More Happy Than Not

“Okay.”

“You’re a virgin.”

“Nope.”

“You’re a descendant of aliens.”

“Still no.”

“I’m out of guesses. Let me tell you something about me: I don’t care if you’re a gigantic virgin who’s part alien. You’re Stretch and nothing you say is going to change that.”

I hide in my hands, and then dig my nails into my head as if I can tear off my face and unmask the person I’m trying to reveal. “Okay, yeah, I kind of, maybe, sort of, might . . . I think I might . . . I like guys, okay?” And then I sit here, unable to take the words back. I wait for the world to spin out of control, or worse, for Thomas to get up and walk away.

“That’s it?”

“Kind of maybe sort of.”

“Okay. So what?”

I look up and the sky isn’t bleeding. I hear cars honking and drunk people shouting. Birds are still flying and stars are coming out of hiding, like me. Kids my age are having their first kisses right now or even taking it a step further. Everything, life, is continuing. “You don’t care?”

“I care about you but I don’t care about that. I mean, I do care but I don’t care in that way you think I care.” Thomas scratches his head and whistles. “You know what I mean, right? I don’t care that you’re gay.”

“Can we maybe use a different word? I’m still wrapping my head around this.”

He gives me a thumbs-up. “Dude, this is your business. If a code word makes you feel more comfortable, I’m in.”

“I don’t have anything in mind.”

“How about dude-liker? It sounds pretty matter-of-fact.”

“Yeah,” I say. It sucks how a word that’s supposed to mean happiness can somehow feel warped.

“It’s your call, dude-liker. So no one knows?”

“Just us,” I say. “Not even Gen. I’m going to figure out how to handle that when I understand what’s going on with me. Maybe it happens like this for all dude-likers, where one day you’re a girl-liker and the next day you’re not. I guess maybe I could be a girl-slash-dude-liker, but I don’t know.”

Thomas readjusts himself, coming a little toward me or maybe just leaned my way for a second. “So what do you think changed everything?”

You did, I want to say but don’t. It’s quiet. This silence makes me uncomfortable, like I’ll never be comfortable again. If I play my cards wrong, I’ll not only lose my privacy, but maybe rob myself of my happiness, too. “I’ve been thinking about my happy ending even more than usual, probably because you’re trying to engineer yours right now. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy until I figure out who I am and it comes down to me not being a hundred percent happy with the life I have.”

“Do you mind being a dude-liker?”

“I don’t know yet. Obviously I’m scared for my throat being a dude-liker around here, but I’m not exactly rushing to tell everyone tomorrow. I also don’t think I’ll be campaigning anytime soon with other dude-liker-friendly organizations. I mean, if they can create a future where I can get married to another dude without it seeming like a big deal, then good on them. I’ll remember to send a fruit basket or something.”

Thomas laughs and I know this is it, this is when he confesses that he’s been pranking me and dropping signs he likes guys too just to get me to say it. “F-fruit b-b-basket. Pun intended?”

“You’re an asshole and I hate you.”

He’s rocking back and forth and when his laugh finally winds down—though I wouldn’t have minded watching him for a few more seconds—he says, “So what’s next? Are you on the hunt for a guy in your happy ending?”

“I have zero clue.”

Thomas inches toward me, for sure this time, and folds his hands in his lap. “Well, this all kind of reminds me of that blackout a few years ago. Remember? I was outside when it happened and it was so dark out I could barely see my own hand, let alone what was up the street. But I kept going forward, step by step, until I reached a familiar corner. Sometimes you just have to push ahead to find what you’re looking for.”

“Do you still have the fortune cookie you ripped that off of?”

“Nah, had to get rid of the evidence.”