The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Yet again I find myself at a crossroad, a nexus that will decide my fate, and it's a truly fucking terrible place to be. There's so much uncertainty in my life, I don't know what's going to happen, and for the past month I've stayed in this exact spot, stagnant, suspended, frozen in time. It's been a month of nothing but questions, and doubt, and trying to create any kind of peace out of the utter chaos. Bill's been in and out of work, nothing out of the ordinary, though I still haven't the slightest clue when he might vanish from my world completely. It could be today for all I know. For every second that's passed I still haven't come up with a way to make peace or face this thing with Jonah, especially when his mind is so set on leaving.
Lilah continues planning our wedding like it has any real importance anymore, but I'm starting to just get the sense that it's pointless. That, more than anything else, tears me to pieces. Maybe it's because I've been hyperaware or sensitive, or whatever you want to call it since I talked to my dad last. I guess I can count my lucky stars that he's been essentially avoiding me since our run in at the hospital—even if I know it's only a matter of time before that need to inflict hurt gets the better of him again. Like I said, I'm just kind of stuck waiting for something—anything—to happen.
"I'm shocked. I mean, pleasantly, but still, you're totally going to ace this." Maddy chimes, breaking me from my intrusive thoughts. Oddly enough, this is the one thing that hasn't stayed the same, and more over, has gotten better. Turns out it's not so difficult after all to put those ugly things behind us once she was able to get some of that weight of her chest. She reviews the paper I'm about to turn in, impressed by how well written it is. Apparently being an English major wasn't already enough of an indicator. "There's just a couple things we need to fix."
"I proofed it like five times." I say.
"And it shows, it's good." She mutters, distracted as her eyes continue scanning the page. It's been nice having her tutor me again, sure, but mostly it's just been nice to have someplace to escape to that's not so, I don't know, challenging. Don't get me wrong, Devin's great, but he's been a lot more unavailable lately now that Grace has started really taking an interest in him. I'm happy for him, and hey, that's why I have Maddy. In the event that I somehow didn't hear her, she repeats herself quietly. "It's really good."
"Thanks." I roll my eyes.
"No, I'm serious. Have you ever thought about doing more with this? Writing, I mean."
"That's a funny thing to ask someone with dyslexia."
"Just because you have to work a little harder doesn't mean you're automatically garbage at it, dumbass." It's Maddy's turn to roll her eyes, which she does while waving the paper in my face frantically. "In fact, it's probably the opposite, look at all this attention to detail. I have to assume you chose your major for a reason, and I mean you used to like it, I remember you writing all those weird little stories when we were in high school. What did you call them? Fanfiction?"
"We don't talk about that." I can only hope my cheeks aren't bright red as I snatch the paper back from her hands. True, the poems I started scribbling down to get better at writing eventually evolved into much more, but then Marcus caught me one day and rode my ass hard about it for weeks. That was pretty much the end of it, and anyways, it was a totally lame and nerdy thing that I'm super embarrassed she remembers.
"Maybe we should." She tries in vain to retrieve the paper from my grasp, but I pull it away. I appreciate all of her generosity. I appreciate her meeting me here on the quad during my free period when I'm sure she could be using this time to study for her own shit. But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit through this torture. Eventually she gives up in a frustrated huff, "graduation's not that far off now, and you still haven't decided what you're going to do after."
"So? It's not like I have a lot of options." Surprisingly—or sadly, depending on your point of view—I don't feel all that bitter when I say it.
"Why are you so stubborn? Oh my god, I can't even with you sometimes. Even if you hadn't messed up your knee, it's not like you were headed to the NFL or anything, you must have given it some thought."
"You don't think I could've made it to the NFL?" I tease.
"Oh I know you could've made it, but let's be real, you'd never be able to tear yourself away from Jonah long enough." At first she teases back, but she quickly realizes the joke's poor taste when I don't laugh with her. After a long moment she reaches again for the paper, and I let her have it. "I really think you should consider it, Brent. You're talented."
"Thank you, Maddy." There's more sincerity to it when I say it now, and even though I know she's just grasping at straws to paint any future for me that doesn't look so dead-end, I'm grateful. Plus, she unwittingly hits on something important, so I seize the opportunity to turn it around on her. "All this talk, does that mean you've decided what you're going to do then?"
"Hey, this isn't about me." When she dares to venture another laugh, I join in. Her nearly flawless skin stretches taught as she points her face up to the sun with a pretend haughtiness. "And besides, I already told you I'm keeping my options open."
"As you should, but in the meantime," I grab my backpack, rummaging around for the precious cargo I've been storing just for her. It's right where I left it, tucked carefully between the pages of my notebook, and I hold the flimsy advertisement hesitantly before handing it over. "I thought this might be a good thing for you."
"Ballet lessons?" Maddy studies the advertisement that I'd swiped off one of the bulletin boards downtown.
"Yeah. Well, they offer different classes depending on how good you are, but we were talking before about how much you loved to dance, so I thought maybe you'd want to start doing it again." This month has been hell with the not knowing, but I've been steadfast in my resolve to save her. I didn't forget. I did some searches on the internet too, but when I went looking and found this it felt like it was meant to be. This might not be the key to her whole happiness, but I think back to when she was at her best, and it feels like if I can get her in touch with some of that again then maybe the rest will work itself out.
"I can't believe you did this." When she speaks it almost sounds like she's mad, but then she glances up and instead I can see how deeply the gesture touches her. It's all the proof I need that I haven't wasted more time than I'll ever admit looking for things that can bring her any joy—to restore any of that light she's lost. She leans over, wrapping her arms around me in an embrace that lasts longer than I expect before folding up the ad and putting it in her pocket. "Honestly I'm not sure if this is anything I'll do, but the fact that you tried means a lot. You're too sweet."
"You're not going to sign up?"
"I don't know if I'm that girl anymore, you know?" Her eyes widen, and she's unafraid to ask the tough questions, and I realize I can't argue with her because—yes—I do know. Am I even still the same? Maybe she can't see it now, but I still think getting her to remember that girl is the best way to save her, and that's more important to me than ever when I keep getting farther and farther away from myself, and where I want to be. My future, no matter how she wants to frame it, is as uncertain as ever, but I can see just how bright hers remains. It'll take some work to get her there, I just wish she could see that she doesn't need any man to complete her. She's great and worthy all on her own.
We've distracted ourselves too much in our already fleeting time together, so we put away our talk about potential and hope and plans for after we graduate. We go back to reviewing my paper and ensuring that I'm on a clear path to even make it that far, and then we say goodbye to finish out the rest of our days. It feels good to have purpose other than just existing, but helping Maddy doesn't come with the all-encompassing peace I had hoped for, especially when I have such an ugly reality to face. My last class ends and when I'm all out of seconds to stall I head to work.
Bill's not here again today, but it wouldn't change much if he was, because even when he's in the building it's still like he isn't here. He puts on a brave face and does his best to act like my normal uncle, but half the time he just stares right through me, through all of us. I used to kind of like this job, and now these days I dread going in because I know my dad will be waiting, a permanent fixture with his glowering jeers. It's business as usual when I punch in, he gives me the dirtiest look he can muster before slithering off to be anywhere away from me.
Sure, maybe he hasn't said much to me in the past month, but that's almost certainly because what he's already said is sufficient enough. Maybe that's a lot of the reason I dread going home too. Jonah may have finished his project weeks ago, but it's still all he talks about now. He doesn't ask a lot about Bill, or my grades, or how I feel about him or the wedding—he only talks about his dreams, his hopes, and how much he can't wait to move halfway across the country for a year. Without me. I know he loves me, I do, I always have and I'm trying as hard as I can not to doubt that now, but I gave up everything for him once, and I would do it again. It just sucks to also know those feelings aren't reciprocated.
And if they're not, if there are things he could possibly want more, what happens when he goes someplace like New York where there are a thousand people like him? People who are just as smart, and enjoy the same things, and can actually give him a future outside of this crappy town that will actually go somewhere. What then? I wouldn't blame him one bit for wanting someone who's not me, because I wouldn't want me either. As tough as it is to admit, my dad's at least right about that, so I've just been getting to live with that over my head all this time, lost in the unknown while I wait for that day to come.
When works ends I'm still dreading going home, but I return to the frat house anyway to wait until Jonah summons me over to his dorm for what little time he's managed to spare for us. It'll be another night of listening to how excited he is, so to prepare for it I grab a beer. That one doesn't last long enough so I start on another, and I even think I might have a third before I trudge up to my room and see the journal Lilah had bought me sitting on the desk, as untouched as the day I got it. I don't think I'll ever know how to face this thing with Jonah—I don't know how to tell him that something's so very wrong—but I know I have to get it out somehow so I sit down and just start writing.
After his text finally comes through I've already burned through ten pages, and I actually feel just a tiny bit better. Not because it changes anything, but because I have some ideas of how I might try to come clean to him about what's been eating away at me. It may not be much, but it's all I have as I walk over to his dorm.
"Hi there, handsome." He grins wide after he opens the door, leaning in for a kiss. Everything I think to say gets jumbled up when I see how happy he is, and in his perfect world I can't imagine he thinks there's anything wrong. He's got a loving family who supports him, and a shot at doing something great—something he's really passionate about—and then me, just swaying in the background, always there to pick him up when the rest falls through. I have to be more than a consolation to him though, right? He continues, "I missed you."
"Me too. Listen, Jonah, I thought we could talk," I accept the open invitation to enter the dorm, insistent on spilling my guts before I chicken out or forget what I wanted to say, but my train of thought is tragically derailed when I find both Grace and Devin waiting inside.
"I have the room all to myself tonight, so I thought we could all hang out because," Jonah stops for dramatic effect, hyping up an already excited audience, "tomorrow's the big day. You remember my competition? They're officially picking the winners!"
"They're what?" All the blood rushes out of me when I learn, too late, that I'm out of time. Doesn't matter what I wanted to say, doesn't even matter how I feel, I couldn't bring myself to face this and now I have to deal with the consequence.
"Isn't it exciting?" My clueless fiancé jumps for joy, remembering me only as an afterthought. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Nothing." I mumble. Why waste the breath? All I can do now is hope and pray that they don't pick him, which is such a fucked up thing to do, but it's how I end up spending my entire night while Jonah and Grace and Devin laugh and celebrate. At least there's beer, so I sit quietly in the corner and drink, so much fear and resentment building as I fade away quietly, listening to Jonah plan the life he's always really wanted. They don't notice me, they don't see my world tearing apart at the seams and coming down around me, so I just drink until it's dark and I don't remember anything anymore.
My head pounds when I wake up, hours later, to the sun already high in the sky. Grace and Devin are asleep on the floor, curled up next to one another, and Jonah has his arm thrown over me. For a moment I wonder what brought me back to this ugly reality, but then I hear the violent buzz on the nightstand next to my head. It's Jonah's phone, and I grab it up to see an unknown caller, from an area code I don't recognize. I was a fool to think the news about Bill dying was the change I'd been expecting, because now I know, with everything in me, that this is the call that will change everything.