The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

Music blares loudly through the co-ed filled frat house, signaling the start of another great party. This isn't just any party though, it's special, it's a reward for everyone who worked so hard studying, and to those of us who will be saying goodbye to this place for the last time. It's the end of the year party, and now that exams are over, all that's left is to get drunk and purge all the stress that's been building for weeks. Me, I'm not much in the celebrating mood, I mean yeah, I'm confident I passed all my exams and I'm actually about to graduate college, but I'm also unemployed and broke, and the end of the year brings some other things to an end too.
I could definitely use some fun, but I'm way too aware of what it might lead to, it's already been hell being here around all this alcohol. So for once I'm the wallflower—which is weird and I don't like it—but I'm not the only one hiding out of sight, because right over by the stairs in the living room I see Maddy. The somewhat sadly humorous fact that we both feel like we have to be alone at this party is not lost on me, and I think about going over there, but I'm not sure if we're back to being in that kind of place with each other. Besides, I don't get long to debate it before my thoughts are intercepted.
"Bro, what the hell you doing over here? Chapman challenged me to do a fucking keg stand and I could really use your support!" Devin finds where I've tucked myself into a corner, slapping me hard on the back.
"You'll do great, Dev, I'll cheer you on from here." I joke lightly, noting the slight disappointment on his face that he tries to hide. He's been such an amazing best friend, a surprisingly competitive running partner, and the greatest late night confidant I could've hoped for. I hate to let him down now, especially with how much he's been there for me the last couple months, but I know he must understand. I tease him harder, "come find me after, I'll hold your hair while you puke."
"Yeah right, motherfucker. You know I'm not some lightweight!" He jabs at my gut playfully but I catch his arm, pulling him into a chokehold. We horse around for a minute until he's able to get loose, and then we share a laugh, but eventually he still accepts that I can't join him for any rad party games. He pivots to return to the fray, offering one final quip. "Don't stand over here like a loser all night, at least talk to your boy."
"My what?" I ask, caught off guard. Devin only grins mischievously as he goes to the front door, just in time to greet a couple of familiar faces. Grace is the first one I see, which is no big deal, but then right behind her is Jonah, and I find myself standing a little taller as he looks around. I want him to see me, just so I can get a wave or maybe even a smile, but he's not the one I lock eyes with. It's her. When Grace notices me she offers up that smile I had been yearning for, and then turns to whisper something in Jonah's ear.
The secret's not that hard to ferret out, because he looks at me too then, and my palms legit begin to sweat as she and Devin wander off elsewhere and he starts my way.
"Hey," Jonah says tentatively, clearing his throat, his eyes darting between my face and my feet. "Sorry, I don't know if this is weird, I wanted to come over and say hi."
"No, I get it—and it's not!" I laugh, super fucking awkward. Why the hell do I have to be awkward with him though? I've known him for an eternity, our love was mythic, the kind of thing people write songs about. We've done things together it would be humiliating to tell anyone else about—Grace and Devin included—so I know it doesn't have to be this way with us now. I gather my courage, take a breath, and face him head on when I'm more in control. "I'm really happy you did. I've missed you."
"I know," he hesitates, not wanting to give too much away, "it feels unfair to say I miss you too. But I do."
"It's cool. If you have time now maybe we could hang out and just talk?" There's no telling how far this new and fragile courage might carry me, but I push it anyway. Being honest apparently makes him feel safe to be honest with me too though, and I can see how he truly fights with himself on what he should say, so I aim to make it as easy as possible for him. I raise my cup, "can I get you something to drink?"
"Uh, sure. What have you got?" With a curious and somewhat suspicious expression, he eyes the contents of my cup.
"This? This is just soda, but you can have whatever you want—we're fully stocked, you know how Devin gets." I reassure him of my painful sobriety, but even after he opts to join me in a non-alcoholic drink I wonder how much he knows. I hand him his cup, "I've actually been going to AA, I don't know if you heard, or whatever, but I've been sober for a few months now."
"Come to think of it, Lilah did mention it one or two times. Maybe more." Jonah jokes, painting the same picture of the overbearing mother I've become well acquainted with. We chuckle together at her expense, breaking the ice before he gets serious. "Good for you though, I was glad that after everything you took it seriously. I was really worried about you, but it sounds like you've been doing great."
"I've been trying to." I pause. "Since you brought it up though, I wanted to apologize for, well, all of it."
"You don't have to do that," when the conversation steers too close to home Jonah gets uncomfortable, I can tell by how he shifts his posture. I don't blame him, I know this is hard, but I also know it's necessary—today more than ever if he's really about to disappear out of my life for good.
"Please, just humor me for a minute, I really need to do this—especially when you were right about almost everything. There's no excuse, I had problems that I wasn't dealing with and I understand now that I should've been working on fixing myself instead of just dragging you into my mess. I know it had to be hell, so I'm sorry for everything I put you through." Coming clean to him isn't as hard as I thought when, having him here in front of me, the confession practically pours out on its own. The heart I'm learning every day to wear on my sleeve feels so painfully exposed while I wait for him to respond.
"What was I wrong about?" He asks reluctantly after a minute. "You said I was right about almost everything?"
"When you said I didn't love you." I'm more serious when I set my cup down on the counter, taking a step forward. I watch him swallow hard as I do, but he stands his ground regardless while he stares back at me with wide and unsuspecting eyes. "I've done a lot of fucked up shit, and I know you're leaving for New York soon, but I didn't want you to go before I could tell you that I still love you. I always will, Jonah, and maybe you can't believe anything else I say, but I hope you can believe that."
"I know you do, I shouldn't have said that," Jonah shakes his head, and the same as before it's obvious how much he feels it too, volatile and dangerous. All I want right now is to hold him, he's so close, but I only get to look at him instead as he starts to unravel. "This hasn't been easy for me either, you know? It took me a while but I think I understand why you did everything you did, and I'm sorry for how alone I made you feel—I know you were going through your own thing."
"Eh, it's all water under the bridge now, right?" I dismiss his apology. Hearing that he understands was all I wanted for a long time, but even that doesn't seem important anymore, I'm done keeping score of who hurt who when all I want these days is just for things to be good. Still, I smile for him. "I appreciate it though, sometimes I'm not even sure it makes sense to me."
"You know Grace had a lot to say about it, and Lilah, they really helped make sense of it." He remarks quietly. "And Madison. I actually got an email from her last week, which is apparently still a thing—emailing people. I'm not sure what all you said to her, but she only had good things to say about you. She even mentioned more about that night."
"Did she?" I'm sure I could guess what her email entailed, and looking at Jonah's expectant and unassuming face now I'm also sure he thinks I'll have something to say about it. Like I said though, there is no score anymore, so I only sigh. "It doesn't really change anything, does it? Whatever happened, you still got hurt and that's my fault."
"You're not the only one who made mistakes." Jonah's surprisingly forthcoming, even if he can only say it slowly and with his eyes trained down at his drink. "This whole year has been so fucked up, do you ever wish you could get a do over? I hope you know this was never what I wanted, and I'm honestly just trying to put it all behind me. Maybe you should do the same."
"What if I can't?" How much simpler would our lives be if we always had all the right answers? But no one does. We fuck up and we get hurt and things don't always go the way we plan, but that's how we know what to do next. I'm out of a job and about to be out of a place to live, and despite all the strides I've made I still don't know what's going to happen with my life, but I have faith. And I have courage. And now that I know better I won't make the same mistakes.
"I don't get what you mean," despite saying the words, I know damn well Jonah knows exactly what I mean as he stands there trying to avoid the obvious tension between us. That tension continues to run out of room when I take another step closer.
"Don't act like you don't feel it too." Now I'm too close to ignore, he has to feel the heat from my skin, drown in my scent. I know this because I'm drowning in his too, unwilling to deny the painful love we share just because it would be easier, or convenient. I'm putting everything on the line to be honest with him—my pride, my heart—and it gets me all emotional. "I'm not perfect, and I know I still have some work to do, but I don't want to put this behind me. I don't want to lose you like this, Jonah, not for good."
"Please don't make this harder than it already is." His expression changes when I manage to get just beneath his skin, to tap into all those emotions he'd been keeping in check so well. "We've gone through it all before, aren't you tired? I don't know what else you want me to say."
"That you don't love me." I speak with force, unguarded and filled with a desperate yearning that I'm afraid might make me explode. "Or at the very least that you don't want me. Tell me I'm just wasting my time here because I don't think I am, I don't think you want this to be over either."
"It's too late for that." Jonah stares at me with vacant eyes, anguish weaved through the furrow of his brow. He's not just finished with me, he's finished with the anger too, and the sadness, and I can see how frustrated that it makes him to be its slave for even a second longer. Yet it's important now, and he starts again from that place he had tried to bury, "I'm always going to love you too, but I'm leaving tomorrow—I have to do this. I hope you can respect that, I just didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."
We're so close, but still so far away, and for an agonizing minute we only stare at each other. I won't stop him from chasing his dreams again, but how am I supposed to be okay with watching him walk out of my life? He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer gently, tucking his face into my neck. It's an intimate embrace, one I treasure for every moment that he allows it to go on, but then it ends when he pulls away. His lips press against mine while we kiss goodbye one last time, and it goes far longer than I expect, but I wonder if maybe he wants something to treasure too.
I feel everything I'm supposed to when I watch Jonah go, through the living room and out of the door, and I want to drink. More so now than any time in the past few months of my sobriety, so I leave too before I cave. I head upstairs and put in my earphones to drown out the party, listening to all of our favorite songs while I wait to fall asleep so I can dream of nothing but him. It might seem impossible now, but I've weathered the worst storms before, so even though I can't quite make this pain stop I keep the faith.
The dreams I end up having aren't as sweet as I had hoped, and when I wake from them I almost feel like I haven't slept at all, let alone all the way into the afternoon. Yet that's what I see when I look at my phone, as well as several missed calls from my dad. It's the last thing I'd thought to expect, but with an idea already formulating in my mind of what he could possibly still want, I call him back. There is no gravitas when he answers, no small talk, he cuts right to the point to tell me what I had already felt in the pit of my gut, what's been coming for months. He delivers the news that Bill's about to die.