The Year of the Crocodile by Courtney Milan

The Year of the Crocodile by Courtney Milan

Author:Courtney Milan [Milan, Courtney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NLA Digital LLC


3

ADAM

The apartment is dark. The couch is surprisingly comfortable. It’s the fucking alcohol that won’t let me sleep. That, and Tina’s question.

What do I want?

A million things I’m never going to have. But this one? The one I asked for?

That, I can imagine. I can make a case for one more email. I can imagine that one exists, stuck in the Cyclone mail servers. Maybe he left one last message hedged by a delivery date. Maybe it’s still coming.

I want to believe it could exist. I want to think that it’s not completely, utterly, finally over.

It’s over. It’s so fucking over that I watched it turn to fucking ash.

My stupid wish is just the alcohol fucking with my mind. Maybe. Maybe there’s more.

I pull my phone off the floor where it’s charging and open my mail.

I’m trying not to imagine the way he would have laughed at me throughout the evening. He’d have handled this entire situation with nuance and grace. My dispute resolution tactic has always been to barge in, guns blazing, f-bombs away. I wish he were here, but I’m not him. I can’t ever be him.

I miss his fucking nuance.

I don’t look for a response to my last message. I’m fucked enough to send messages to his abandoned email box. I’m not so fucked that I believe he’ll actually respond.

Once, I told someone that the five stages of grief were inefficient—that anyone with a fucking clue could navigate the waters of bullshit with just two. Turns out denial is not as unfamiliar to me as I had claimed.

My typical denial usually runs to extraneous bullshit posturing, but I’m drunk and stripped of my defenses. Tonight, I can’t manage the crap.

I stare at the empty message field for a minute before typing.

Hey, gorgeous.

I’m finally beginning to understand what you told me. I thought that without you to soften me up, I’d eventually ossify and break into fucking pieces. Turns out I’m not that fucked. As much as it pains me to admit it, you were fucking right about one thing. I’m going to be okay.

Don’t fucking think it changes anything else. You were still wrong. I love you. I will always love you.



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