U still in town or r u back in LA?
My gut feeling is to ignore the text from Torin that my car's voice assistant reads to me as I steer onto Hollywood Way, leaving the Burbank airport in the distance. Monday morning has been challenging enough after leaving my weekend in Vegas, getting on a plane, and landing back in my LA reality, and it isn't because of the geographic distance that's once more between Phoenix and me.
He requested a do-over when we drove to Willow Beach on Saturday. The evening turned out to be a peaceful escape from how our weekend began, and it erased my thoughts of Len and my concerns about how Phoenix was handling the news from the moment we pushed away from the shore in our kayak. Nothing could have been more romantic than paddling together as we watched the sunset, or sitting hand-in-hand by a crackling bonfire, or kayaking back under the moonlight and stars. Then there was the sweet simplicity of yesterday, waking up to rumbling thunder while sheets of rain fell from the sky. We stayed curled up under a blanket indoors, watching movies and eating takeout and simply existing. I should be, as Ava once observed, "all glowy and shit" today, and still the rose-tinged hue of the weekend has already faded to a bittersweet tarnish I've yet to let myself analyze.
It could be the text message from my mom that popped up on my phone the moment I turned airplane mode off after landing. It was a link to a short video of Phoenix and me at The Auriga on Friday night that someone posted on social media and that somehow made it onto my mom's radar. The video link was followed by two sentences: You're back in touch with Phoenix? Call me later. Except calling her is the last thing I want to do, since I haven't figured out how to explain the last three weeks to my family, or how to convince them to trust the decision I've made about letting Phoenix back into my life. They're likely to be every bit as concerned and protective as Torin is.
It could also be fatigue. I told myself I was just tired while I sat in the window seat on the plane, staring out at the landscape below during the quick flight home. Lord knows sleep isn't something I had in abundance this weekend, which is a valid reason for why I should also put off answering Torin. I'm not sure I'm physically or emotionally equipped to rehash Friday night or to get into another disagreement about Phoenix and his presence in my life while I'm running on fumes.
But Torin has been my friend and protector since well before I knew Phoenix. He has always had my back, and he and Ava took care of me when I was at my lowest point. The thought of leaving things with tension between us winds my insides into more knots than the news about Len did on Saturday. For this reason, and this reason alone, I dictate a voice reply to his message.
Driving home from the airport. It was good to see you this weekend.
I send the message, and my phone immediately rings. Of course it does. I just told Torin I'm driving, so he knows I'm in my car and not somewhere I can't talk to him. There's no reason for me to ignore his call.
"Hey."
"Hi. Happy you're home safe."
There are a couple of ways I could take that, whether it's that my flight landed safely, or the perspective I assume he has that I'm back in LA and not with Phoenix. I opt for the former and don't question it, mostly because I'd like to restore the peace between us.
"It was a little windy leaving Vegas, but when isn't it? I hope Ava's flight is smoother."
I actually don't know if Ava flew to Vegas or drove, or when she's coming home, but it gives me something to say that seems relatively safe. A part of me hopes that keeping this a surface-level conversation and not diving into our conflicting points of view about my love life will smooth things over. We can both move on and avoid talking about Phoenix and me. It's probably for the best if Torin chooses to ignore our relationship for now, and if I ignore his anger about it, and we land on an unspoken truce.
"Sorry to hear about the flight, but I'm relieved you're home and far away from whatever mind manipulation Phoenix has done on you."
So much for the imagined and hoped-for truce. Torin must not feel the same way I do about tiptoeing around the topic or playing nice.
"Excuse me?"
"We should talk, Del. Like, really talk."
"It sounds like some talking already happened. Did you really say you'd take out Phoenix's kneecaps with your drum sticks?"
I expect some sort of protest, or an explanation about how the account of what he said was overembellished or a joke, but Torin chuckles, almost as if he's proud of saying this and that I know about it.
"One wrong move, and he'll be a lucky man if I stop there. He should already consider himself blessed since I haven't shown up at his door today to have a word."
"You will not do that." I use my most firm, mess-around-and-find-out tone, but it's met with another faint chuckle.
"We'll see."
Deep breaths. Stay patient.
"I know you can't stand him, and that's fair. But I do need you to trust me and my choices, and to respect that I'm capable of making decisions for myself."
"My trust in you isn't the issue."
"Other than things from the fairly distant past, has Phoenix given you any reason not to trust him recently?"
"I could start with what he's doing in Vegas. Has he told you how long he's allegedly been working here for?"
I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road, rather than give in to the urge to roll them at Torin's use of the word "allegedly."
"I haven't asked him," I say.
"Maybe you should."
"Or you could tell me, since it sounds like you know."
"He's been here for the last six months. Doesn't that seem like a long time to be filming something on location?"
My only points of reference are the films Phoenix worked on the last time we dated, but even I know every production has its own schedule and set of circumstances. I don't know if what he's working on in Vegas is a film, because I haven't asked about it and he hasn't said much. It could be a multi-episode series for a cable network or streaming service that would take longer to wrap. Without the facts or context from Phoenix, I'm not ready to jump to conclusions or to feed into whatever Torin is accusing him of.
"Have you asked him about it?" I counter.
"Once. He said something vague about starts and stops and production delays."
"And?"
There's a pause, then a louder than necessary exhale. "Just hear me out. For someone who claims he's here to work, his schedule is open enough that he's always somewhere with Nash on weekday mornings and afternoons. You don't think that's suspicious?"
I don't, really. Phoenix had some odd late-night hours on other productions, especially when scenes called for filming outdoors at night, but pointing this out won't do much when Torin is determined to see anything he does as shady.
"What is it you suspect?" I ask instead.
"I don't know," he admits. "I haven't put my finger on it, but something doesn't add up. Even Nash has commented that his job seems to barely require him to be on set. I want you to be careful."
"I always am." The cheer in my voice is forced, and I'm sure he hears it. "I'll even ask him about it if having an answer will help you sleep at night."
"I'd sleep better if you cut him off and never gave him the power to hurt you again."
"You've made that clear. Can we move on to something else?"
Torin is silent. I maintain the silence while I slow my car to a stop at a red light, and then wait until I run out of willpower and speak again.
"Your heart is in the right place, and I love you for it. I promise I'm not in this with blinders on, because I also don't ever want to feel the way I did six years ago."
"You know I'll be here for you if something happens and you do."
"I think we can agree that we both hope it won't. Now, can we talk about what went down between Ava and Nash instead? She still hasn't told me everything leading up to it, but two weeks ago she was adamant that her being anything more than Nash's friend would never happen."
"He hasn't told me, either. I was as surprised as you are."
"You aren't concerned?" I ask, thinking of Phoenix's reservations about Nash.
"Nah. Ava can outplay a player any day of the week. I'd be more worried about what she'll plot to destroy Nash's ego if he does something she doesn't like."
It's my turn to laugh. "Valid. I hope he knows what he's getting into."
Our conversation gets lighter after that, which does a lot to lift my mood and keeps me distracted from my exhaustion. Torin mentions an upcoming show his band has in Huntington Beach that they just booked, and I promise to make it out with Ava in tow. Neither of us brings up Phoenix again, but my thoughts still return to him and our weekend once I'm home and my call with Torin ends.
What is it still nagging at the edges of my mind, and why? I search my brain, but only the most benign things come to the surface. I sift through them anyway. Is it because Phoenix completely ignored what sounded like a slew of text messages this morning while he drove me to the airport? His phone chimed a bunch of times, but he must have turned message announcements off because no notifications came up on the console of his SUV. In fact, the last time I saw any phone notification light up the console screen was Friday night, even though his phone was connected to play music after that.
I give my head a shake, but the physical action fails to also shake off the strange energy I'm consumed by. I need to be rational about this.
He was giving me his full attention. I was a few minutes away from leaving, so why would he spend that time checking messages?
It doesn't explain why nothing came up on the console, but who knows? Maybe a setting changed, or he didn't want the interruption while we were together. I squeeze my eyes shut and think again.
Is it because we left things open-ended about our next visit before he hugged me and kissed me goodbye? This on its own shouldn't cause me to feel how I do. Expecting him to be off every weekend and to see him each time is probably too much, especially at this early stage, and besides, I have a full life outside of him and have for years. There are countless things I need to get done and friends I want to spend time with here at home. A weekend or two apart shouldn't bother me, and I need to check myself fast if it does.
I continue reviewing the events of the last several days for a few more minutes. Nothing else flags, but that still doesn't put me at ease.