The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

How did it end up like this? I think back to a year ago, and how different mine and Jonah's relationship had been before that stupid accident and all the shit that came out of it. There were never any secrets between us, we shared everything and always told one another the truth no matter how bad. But things changed, as they always do, and regardless of how hard I fought so they'd stay the same here we are, with everything so fucked up that I can't stand to look at him. Again I have to consider the point of hiding things away, even when we tell ourselves that these little white lies matter, that they can spare someone any heartache.
Why do we tell ourselves they all add up to something? Because they have to? But they don't. They won't. They never will. All the secrets I've kept and the lies I've told have led up to this moment, and I've never hated myself more than I do now. I had thought I saw a stranger in my reflection before, that something I needed had gone out in me, but I was wrong. I should have been grateful; I should have nurtured the pieces that were left to stop this metamorphosis, but it's too late and there are no words for what I've become.
"I really thought I had a shot at winning." Jonah says glumly, as disappointed as he's been the last couple days. Those days proved more than just how much he had wanted this, because now that he's lost it he's predictably searched for his comfort in me.
"You never know, you might still get a call." Devin perks up, playing the supportive role that's supposed to be mine. He's been good for Jonah, him and Grace. When she's not constantly texting her downhearted best friend, Devin goes out of his way to cheer him up.
"They already announced the winners, it's done." Same as always, Jonah remains pragmatic about the situation. There's nothing I could say to him, I don't have the right, so I only tighten my arm around his waist while he sits on the bed beside me, but even that feels wrong. I should be studying with Maddy right now, instead of up here in my room, trapped with them and this impossible guilt, but I blew her off. How can I smile, or laugh ever again? I've already had more to drink today than either of them know, and even though I love Jonah so much—enough to do what I did—I can't wait for him to be gone so I can breathe easier.
"Do you maybe want to do something later to take your mind off of it? Me and Grace were going to do a video call, but we can do a three-way." It takes too long for the serious nature of this conversation to get through Devin's thick skull, so he laughs inappropriately at his dumb joke. "Or maybe you guys should have a date or something. What do you think, Brent?"
"I've got a lot to do tonight." I couldn't face this thing before with him, but now that I've made it so much worse, what choice do I have? Seeing how he's been, hell, even just seeing him, kills me. I've already told so many, what's another lie? "Homework and stuff, you know, and I think work might run over—Bill wants me to organize some files. That reminds me, I should probably start getting ready."
"Okay, but text me if you get done early." Jonah doesn't need to be told twice, and after he sits there for a minute like I might change my mind, he gets up and walks to the door. As if it doesn't already break me into pieces to see what I've done to him, he glances back to offer a tired smile. "I love you."
"I love you too." It's the only true thing I've said to him in days, but it still makes me want to puke. When he's gone I look to Devin, who's watching me in a strange way. Who knows what he's thinking, and right now when the weight of the world has gotten so heavy that it's about to crush me, I can't care. I get up next, "will you guys call him later, Dev?"
"What, why me?"
"I just need you to do this for me, please. Promise me you'll look out for him." I stare at my suspicious best friend, hoping he'll relent and hoping he can put enough of it together on his own to do this one thing. Maybe he wonders what goes through my mind too, but regardless he eventually nods reluctantly so I thank him and head downstairs to further drown these rotten feelings the only way that's ever worked. This isn't just any bad feeling that I need to bury down though—it's maybe the worst thing I've ever done, and I keep drinking for the chance that it might actually work.
I'm not sure when I finally stop. I'm not even sure how I get to work, but suddenly I'm sitting at my desk, aware that my dad is off to one side, gawking at me while he whispers with one of the other guys. My head pounds and I feel a familiar anger that has nowhere to go, and I've almost convinced myself to go over there and start something I know I won't be able to finish, but then Bill appears in front of the desk. My dad slinks off and the room goes uncomfortably quiet as my uncle just stares at me for a long and painful minute.
"Jesus, Brent. What the hell are you doing?" His question is filled with such a heavy disappointment. What else did he expect though? He carries the Fox name, he had the same fucked up parents as my dad and even when he refuses to acknowledge it, he has to see that his brother didn't turn out any better. Did he really expect more from me? He must, but he doesn't say anything about it, he just sighs, "why don't you go on home, get some rest."
"I don't want to go home." It's another painful truth I have the good grace to say. Well, I mumble it anyway. I can't go back there and see Jonah again.
"You can't stay here, not like this." Bill persists, an unusual empathy entwined with the disappointment. How many times has he had to do this with my father, I wonder. How many nights has he had to talk him down before? It must be second nature by now, so I don't know why it's so frustrating for him. "Look at you. What's going on?"
"None of your goddamn business." It's more than a murmur now, and I look at him sharply, appalled that he dares to ask when he's always been so good at keeping his own secrets. That unusual empathy of his is beginning to burn, and I can't stand his pity for another second. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine, kid." He says coolly, unaffected by my hot-headed temper. Probably just one more thing he's used to dealing with. "Now I don't know what all this is about, but this isn't you, showing up here like this. You're damn lucky you're my nephew, if anybody else pulled a stunt like this I would fire their ass on the spot."
"Then fire me." I stand up, trying to be bold when I only wobble unevenly before catching my balance on the desk.
"Tough talk, but who else is going to take you like that?" When he gestures wide I think I hear something different in his tone, and while I try to discern whether or not it's disgust he takes a step back to regain his composure. "All I'm saying is you're scaring me, I've been down this road before and believe me it's not easy. It's ugly, and brutal, and I might not know what's getting you so worked up, but I do know you want more from your life than this."
"You want to know what's wrong with me, Bill? Knowing I'm going to die alone in this shitty town like the rest of you." Where does he get off preaching to me like he's been to the mountain and back? What has he done with his life? Does he ever think about that now, when he doesn't have long to live? It just pisses me off more and I can't filter my thoughts in time before they force their way out. They don't have the deadly bite I had anticipated though, because once I've said it he only goes back to being quiet, and wearing that look of hesitant disappointment.
"Get out of here, kid—you're breaking my heart. You remind me more and more of your old man every day." Though he surely meant anything but, I'm at a loss when he says the cruelest thing possible. I have many ways to respond to such a low insult, but I don't want to be that mean—I don't want to be my father, repaying all this hurt by sending it back out into the world. As hard as it is I bite my tongue and stumble passed Bill, trying to get out of the garage as quickly as I can. So maybe I don't recognize myself anymore, but it's not my fault, and no matter how far I'm taken away from who I was I'll never be my dad, that pathetic and bitter old drunk with no hope and no purpose.
Or is it already too late for me?
What happens next is all a blur, I have a vague recollection of going to the bar and having a couple more drinks. But then I'm right back to teetering on the side on the road so I can't be too sure, and when I check my phone I discover that some time has passed. It seems like an endless walk to get home, until I blink and suddenly I can see the frat house at the end of the street. Now I'm starting to feel really sick, but it's more than just the alcohol, it's all the way down into my soul and I still can't stomach the thought of having to face any of this after what I've done. How am I supposed to live with this lie for the rest of my life?
"There you are, where have you been?" Out of the darkness comes a soft voice, and Maddy stands up from the porch step where she'd been entrenched in shadow.
"Why are you here?" Even my own voice sounds unknown to me. I grab ahold of the rail to keep steady, seeing that she wears the same concerned expression as my uncle.
"I was worried, you wouldn't answer any of my calls, and when I talked to Jonah he said—"
"You talked to Jonah?" The idea is enough to sober me right up, and I can't imagine a world where she would be desperate enough to reach out to him. "You shouldn't have done that."
"What other choice did I have? Something's been super off with you and you won't talk to me. From what it sounds like, you won't talk to anybody."
"There's nothing wrong with me." I practically growl when I try to move up the stairs, but she only blocks my path. Why the hell is everyone so interested in what I'm doing all of a sudden when nobody seemed to notice how not okay I've been for months?
"If this was just you brooding that'd be one thing, I remember how much you like to sulk," she takes a step down, nose to nose with me now. The no doubt overwhelming smell of my intoxication doesn't faze her one bit as she stands bravely. "But you forget I know you, Brent Ian Fox, I've seen you at your worst. Maybe you've got the rest of them fooled, but you're going to have to try a hell of a lot harder with me."
"Just leave me alone, Madison." Again I try to move around her, but she won't relent.
"Is this really how you want it to go with us? Because I thought we were passed that, and you should know by now there's nothing you can say that I can't take. No more lies." Maddy remarks firmly, capable of seeing through all my best defenses. Maybe no one else has been able to see, but she has, and maybe it's taken me way too long to learn that all these lies aren't worth a damn, but she's known it for quite some time. As if it wasn't enough, she forfeits another part of herself that I don't deserve. "Please, talk to me. I still care about you."
"Why would you? I'm a fucking monster." I started like a roaring lion, but I can barely get it out in a whisper. The ugly truth that I'm forced to admit breaks something in me, and I can't stop the first tear from spilling over onto my cheek. Without a thought she reaches out, but I grab her wrist roughly. It should be enough to stop her, to scare her away, but instead she persists, pulling out of my grasp.
"You're not a monster." She whispers back through the night, wiping away the tear.
"I stole Jonah's chance to be something, to leave this goddamn town." The confession emerges. I hadn't meant to say it. I had meant for it to hide behind the lie forever, but I can't stop from telling her how I had taken the call meant to change his life, how I had pretended to be him to turn down the offer. How I had blocked the number, deleted the email—so many little steps where I had every chance to stop and think. But I didn't, because I wasn't thinking of him, or love. I was thinking about myself, and now I can't stand to look at the one thing I love more than any other.
"You're not a monster, Brent. You're not." Maddy repeats herself as she takes my face into both of her hands, holding on so gently while I just cry. "It doesn't matter what you did, I'm sure you had your reasons. Let it out, I'll stay with you all night if I have to."
"Maddy," but what more can I say to her? I'm shaking uncontrollably and I should be a man and toughen up, but it's too hard with her staring through me so completely like she is. Everything has been so fucked up, it seems like the only time I'm at ease is when I'm with her and that doesn't stop now. There's something about her, about the way she can always see that I'm drowning when a thousand other people walk right on by. I'm safe with her somehow, the kind of safe I don't get anywhere else, and just for this one night when everything's so wrong and it hurts I would do anything to stay in that safety.
My world keeps spinning and I'm terrified of being thrown off it's axis, but she's right in front of me, something to hold onto. Her hands are soft on my face, same as the strand of hair I run my fingers through absently, and it feels like I'm staring at her forever before I lose all sense of time again. I'm not sure how it happens, or even if I have complete control anymore, but suddenly I'm closer to her and I can feel her breath on my skin, warm and rapid. Then the impossible happens—regardless of our past, and the hurt, and our circumstance—before I know it my lips are pressed right up against hers, and I'm kissing my ex-girlfriend.