Free Never Been Loved by C.M. Kars

years. Reminding me that this is what I am, this is what I deserve. What I’m going to get in my life. I want. Fucking. More.
    A sick fuck like me only deserves the scum at the bottom of the barrel, not the bright beauty that barely penetrates my darkness. Christ, I need to stop thinking.
    “Are we done here?” Her arm tightens up again, and she’s starting to swing the door forward. I checked out with my pity-party and wasn’t paying attention. Sera thinks I’m bluffing. “Definitely done.”
    The door closes in my face, throwing the numbers 610 at me. I’ve been dismissed, but I’m used to that. I’ve been trained by the very best.
    I stalk over to my apartment, open the door, and motion for Matty to come with me. The little guy gets up from the couch, skipping towards me and my heart does this weird flutter thing in my chest that I think can only be love.
    I close the door behind us, and pound my fist against her door for the second time tonight. I wait as Matty arranges himself in front of me, practically leaning back on my legs. It’s something Jules would have done.
    The door swings open and it’s not Sera. Instead, there’s a chick with one of those tight skirts and blouses on, stockings and all. She looks like she just came from work, she looks like she wants everyone to believe that she’s better than them. Her hair isn’t as light a brown as Sera’s is, and her eyes are dark, not hazel. She’s not wearing any glasses.
    I’ve decided I really like shirts that say stuff on them that I don’t understand. I could get the girl in them to explain them to me in all sorts of interesting ways.
    “Where’s Sera?” I ask, ignoring the way her friend just continues to gape at me. It’s the way Aly looks at me, and I want to growl at her to look away. I look past her to the rest of Sera’s apartment, getting a glimpse of a glass table set to the far right, and a clear view straight ahead to the living room. A zebra carpet. Looks like Sera can be full of surprises.
    Then I realize she wasn’t with a man. And damn if I don’t want to beat my chest, and roar.
    “What now?”
    I watch Sera come closer to her friend—God, please let it be her friend—and stare at me, then to the kid at my feet. I look down, too, and watch as Matty gets his whole body behind a wave hello. I look up in time to see Sera, with her mouth open in that waiting-for-a-kiss look, wave right back at him.
    “ You want Peter Pan?” she asks.
    Matty nods, and Sera looks up at me one more time, then back down. I told her the truth. No matter what happens next, or a month from now, or weeks, or years – I told her the truth.
    She turns away from me, and I’m stuck staring at her friend, who gives me the once-over two more times. Doesn’t seem like my dick is into the whole look-over, either. A new one for me.
    As Sera comes closer to the doorway, and hands Matty that DVD, I can’t remember how many times Matty has been given something, like a gift. I watch him cradle the thing to his chest, and probably toss up a signature MacLaine smile.
    I get pole-axed with Sera’s smile as she gives it right back to the little guy.
    “Thanks. He’ll have it back tomorrow, swear,” I say, and I sound tired, even to my own ears. It’s been a long three years, and I’m tired of fighting. I nod, because I can’t talk anymore. The headache’s pushed its way front and center into my attention span, and the kid’s already walking down the hall to our place when I turn away from her.
    There are just too many game-changers. I’m not healthy, I’m not successful, or anything like that. If I was that cocky piece-of-shit eighteen-year-old kid again—before the diagnosis, before the insulin injections, before the checking of my sugar six or seven times a day; before I had to pay attention to my body, and listen, and think of how I feel in every moment so I could be around to take care of Matty—I would have gone after her. I would have gone