He tilts his head to the side, still looking at me intently, taking his time to fully study the different me

in a way that makes me fidget in my seat. There’s an almost thoughtful smile on his lips when he

speaks. “You overdosed. I found you.” There’s no reproach in the words, nothing patronizing, just

stating a fact. Like this should be answer enough.

It’s not enough though. The information shocks me, even though somewhere in my mind, I had to

know that someone found me. I guess I just didn’t expect it to have been Rizzo. And it creates more

questions than answers, especially with the way he’d been ignoring me at the time.

I can’t even manage to hold eye contact as I try to come up with something else to say, running a

hand awkwardly back through my hair, and wincing as I realize that probably only draws attention to

how different I look now. I manage to get my voice under enough control that it doesn’t falter when I

finally think of something to say.

“Well. Sorry about that then, I guess. Huge downer on a booty call, right?” I force a laugh and shrug

a little.

He grins, and it’s confident, but it’s not the go-screw-yourself grin I’m used to. “I hope you can

handle the shock, Keller”, he replies with a smile, “but it wasn’t one.”

Everything about this conversation so far is confusing, Rizzo’s attitude, what he’s saying, the fact

that he’s even here in the first place. It makes me even more nervous, and the way I’m fidgeting

probably looks a lot like it used to when I’d start craving something. I try to cover it up by laughing

again, but I can hear how flat it sounds.

“You don’t exactly seem the type to stop by to borrow a cup of sugar or something. And I’m not

really the type to have a cup of sugar to lend, so…” I don’t know why else Rizzo would’ve been coming

by. The only thing that comes to mind is something regarding the play, but that doesn’t make sense

either.

I can feel my fidgeting getting worse, twisting my fingers together to try to still them, and I actually

force myself to start one of those breathing exercises Jeff was always teaching us to control our nerves

onstage. I send up a quick prayer that Rizzo doesn’t notice how hard it is for me to keep playing my

usual part in all this.

He leans forward slowly, glancing at my hands before looking back up at my face. “For god’s sake,

Nick, relax”, he says softly. “It’s okay. Okay?”

Okay. I feel like laughing at that, actual real laughter, because things are so far from okay right now.

I manage to untwist my fingers and reach up to rub at my eye, a nervous gesture I thought I’d trained

myself out of when I started wearing eyeliner every day.

“What’s the definition of ‘okay’ in your world, Rizzo? Because this?” I gesture around at the lounge.

“This doesn’t really qualify as ‘okay’ to me.”

He arches an eyebrow, and something dark flickers in his eyes briefly, but it doesn’t show in his

voice. “I don’t know, Nick. Given the fact that you almost died on me that night, I’d say this is pretty

‘okay’.”

I don’t even know what the look in his eyes means, and I can’t help shaking my head. “No. It’s not.

I’m trapped here, and I’m not even me anymore. Not that it was that great being me before, but it’s even

worse now because I have to think about it. And about how much of a screw-up I am.”

I finally look right at him again, trying to find some answers there, but he’s not Woodhaven’s best

actor for nothing. I try to match his don’t-care attitude, but I know that I’m not anywhere near as good

of an actor as he is. “And on top of everything else, now you’re here. And I have no idea why you’d

even want to come around. Because honestly, other than my family, you’re probably the last person I

expected to show up.”

He thinks about this for a second, and seems to come to a decision. Then he leans forward in his

chair and looks me straight in the eye, suddenly focused and serious. Suddenly real. Like a completely

different person. It reminds me of the time I woke up in his bed before he did, of the way he looked

then. It’s unsettling to see, when I’m so used to the other Rizzo.

“I really didn’t want to come”, he admits with a nonchalant shrug. It’s followed by a smile, though, a

genuine one. “But I wanted to know how you were doing, and those assholes wouldn’t say over the

phone.”

It’s enough to startle me into staring at him for a bit. It looks like Rizzo, and it sounds like him. But

the things he’s saying… “You called?” I can feel the confused frown on my face. “Why would you call?

Why would you want to know?” Why would he care? None of this makes sense. “You… know that

being screwed up isn’t contagious, right?”

He looks at me in a way that seems to say, ‘god, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?’, but there’s

warmth in his eyes. “Yeah, and I sure hope that being stupid isn’t either. I didn’t know I wasn’t

supposed to care whether you live or die.”

“Do you?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I wince at how pathetic they sound. One

of the things I’ve been trying to tell myself since I got here is if they ever let me out, I have to stop

caring so much about what Rizzo thinks. But it’s hard to remember that when he’s sitting in front of me

with that smile that, for once, doesn’t seem to be mocking me. I try to get at least a little of my self

respect back, but it’s long gone, and everything comes out wrong. “Or is it just that you thought twice

about losing an easy lay?”

I shake my head and wave off the question before he can even respond, looking down again so that I

don’t have to see whatever his reaction might be. “Damnit. That… It’s not what I meant. Ignore that…”

There’s a smile in his voice, just barely audible. “It’s kinda hard to ignore that you seem to think I’m

the world’s biggest asshole.” There’s a pause before he adds: “Guess I deserve it.”

I barely even want to look up at him, because this has quickly turned into the world’s worst

conversation, but I glance up anyway, shaking my head. “No. I’m just saying shit without thinking, as

usual. Just ignore me, seriously.” I try to push away the thought that it’s what he’s used to, clenching my

teeth to keep from actually saying it.

“I don’t think so. You’ve got something to say - just say it.” The warmth seems to go out of Rizzo’s

voice a little, but it’s more familiar now, more like what I’m used to.

“What, you really want me to talk about my feelings now, Rizzo? You never wanted to hear it

before.” I pause, wondering if I should continue, and the words slip out, quiet but sincere. “That wasn’t

ever the way we worked.”

“Yeah. And you knew what you were getting into with me.” He looks like there’s more he wants to

say on the matter, lots more, but he pauses to think about it for a moment. Then he leans back in his

chair, giving me some space.

“Look, Keller. Whatever you wanted to see in me, I was exactly that, apparently. That’s why you

kept coming back for more. And now you’re sitting here, telling me that I treated you wrong, when

you’ve been treating yourself like shit all this time.” He looks into my eyes. “What do you expect me to

say to that?”

I shake my head a bit and a sigh escapes. Why does he always have to be so frustrating? “I don’t

know what I expect you to say. If anything.” My fingers twitch with want of a cigarette, but we’re not

allowed to smoke inside, even if I had any. “And I know that I was messed up. I still am, if you haven’t

noticed.” I gesture again at our surroundings as I keep talking. “But you haven’t exactly made it easy,