop. I enjoyed it so much that he enjoyed watching me do it. Like how I loved to watch him write songs. He'd sit with his guitar and a notebook and his lucky pen. I could watch his process for hours.

"Yeah, I can come in." He said and it made me smile. I turned away as I got out so he wouldn't see how happy I was about it.

I bought a package of underwear and socks. I got a pair of jeans and a pair of nice pants I found on a clearance rack. Even after I'd started making a lot of money, clearance racks were still my weakness. I got three shirts and some nice toiletries in the men's department. We checked out and I changed into a new outfit in the restroom before we left the store.

"Damn, you look good in those jeans, Oliver. You almost never wore jeans back then."

"I still don't wear jeans. I got these because they're practical." I was beyond pleased that he thought I looked good, but I didn't show it.

He laughed loudly as we walked back to the car. "Babe, four hundred dollar jeans aren't practical." He mocked using air quotes when he said practical.

"Yes, they are. They're jeans." I joked back. It felt so easy, just like old times. I was happy and worried to death all at once.

He took us to my favorite coffee place and he ordered my usual iced coffee drink and my favorite breakfast burrito. Was he trying hard to do all this for me, specifically? Or had he fallen back into our routine without even realizing it? I couldn't tell.

The cemetery was peaceful and prettier than I expected. They gave us a map with the three single plots they had available marked on it. We drove around and checked out all three of them. One was tucked away near some old mature bushes, kind of in a corner. It was private feeling and peaceful.

He paid for the plot and the grave opening fee. He also purchased a very simple, flush to the ground, headstone. It would have his father's name and his birthday and the day he passed on it. It would be installed in three to four months they told him. We thanked them and left. The internment would be tomorrow at eleven in the morning.

We drove back to his house. This time I was able to look at the city as we drove by. It felt familiar, just like everything else did. He asked if I minded if he took a nap. I told him to sleep, I'd be fine. I checked my work emails and looked at flights back to New York. There was one tomorrow evening and several the day after that. I decided to wait to talk to Toby before booking any of them. It was an excuse to put off making a decision.

It was around one in the afternoon when Toby got up. He went into the kitchen and I could hear him rattling around in there, but I ignored my curiosity and stayed on the couch. I'd been watching old episodes of Project Runway to pass the time.

He came into the living room with two plates in his hands. "I hope you're hungry. I made us some lunch." He set the plates down and I saw an egg salad sandwich and a big dill pickle on my plate. I smiled and thanked him.