The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Now that it's been a week I'm still waiting for things to feel normal again. They haven't, and while it's certainly not from lack of wishing, nothing has really changed at all. Days like these—games days—used to be my favorite. Bill would give me the evening off work so I could play, and when the time came Jonah would be in the stands cheering me on. I'm not sure where he is now, probably off tending to one of his many duties that I had been keeping him from during the recovery. And while I had been genuinely anxious to return to work before, being back at the garage this whole week has actually been hell. Maybe things are just going to suck either way.
My last class ended not too long ago, but when I set off for work I realized that I was coming here instead, back to the field where I used to play. Why do I do this to myself? I sit in the stands and watch my old team practice, still remembering the thrill, the excitement, all the planning and dedication that goes into getting ready for a game. The guys must've had a busy week, but what have I done? I tried calling a few of the tutors off the list, but none were a good fit. It's not that they're bad at what they do necessarily, it's just that I struggle with homework and stuff more than anyone else seems to, so it takes a specific kind of person to help me.
Jonah was good at that—the best. I almost forget how I got along before him. But after? This is what my life's become, worried about achieving the bare minimum to pass, it's humiliating, part of me is glad Jonah hasn't been around the past few days much to see this. It's like I don't know where I fit anymore, or how to or something. That's probably the thing I miss most about high school, if I'm being honest. It was so easy there, there were rules and structure and you knew where everything belonged, and I was a god. Now I'm this. Or, I guess this is what I've always been, but at least I had things that made me feel special, that made me feel like me. Football was one of them, but now I don't even have that.
I fucking loved playing, man. I really did.
There's no reason to sit around and cry about it though, not when that's just how it goes sometimes, so I shake it off as I finally convince myself to trudge off to work. I've tortured myself enough, I can't look back, I've got to focus on getting in my old routine again. Hell or not, being back to work has been good for that. Plus it's a great opportunity to chip away my schoolwork between projects, Bill's always been real big about making sure I take college serious like that. Having a decent job is something to be grateful for, I like that the hours are flexible and that the garage is close enough that I can walk to it from campus.
There are some challenges that come with working for family of course, but it's never been anything we couldn't handle. Not that I gave Bill much of a choice when I showed up on his doorstep begging for a job freshman year, but I'm glad all the same that he helped me out when I needed it. He's a good uncle as far as they go, mostly I just count my lucky stars that even though they come from the same place he's nothing like my dad—not in the ways that matter. I'd say I owe him one, but judging from the stack of papers I can already see littering my desk when I get to the garage, I'm probably doing him a favor.
"There you are, kid. I was expecting you twenty minutes ago," Bill issues a casual greeting, not even bothered to look up while he rifles around on the desk. "Where'd you put those goddamn order forms?"
"Right where you left them," without missing a beat I reach into the nearest pile and pull them out. He glances up now, wide-eyed like I've performed some kind of sorcery when really it's just a perk of being his glorified secretary. I know I'm not a mechanic like him, but I thought for sure when I started at his garage he might let me do something cooler than pushing papers, I mean, damn, I know a lot about cars.
"Christ. Thanks, I swear I'm losing my mind. I've got to get these filled out, you going to be fine out here by yourself?" Same as everyone else, he feels the need to check up on me. It's much weirder coming from him when you consider that he's pretty much been an enigma my entire childhood, just like most of my family. He's a strangely quick-tempered yet mild-mannered guy, but otherwise Bill keeps to himself. Thankfully he doesn't push it when I don't answer. "I left a few invoices for you there from this morning that I need processed. I'm leaving a little early today and I'd like them done before I go."
"Sure, I'll do it right now." I sit down to get started. He gives me the once over before disappearing into his office, but I don't bother trying to sort out what he's thinking. Bill's always been hard to read like that, and for better or worse we have a rhythm that I don't see the point in fucking with. He doesn't really ask about my life and I don't ask about his—I won't even ask why he's leaving early today. That's weird too, this garage is the only thing he seems to care about, he practically lives here, but in just the one week I've been back he's left early twice and even took a day off in the middle of the week.
He's basically the only family I got left and I know better than to ask questions of my short and gruff uncle. Most people would call him reserved, I think, but his standoffishness has always seemed more deliberate to me for some reason, there are very few clues that offer any insight into his mind. Even his office is kept mostly bare, except for three pictures that hang on his wall. One is of his first wife, Anna, and another is one of my old grade school pictures. The third is actually just one of those sports-themed Jesus paintings. Straight people are wild, alright?
Still, I do appreciate everything he's done, even if I low-key resent the particular job he gave me. Obviously Bill thought my choice in studies meant I would be good at keeping his shit in order, so that's my fault for picking an English major, I don't know, I thought it would be easy and Jonah kind of nudged me into it because I like writing, but the truth is I have to read every page twice. It wasn't so bad my first year in college, though it's definitely gotten more overwhelming since—to the point where the thought in the back of my head even considers taking Devin up on his harebrained scheme to see about his ex-girlfriend's roommate. It's not like I've had any better leads with tutors.
I put in my earbuds to get to work on the papery hell Bill left, finding a smile from the knowledge that Devin is probably just as stressed back at the frat house getting ready for Theta's usual aftergame party. I refuse to even think about the game itself, and fortunately for me the paperwork I have to sort through provides a nice distraction to help dwindle away the time. Before I know it Bill steps out of his office and comes over to the desk, signaling for my attention.
"I'm getting ready to take off, why don't we both call it a night?" He insists when I've given him my full attention. "Go on, give that knee some rest, I'll drive you home if you want."
"That's cool, I'm actually almost finished so I'll probably stay."
"You can finish it on Monday, come on." Bill is far too persistent, so even as dumb as I am I start to catch on. The phone he clutches tightly in his hand dings a few moments before I hear the familiar rumble of a rusty, old pickup truck rattle into the parking lot. Maybe he was nice enough to give me a job, but he and my dad are still brothers, and being blood will always mean something to him—even when his relative proximity to both of us puts him directly in the middle of our chaotic drama.
"Don't worry about it, I'm going to hang out here for a bit, but you should go." It's crazy walking in the same world but being such strangers with my own father. He pokes around here sometimes but never really says anything to me, or looks my way. Given the chance my uncle could probably come up with a host excuses to explain that, or why my dad's here now, but none of them would matter. I can't imagine the situation he puts himself in is easy, yet I can't help but be bitter about it either when an impatient honk sounds from outside. "I wouldn't keep him waiting though, you know how he hates that."
"Nobody likes a wiseass, Brent. Now, you sure you don't want me to take you home?" Bill asks sharply, in no mood to play games. I'm not either, so I put back in my earbuds and pretend like I'm busy with work until I faintly hear him offer up a quick goodnight. My eyes follow after him when it's safe, out to the parking lot to catch a glimpse of my dad, reclined in the driver's seat while he takes a long drag off his cigarette. It's not a clear view from here, but he probably looks the same as always.
Honestly, why do I do this to myself? He made his feelings perfectly clear the day he threw me out, so I should be beyond caring what he looks like. We're a long ways from when I used to live under his roof, and I've got plenty of memories to remind me of what it was like then—scars too. He doesn't scare me anymore though, or, he's not supposed to at least, but I find myself waiting ten minutes after they've gone before I even consider getting up from the desk. I may have lied to Bill about staying, but there's no way I'm getting anymore work done tonight.
It's a short walk to get back to the frat house, and when I do I discover that the party is already well underway. Maybe my whole day is ruined from seeing my dad, or maybe it's just a product of the past month like everything else, but my stomach turns as I stand out on the street. I'm assuming we must've won the game since none of my old teammates are out here cursing loudly on the front lawn, and I'm not sure if that makes it worse either. Regardless, I pull out my phone to text Jonah, hoping that if he's not already here then he might be okay with ditching this thing after all, I'd much rather hide out in his dorm to watch a movie or something.
I've gone way longer without seeing him, but even so, I've missed him like crazy these last few days. I really need him right now—I always do—but when he doesn't respond to my text I'm forced to brave the walk up to the house and into the fire, where I'm met immediately with a culmination of senses that hit me with an intense nostalgia. And goddamn does it suck, I would've been the life of the party before my accident, but lately all I've still wanted to do is hide out in my room. That's not an option tonight though, so I guess I'll get hammered to make it through this inhumane torture.
"It's about time you showed up!" Devin appears with two of our bros in formation when I've made it to the kitchen. He's clearly already had a couple beers—the one he's holding up in his hand is probably at least his fifth—which makes him even louder, and even more excited than usual. "You missed it, Chapman fucking pissed himself like ten minutes ago. What do you think, should we go see if he's still crying?"
"No thanks." Normally I would love to be engaged in the wild antics, because what's a frat party without a grown man sobbing in the corner? But nothing's changed so I just take my drink and push passed him to get back the living room—that's where I'll have the best view of the front door for when Jonah shows up.
"Hey, wait, where are you going?" Disappointment is thick in Devin's voice, and I hear him mumble something to the other guys to get rid of them before chasing me down. "Seriously, don't start this shit again."
"I'm not starting anything, I'm just waiting for my boyfriend. Is that okay?"
"Dude, you can't keep doing this. Tell me what you need so we can get this party started. You need a little pick me up, huh? You want me to give you a little show?" He sarcastically goes from nudging me to doing the stupidest dance I've ever seen, and I can't help but laugh at his idiocy. I won't bother answering the question though, he would never stop picking on me if I actually told him what I needed was Jonah.
"No offense, but you should probably stop doing that if you want to get laid tonight," I beckon to the group of girls watching and laughing. He immediately sobers up and stands a bit straighter, peeking over at them sheepishly to offer a humbled wave. As if it's my fault somehow, he socks me in the shoulder, but it only forces another laugh. "Sorry to say, I think you've already struck out with them, Dev. I wouldn't be too worried about it, you can always troll one of the freshmen."
"You're an asshole," despite what he says, he still grins and rolls his eyes, "see, it's not all bad, right? Everything's good, man, stop being such a pussy."
"I'm not." I shove him in retaliation, taking a large drink of my beer. "You've just got to give me a minute to catch up."
"Time's up, bitch. Remember my ex's roommate, the one who does the tutoring? I invited her tonight—you're welcome, by the way—she came in not too long ago."
"What the fuck?"
"Where's the love? Apparently she helped her ex all through high school and he was dumber than a post, so she can work with anything! Plus she's pretty chill, and majorly hot, not that you care, but this could be a huge opportunity for both of us! Don't blow it, she already said she'd think about it." For as lazy as he is, I'm impressed with how much effort he's put into this setup, so much so that I hesitate too long to voice my objections to his plan. "Wait right here, okay? Don't move, I'll go grab her so I can introduce you."
"Devin!" It's too late to stop him when he bounds off to retrieve this mystery stranger who will apparently be everything I need. Truth be told I'm not sure why I'm so resistant to the idea, maybe it's just because I really don't want to let go of Jonah. He needs this though, he can't afford to carry my burdens anymore, he should already be canonized for how much he's helped me. It's still hard to remember how I ever made it as far as I did before him, but then again I had someone almost as smart helping me out back then.
"Oh hell no." The voice of the she-devil creeps up the moment I think about her, and while I think I've imagined it at first the shocking reality sends chills down my spine when I turn around. Devin stands there proudly, like he's just given me the greatest gift of all, but he must be too stupid to notice my horrified expression when I'm pitted face to face with the one thing from my past I miss the least. The feeling is understandably mutual, even before I see Maddy's hateful sneer. "You've got to be kidding me."