The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

It's been a long day, and now that it's almost over I've lost all the steam that had carried me through and I'm right back to being stuck in this half-life. Lilah had been incredible in setting up the test and going with me—and she was even more so after it was finished—but I can't stand to be around her right now. She'll only try to make everything better and I don't think I could handle it, not when it would feel too much like pity. I'm not exactly sad about it, mostly I think I just feel tired. It's rough having to come back to this after things were going so much better, which is probably why I reached out to the one person I thought might be able to cheer me up against my better judgment.
"That guy's looking at me weird, I think he thinks I'm your boyfriend." Devin shoots a not-so subtle look over his shoulder as he slides onto the stool beside mine. Lilah hadn't been too thrilled to leave me in what she undoubtedly considered a vulnerable state, but she respected my space. That, and she and Jason had dinner plans or something. Regardless, she couldn't have guessed I'd make the terrible decision to call my dimwitted and somewhat oblivious best friend, otherwise she surely would've saved me from myself. And him. "What's up? Are you day drinking? Bro."
"What's that stupid thing people always say? It's five o'clock somewhere?" I wave over the bartender. Another thing Lilah wouldn't have guessed was my intention to gun it straight for the bar when she dropped me off. Where else was I going to go, though? I can't go home, not yet, I can't bear the thought of facing Jonah. This seems to be the lesser of the evils. "Tell me what you want, Dev, I'm buying."
"That's it? That's all I get? Dude, I practically had to wrestle my mom to get out of the house. The break's been hell, by the way, thanks for asking, asshole." He says, refusing to join me for a drink. Instead he scrutinizes me relentlessly. "You were pretty vague on the phone, but still I hopped in the car and came right over, the least you can do is tell me what I'm doing here. You had that test today, right?"
"Can we please talk about anything else?" I don't blame him for being curious, but I could've called Maddy if all I needed was a shoulder to cry on. The beer pong king of Theta is the last guy I thought would make a big deal out of it, but when I turn to look at him finally I can tell he doesn't want to let it go.
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was another pity party. Warn me next time so I can screen your calls."
"I thought we could hang out, but you can leave if you're just going to be a dick."
"Hang out? Here? I don't think so, let's go." Devin jumps up and tosses a crumpled bill onto the counter. When I fail to immediately respond he practically drags me from the stool and stuffs me into his car. Any objections I make are cut short, and he refuses to even answer my questions as he drives us back to the frat house—now all but abandoned. It isn't until we're standing in the backyard, eerily quiet while he holds a football in his hand, that I'm allowed to speak.
"Tell me again why we're doing this?" It's a trivial notion, like we're kids again, like there aren't a million other more important things to do.
"You want to hang? Let's hang, but I'm done listening to you piss and moan—the Brent I knew was a goddamn animal, show me that guy."
"Devin, you know I can't play. My knee," the hideous brace feels more restrictive than ever. What I wouldn't give to feel that leather in my hands again, but my injury, today of all days, remains a reminder of all the ways I'm lesser than now.
"It's been months, you've been walking and getting around just fine. Come on, I'll even take it easy on you." He doesn't bother waiting for a response before he grins stupidly and lobs the ball my way. With reflexes I had thought dulled, I reach out to catch it firmly. My fingers spread across the football, tracing the laces and the thousand lines that travel across its skin. The air is cool, the sun is just starting to set, and once again I'm back on the field. I see the play, I know just what to do, and without realizing it my feet begin to move instinctively.
Maybe there are a million more important things to do, but I forgot how fun it can be to slow down and just fuck off every once in a while. Devin and I throw the football around and have our own game here in the backyard, and for that little bit I feel like my old self again as I duck around him to score point after point. We play until my face hurts from smiling, and when I've beaten him so bad that he has no hope of recovering we collapse to the ground in a laughing, breathless heap.
"Good game," I say, panting.
"Not bad for how out of shape you've gotten." Devin comments as he pats my stomach pointedly. I almost shove him over before we both succumb to more laughter, still just as out of breath, and then we go perfectly quiet while we sit there on the lawn, shoulder to shoulder. Another minute passes, and he scoffs, "you're so much more fun to play with than my brothers, god I hate being back home. I was psyched you called."
"I'm glad I did too." A game of football isn't enough, no matter how much I needed it. The moment I stop moving is the moment it all catches up with me, but at least I don't feel so tired. I owe him for that. "I appreciate you coming, I know it was out of the blue, but, I didn't want to go home yet."
"Why?" He tries for the truth again, hoping our time together has loosened my guard. In a way it has, kind of, if only because I remember now that he has my back—always. Especially since we're a lot alike too; he may be a blundering oaf with little guile, but he sees more than most people think. He demonstrates that perception, "are you worried about Jonah?"
"Are you going to give me shit if I say yeah? It's dumb, I know, but how am I supposed to tell him that I'm," the thought stops and my tongue freezes, both working in tandem to prevent the word from worming it's way passed my lips. I can hear it in my head, from when Lilah tried to talk to me about it, and when her friend first spoke it into existence. I know it's not going anywhere but to say it aloud here, to give it form and to bring it into the world for real—dense and unforgiving—it's too much. Instead I shrug, "you know."
"That you're what?" Devin interjects, an educated guess. "Dyslexic?"
"Wow, way to just fucking put it out there like that." It doesn't matter that I don't want to say it, because Devin does it for me. It's such an ugly word, with an even uglier meaning, and I feel more embarrassed than I should when he throws it out like it means nothing.
"It's not like it's a big deal, that's how some people are. Like how I'm left-handed, or how you're a Gemini. And gay. And dyslexic, apparently. And you know what else? You're still a goddamn animal, Brent."
"Well what if he doesn't see it that way?" How easy it would be if we could all accept our differences or our faults, but life is nothing like that. Life is a vicious bitch, and while Devin is doing his damnedest with the pep talk, I still hear my dad's voice. Neither of them are important right now though, there's only one person I care about in all of this, and after Devin pieces that together for himself I finally utter my last confession. "The timing couldn't be worse, I've been thinking about asking Jonah to marry me."
"Okay." My best friend processes the news slowly. "There's a tiny part of me having a stroke because you're both way too young to be getting married, but looking passed that, do you actually think he won't want to be with you now?"
"Look at him, man. Look at everything he's doing. What am I supposed to offer him? It was bad enough before, but now—"
"He loves you, stupid!" Devin refuses to listen to any more. "You've got issues, believe me, but you're one hell of a guy. I would date you myself if you had a vagina."
"That's gross."
"That's life. Jonah's crazy about you, I've seen it, it's actually kind of disgusting to watch you two around each other, you're like a couple of horny teenagers. Do me a favor? Just be honest with him." This mushy conversation is evidently too much for Devin, because he finally stands and brushes himself off before extending a hand. "I'll give you a ride home, you'll feel better after you rip the band-aid off."
My hand takes his reluctantly, and I use all his faith to propel me onward since I have very little of my own. On the drive back to Jonah's parent's house things go back to normal for Devin and I, and I give in to his fraternal teasing because it feels easier than anything else. He's the first to remark on the empty driveway when we arrive, so I know Jason and Lilah must still be out, and I thank my best friend again before bidding him a good night. It's not until I hear the ridiculously loud exhaust on his car fade into the distance that I go in and trudge up the stairs, calling for Jonah.
He still hasn't answered by the time I'm in the hall, and the door to his room—our room—is in my sights. We made a lot of memories here, and returning to this place is usually such an immeasurable joy for me. Not today though. Today my heart feels heavy as I reach the room and put a hand on the door, still so unsure of what I'll say to him. Then I hear the faintest music coming from the other side, soft and slow, and curiosity takes hold as I push it open gently.
"I've been waiting for you." Jonah says, with an inflection that implies the smile he's wearing even before I see him. He lays almost naked on the bed, covered barely by the thinnest sheet while he bathes in the dim, warm glow of the dozen candles scattered around the room. He sits up and pats the spot beside him, knowing that I'll be compelled to go to him even before I do. Once I sit he runs one hand up my back, and the other along my thigh as he starts to kiss on my neck.
"Not that I don't like where this is going, but before we get to all that there's something we have to talk about." I manage dumbly, trying to get it all out before I lose the nerve. I've barely spoken when he shushes me and brings his lips to mine. It's such a soft kiss, but one that carries a reverential weight with it.
"It doesn't matter." His thumb holds his place as it rests at the corner of my mouth, allowing him an opportunity to speak. "I love you."
"I think it does, Jonah, I need to tell you about today, about the test." This is not what I want to be thinking about right now, not being here with him, like this, seeing the delicate shadows dancing across his delicate frame. But if I don't get it out right here I don't think I'll ever be able to. "I found out I'm...dyslexic."
"And?" He continues to look at me with the same intensity. "I told you it doesn't matter, none of it does, I don't need some test to tell me you're exactly the same guy I fell in love with. Don't you get that? There's nothing that'll ever change the way I feel about you—I love you."
"I love you too," I whisper, pretending for the second time today that I'm brave even though my hand won't quit shaking. It only makes me feel more exposed when Jonah puts his over it, so I clear my throat, "you didn't have to do all this just to prove it though."
"This? I did this because you've been going through a lot these past few months and I thought you deserved something special." Jonah leans in sensually, kissing the soft spot just beneath my ear. He recalls the last argument we had, "and because I wanted you to know I heard everything you said before. I know things have been kind of weird between us lately, and I'm sorry, I never want you to feel like you're not important."
"You didn't really take any of that to heart, did you? I was drunk." We've been here a thousand times, I still don't get why this all feels so new. Tonight he's somehow making me just as nervous as I was almost five years ago, that first day we ever made love. Jonah chuckles lightly at my attempt to play it off as he stands up, revealing that he hasn't been wearing anything at all under the sheet. Then he takes his rightful place right on top of me, in my lap, while he starts to unfasten the buttons on my shirt.
"It's okay, I'm glad we were able to get everything out in the open. Just, maybe next time we can talk about it before it gets that far? Especially since I have the feeling we're not out of the woods yet. Whatever happens next I want to be there for you, because you are important, Brent. You're the most important thing in the whole world to me." He grows impatient from too much talking, and as soon as he's able to tear my shirt off he shoves me down forcefully on the bed. He hovers overhead, his face dark in the lowlighting so that I can't see what he's thinking while his hands tangle themselves in my hair.
"What if your dad comes home?" I murmur, still knowing that we've been here before. Jonah smirks, reminding me that we owe them a show as he leans in further to run his tongue down my chest. Then he tugs on my zipper.
"I made sure they won't be back for a very long while. I've been laying up here for hours thinking about what I want to do to you, now shut up and let me work." Not every day is a win, but this one is. I submit completely to Jonah while he has his fill, and I discover just how much it is like our first time. I loved him then too, at that moment, even if I hadn't admitted it. To have him here, to hold him and to love him, to know that he will still hold me and love me despite everything, I know now more than ever that we're meant to be together. All of my doubt goes away and I realize that not only do I want to marry him, but that I'm going to.