Different and the Same

Jess woke up feeling like an asshole. Her pajama pants were pulled up under the skirt that she’d forgotten to take off in her drunken stupor. 

The drive home felt like a distant memory. She remembered it in bits and pieces. His hand on the steering wheel. The fuzzy dice dangling from the mirror. He still had the same taste in music, and when “Can’t Fight This Feeling” came on they both sat in silence until the chorus and then they were twin volcanoes, erupting into song side by side, just like old times. He still hadn’t learned the words but he sang with the same reckless abandon that she’d fallen so hard for.

The car must have stopped on her street because next thing she’d stumbled on the curb. She picked herself back up and brushed the dirt off her knees and Ezra’s laugh was contagious so she joined in. She was surprised to find that she felt bashful around him, and a loaded silence settled between them in those moments. She shivered lightly against the cold and realized that her jacket was long gone, but she couldn’t remember taking it off.

“Shit,” she said, “I don’t have my key.” Without a word, Ezra leaned toward the glovebox and handed her a small key ring. His old house key, one for the mailbox, and a small round keychain that said, “Life is always better in Gatlinburg”. Browsing gift shops full of tacky keepsakes, they’d found it funny at the time. Suddenly forgetting about the locked door behind her, Jess snatched the trinket out of his hand as if it was a precious stone instead of an overpriced hunk of stainless steel.

“My hero,” she said playfully.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Wanna come in?” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said “I have a queen.”

“You go on without me.” 

"Such a gentleman!" It was a good thing he didn't follow her in because she threw up on the kitchen floor about thirty seconds after locking the door behind her.

She drank the stale glass of water on the bedside table and tried not to think of all the wrong things she said last night. She was going to reach out eventually. She had all the right things rehearsed in her head but that chance was ruined and the conversation was so easy. She didn't expect it to be so easy.

Her stomach was a snake in the middle of the trail, coiled up tight and unpredictable. Hunched over the toilet, she thought about those weekend trips they used to take. 

I have a queen, what a douchebag. The guilt was electric and the memory brought another wave of nausea. They’d dated for three years and Jess thought Ezra had already seen the worst of her, but that night felt like a new low. At midnight she'd transformed into a beast, unrecognizable. A hideous flirt with unearned confidence and lipstick on her teeth. And obnoxious as she was, he still drove her home. She thought that she loved him unconditionally. She’d helped him buzz his hair and find cute clothes from the boy’s section. Whatever makes you feel good. And she meant it. But when he started talking about hormones and pronouns and changing his name, she pulled away. 

“I’m gay.” Once she’d let it bottle up for too long, she told him, “I don’t want a boyfriend. I’ve never wanted a boyfriend.”

She was already tipsy when she drifted into the only gay bar in town. Finally, she felt like she was ready to move on. Ready to let go of some of the guilt she felt for abandoning Ezra while he was vulnerable. Slim, handsome, he wore an oversized jean jacket with rolled-up sleeves. He leaned over the pool table and she suddenly lost the desire to talk to the brown-eyed girl at the bar. She almost left but she ordered a drink instead and watched him play. The way he moved, the way his shoulders bounced when he laughed. All of it was different, but it was surprisingly the same. She emptied the glass in a few big gulps and walked up to him.

“Hey stranger.”

“Jess. Hey.” A shock ran through her when she heard his voice. She was expecting something horrible like tires scraping gravel but it was low and even.

“Buy me a drink?”

He didn’t, but he passed off his pool stick to a friend and told them to finish the game without him. They sat at the bar and it felt like no time had passed. He'd gotten a new job at the fire station downtown. It paid a little more than his last, although he had to work odd hours. He’d come to the bar most nights after a shift to play some pool. Jess nodded along and took another sip from her glass. She tried to remember why she’d broken up with him in the first place. She was afraid. Afraid of what he’d turn into. Afraid that he'd slowly become someone that she didn’t recognize and couldn’t love. But sitting next to Ezra again, he seemed more like himself than ever. She tried to kiss him more than once that night. The memory was foggy, but glaringly obvious and the desperation was almost as thick as the bartender's accent when he announced the last call.

She drove back to the same bar that night, even though the motion from the car threatened to make her sick again. She remembered those nights he'd lay awake until he was sure that she'd fallen asleep. He'd pull away from her and stand in the bathroom and splash water on his face. He'd get stuck in front of that mirror, just staring at his reflection. Once, she followed him in after several minutes and wrapped her arms around his waist. He gripped the countertop tightly, water streaming down his face. Standing on her tiptoes just a little, she rested her chin on his shoulder. They looked at themselves and looked and looked. She'd said, "I love you the way you are. Why can't you?" He said nothing, just pulled out of her embrace and went downstairs. She thought that she loved him unconditionally, but she stunting him. She waited on the edge of their queen sized mattress, but she heard the front door open and shut. Looking back, it was the beginning of the end.

She paced in front of the door of the bar, unable to work up the nerve to go inside. She could see him through the window as he leaned over the pool table. Eventually, he happened to look in her direction. She waved awkwardly. He held up a finger to his friends and met her outside with bizarre confidence. They leaned against the brick, their shoulders almost touching. Ezra took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Jess but she waved it away.

“I’ll puke.” His laugh was exactly what she’d expected, and that comforted her. It was suddenly clear to her that she wasn’t talking to a stranger. That the man next to her knew her better than anyone.

“I’m really sorry for what I said the other night.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He put the cigarettes back in his jacket pocket. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“What if,” Jess stared at the parked cars to avoid his gaze. “What if I did mean it. Like, okay, I was drunk for sure, I never should have said those things I said, and I’m so embarrassed but,”

She almost lost her nerve, but she remembered who she was talking to and met his familiar eyes. “I think I made a mistake letting you go. I miss you.” He reached for her hand and she squeezed it tight, as if afraid that he’d slip away again. When they kissed everything felt different, but everything was the same.