More Happy Than Not

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can forget about it. What I did and what I said. I can’t lose my favorite . . . I can’t lost my best friend.”

“Yeah. I can forget, Stretch.”

“I’m going to go home. Sleep off everything.”

“It’s raining.” He says it so matter-of-fact that his words loop through my head again as if they should’ve been obvious: I’m straight, you know. I’m straight, you know. I’m straight, you know . . . “Do you want an umbrella?”

“It’s just rain.”

He tells me something, but I can’t hear him over the echoes. He reaches out for my shoulder and pulls back. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I feel his eyes on me as I let myself out of his window, almost knocking his Buzz Lightyear toy off the ledge. I reach the bottom and turn around to see if he’s been following me. But he’s not there, not even looking out his window.

I’m alone.

Garbage tumbling by creates hurtling shadows underneath streetlamps. I stop at an almost even distance between my house and his, feeling like I belong nowhere now. I collapse onto the curb and just sit there under the expectation Thomas will come for me. And the reality is killer.

7

LATE NIGHT/

EARLY MORNING THOUGHTS

12:22 a.m.

The moon needs to get the fuck out of my face.

We don’t have blinds, of course, and I can never keep my back to the window because Eric’s side of the room is always glowing from late-night gaming. I sit up and see Brendan, Skinny-Dave, and Me-Crazy passing a cigarette around on the jungle gym. I fall back down so they don’t throw a handball at my window.

I reach for my sketchbook and see the black ink from the marker on my fingertips.

I can’t draw right now.

1:19 a.m.

I can’t even remember what I like about Thomas.

I latched on to the first person who always had a smile for me and who didn’t run away when I told him my secret. Everything I felt was an illusion, nothing more. He reminds me of when I turned fourteen and my family stopped caring about my birthday as much, when my friends made fun of me for wearing the same shirt two days in a row even though it wasn’t dirty.

His eyebrows are ungodly large, a couple of his teeth are crooked, and he’s mastered the art of lying so well he made me believe he doesn’t lie, when actually, the best liars are the ones who fool you by claiming they never li

e at all.

(2:45 a.m.)

I never forgot what I like about Thomas.

I’m the liar, not him. I lied to Genevieve, to my friends, to everyone. But I’ve pushed my limit and here’s the truth: this is the most painfully confusing time in my life and he’s the first person who said all the right words to me and reminds me of the first days of summer where you leave home without jacket, and my favorite songs playing over and over. And now he may never talk to me again.

(5:58 a.m.)

I remember this time last year, whenever I was in insomniac mode, I could put on my shoes and go visit my dad down the block at work. I remember this time two months ago, I could call Genevieve who would wake up to talk to me. I remember this time last week, I could go outside and talk about nothing with Brendan and the guys if they were still out. I remember this time yesterday, I could be sleeping over at Thomas’s house without it being weird.

I have lost all these people. I’m left with a brother who snores. I’m left with post-programming infomercials about acne medicine, suicide prevention lines, and animal charities. I get up to turn off the TV before reruns of old and unfunny comedies come on, but one final ad catches my attention.

Leteo. It promises forgetting and moving on.