The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

I've always thought of myself as the kind of person capable of profound love. It's painful to be without that now, to feel the cold and the unknown, and it's made so much worse by being back here at the frat house, in my room. Be strong, Lilah says, it'll get better in time. All wounds are supposed to heal with time, right? I don't know if that's true, so I guess I'll just take her at her word since all I have to go on these days is hope. I didn't tell her that I texted Jonah, that I tried to call him—twice—but even though he's been avoiding me I'm told that he's every bit as heartbroken. But that can't be, can it? He was the one who ended things.
Today was my first day back to class, I had a lot of groveling to do but I assured every one of my professors that I was extremely sick, which isn't all that far off from the truth. I stopped by the campus bookstore where Jonah works after my last class not too long ago, just so I could see him, but I was too much of a pussy to go inside so I only glanced in through the window. I couldn't get a good look at him, but it was enough, it made everything inside me feel so much better just to catch that one, obscured glimpse of his face.
That's all I'm allowed. That's all he'd give me and, frankly, it's more than what I should get. I don't know if he'll ever trust me again, but I do know that all our love is still here, we just aren't so sure what to do with it now. Maybe there's a chance that things could change, that he realizes he needs me as much as I need him, but until then its not the kind of hope that'll do me any good so I put it away. I focus instead on getting better, on working on the things Lilah and I sat down and figured out together. She thinks I should go to AA, and for every minute that I've been back home, I start to agree with her a little more.
So much of Jonah still fills my room, his clothes and books and movies, when I went to lay my head down last night I realized that my pillow smells exactly like him. It's the kind of thing that makes me want to cry all over again, but I'm doing what Lilah says, and I'm trying to be strong. As hard as it is I've been putting it all into bags so that she can take it to him later, but I've been sitting on the edge of my bed for damn near twenty minutes now with this stupid hoodie in my hands, unable to let it go.
It was mine, once upon a time, but when we started dating he had claimed it for himself. Now it belongs to him, in every way that matters, but when I hold it up to my face and smell it I can't bring myself to put it in the bag, so I stuff it under my pillow instead. I'm well aware of my part in all of this, all the bad choices I made, but I guess I had thought that intentions meant something, that the end would justify the means. What I have to accept, Lilah says, is that none of that matters. Taking responsibility is hard, hard enough that I've wanted to drink every second since she brought me back here, but I promised her I wouldn't.
I've already let her down enough.
Drinking is just another thing I have to give up, I'll add it to the list after football, my friends, my family, and Jonah. With a sober mind I'm finally having to take responsibility of myself as well, and find an answer to who the hell I'm supposed to be. I'm sure as shit not who I thought I was, but I guess I'm not nobody either. I'm me, whatever that means, but I'm also not quite me—I'm Brent-lite. I just need to find that light again, it must be somewhere, and if I do then maybe I can finally stop being asleep, and I can wake up from this nightmare. Without any other avenue to get it all out I grab the leather-bound journal Lilah had bought me to start writing.
I still think it's a waste of my energy, but I also remember that it had helped just a little bit before, and I'll take whatever I can get right now since I can't drink. I write about Jonah, about everything that's happened and what it feels like, I even write about the dangerous and dark thoughts that have been swirling in my head, hoping that once they're down on the paper they won't eat me from the inside out. I scribble down every thought that crosses my mind, lost in such a fervent concentration that I get whiplash from being thrown back into reality when there's a knock at my bedroom door.
At first I think it must be Lilah again, but when I fail to answer it creaks open anyway, revealing Devin on the other side. Immediately I get pissed just from seeing him, even with the contrite gaze he casts across the room, but then I think about everything Lilah said, and I hold my tongue. We look at each other for a long time while I hope silently that he doesn't expect me to be the bigger man here, but then he finally produces the football he'd been hiding behind his back with a weary smile.
"I thought you might want to catch a game before you head to work." Devin wants to pretend like we didn't almost come to blows, but I don't forget so easily. That's why I only stare at him heavily until it starts to sink in and he sighs. "Look, I know I went about it the wrong way, but I'm not going to say I'm sorry. Do I regret how everything turned out? Hell yeah, but you know it was the right thing to do."
"That's it? That's your apology?" I raise my eyebrows, more annoyed than angry about his self-aggrandizing. "It wasn't your place."
"Then whose was it? Because you weren't going to tell him, so it's not fair for you to be mad at me for doing something you didn't have the guts for." Same as before, my estranged best friend shows no reservations about stepping back into the ring. "You asked me to look out for him, remember?"
"Are you honestly that dumb, you think that's what I meant?" I'm already on my feet, preparing for another brawl. "I asked for your help, I didn't ask you to ruin everything for me."
"Call me all the names you want, you're my brother and I still love you." Devin remains strangely calm when he takes a non-threatening step forward. "You want to act like I'm the one that torpedoed your relationship? Fine, but at least admit that you've been a hot mess for months. We've all seen it, and we've just been tiptoeing around it, trying to figure out how to bring you back out of whatever this is. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just did what I think my best friend—my real best friend—would've wanted me to. Maybe you can't see that, maybe you really are too far in the hole, but I'm still waiting for him to show up."
Everything he says just makes me so angry, but no matter what I try to think of to counter him, I can't find a single flaw in his argument. He thinks I've changed too, and for better or worse I suppose there are parts of me that are different, but now that I'm already down that road I'm not sure how I'm supposed to get back. Even when I have no reason to try, rock bottom isn't a place I want to be, so I resent his insightful observation as I shoot him a glare before turning away. Not that it would ever stop him.
"I can't imagine how bad things must suck right now, seriously, but I want to be there for you. You went way too long without dealing with your shit and it just kept piling up until all this happened, I don't think you even know who you are anymore." With even more deadly accuracy he hits the target, causing me to face him again with increasing hostility. Yet he remains soft, and unafraid as he speaks, "you're probably the best person I've ever known, but it was never about how you could throw a ball or who you were dating. It's just who you are, and what pisses me off the most is that you think you've lost it—but you didn't. You can't. It's still in you."
"If you really believe that," I shake my head, scoffing, "then you're even dumber than I thought."
"Cry me a fucking river, boo-hoo. You better get it all out right here, because this is it. Starting now I don't want to hear any more about how horrible you think you, or your life, is." Is this his version of trying to help? I'm not any less annoyed, I just don't understand how after all the wrong moves I've made Devin thinks I can be anything other than this. Clearly he has some ideas, as he lowers his voice to try again. "Everybody makes mistakes, but your biggest one? Is thinking that having flaws makes you a piece of shit. And you, you're far from it, you're awesome. You're epic! So I'm not going to let anybody talk crap about my best friend—including you. Got it?"
"I don't think you—"
"Nope! Yes or no, it's that simple. Do you hear me?" Devin refuses to relent, and maybe because it's easier, or maybe because I need him and some of that vociferous zeal, I huff frustratedly and nod. I'm still pissed by what he did, but I stop to think that he might have a point. He's wrong in almost everything he said, but today, I could really use a friend. The spiel he must've spent so long rehearsing has proved successful, so he takes a breath and deflates, thrusting the football into my hands before leaning in. "Good, because I've still got your back, to the end. I'm going to help you through this."
I don't tell him that it's too late. I don't tell him that he's wasting his time or that I'm a lost cause, or any of the other stuff that might make him wise up and run the other way. I don't want to be alone again, so I talk it out with him a bit more before we end up downstairs, in the backyard, playing a mindless game of football. One game doesn't fix anything, but my god, it feels so good to laugh again, to smile, and for just the short time that he and I are pitted against each other in friendly competition I get to remember what its like to feel something other than the hurt.
It's not everything, but having Devin and Lilah both in my corner puts me in a better spot than I'd been in before, and I choose to hold onto that when our game ends and I have to get ready for work. Just like with my classes, this will be my first day back at the garage, I haven't talked to Bill since he threw me out for showing up drunk, and I haven't talked to my dad after Lilah had convinced me to come home with her either. A lot of unknowns, but I have to face them with a familiar false confidence.
I don't see my dad anywhere when I arrive, which I'm kind of relieved about, but Bill's over by the coffee pot, and he turns to look my way the second I walk through the door. Whatever hope I may have had of flying under the radar is gone after he tilts his head, signaling for me to follow him to his office. No use putting it off, so I trudge after him and take the seat in front of his desk as he sits on the edge of it so that he can tower over me. I try to seem apologetic, holding my hands in my lap while I wait for the lecture to begin.
"Are you going to fire me?" I finally ask after he just stares down at me for an uncomfortably long minute. He wouldn't be wrong to do it, not after last time. Not after I haven't shown up in a week.
"You're my kin, you know I'd never do that to you." He clears the air straightaway, almost as if he's paving the road for a smooth reconciliation until he clarifies. "But I do think maybe you ought to start looking for another job, soon."
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but it sort of sounds like you are firing me." I purse my lips, confused. In the way that's wholly normal for him he glances down at the desk, taking his time to formulate what he wants to say.
"Things are only going to get worse from here. The doctors, they tell me I don't have a lot of time now, and it's been a pain in the ass trying to make it in here anyway, so your dad's going to be taking over. Full time." Bill manages, a guilty expression on his worn and tired face. At the end of his rope and he's still caught in the middle between us, "I don't think you want that."
"We both knew this was coming, you don't need to worry so much about us, you've got to start taking care of yourself. Besides, things haven't been so bad between me and him lately, who's to say it won't work out?" All I want is to put his mind at ease, but whatever it is I said does the opposite.
"Well I don't want you here, how about that?" Maybe it's dying that makes him more honest than he's ever been before, but I can hear how hard he's fighting to say what's on his mind even though it betrays everything in him. "He's my brother, and I'll always stand by him, but I know Eddie didn't do right by you and I'm sorry about that. And I know how much time you've been spending around him lately and it does, it worries the hell out of me because nothing good's going to come of it. You deserved better—you still do. It's like you said, kid, I don't want you to die alone in this town either. I don't want you stuck here, in this life."
"I don't know what to say," and I don't. Like him I still have to fight against everything in me to think I deserve anything more than this, but to hear what he says, to feel his validation for all the years of shit I took from my dad, hits hard. I knew he cared but I guess I didn't realize just how much, but even if I took his advice and left, where would I go? I haven't figured out how to conquer being a coward. "Maybe I will start looking around. Can I think about it?"
"Sure, yeah. Don't take too long though." My uncle shakes his head, going into another prolonged silence that suggests he has something else to say. He picks at the dead skin on his hand, but eventually he makes the confession. "I was real sorry to hear about what happened with your, uh, you know, your guy friend. He seemed like a good kid. Maybe when all this is over you two can work it out."
"Maybe," I nod, no confidence in the prospect. I'm mostly just shocked by how readily he keeps exposing himself to me after so long of being an enigma, and even though I knew this was coming, now more than ever, it still feels too soon to accept that he's going to die. To give a dying man some comfort, I tell one last white lie, "I'm going to be okay, Bill. I promise. Is there anything I can do for you, that you need?"
"Don't go feeling sorry for me, I've lived a good life, Brent, better than most. I've made my fair share of mistakes along the way, but I try not to have any regrets, everything's part of the journey." Bill reaches over to pat my shoulder firmly, "I hope you know that. There are a lot of things you probably wish you could change, but even the bad stuff teaches you something, and having you here, working with you, I know without a doubt you'll land on your feet. So don't keep beating yourself up, you did good, kid. You always do."
This is the closest he'll ever come to saying he's proud of me, and again I'm surprised because I underestimated how much I've been craving to hear it. From anybody. Bill's just one more person I'm discovering has been in my corner all along, and if so many people can still see anything good left in me then I can't really be all bad, right? It's hell not drinking, and it's even worse trying to make a life without the things I really wanted, but I understand the only way I'm ever going to find my way through this is to finish what I started half-ass before and face the unknown. All of it. And that, I'm finding, get's easier with every new person rooting for me, even if I have to do it without Jonah.