Chapter 1: (ONE) I Wanna Be Okay

15:30 15 Oct 2022

I knew there was probably something better I could be doing with my life.

No, that’s not true.

I knew there was something better. I just didn’t know how to get there, or where to go.

I knew the video rental store I worked at didn’t have much job security – frankly, it was impressive it was still open, given the rise of streaming services and a pandemic. But it wasn’t as if I had that many prospects, after dropping out of college; and there was another thing, I wasn’t even sure why I’d dropped out. Everything was just too much, too much effort to put into things when I didn’t really enjoy anything. Something had been eating me up from inside for a long time, and I worried someday it would xenomorph its way out of me and leave me bleeding out in my shitty apartment.

But until then, I still had to go to work.

I heaved myself out of bed and threw on a t-shirt and jeans, then glanced at the clock. Three-thirty PM; I had an hour or so before I had to leave. Time enough for breakfast.

I headed into the kitchen, aka the living room, aka the second room of my tiny two-rooms-and-a-bathroom, avocado-shag-carpet apartment. I flicked on the kettle and dug through one of my cupboards.

Ah, here we go. Cup ramen. The breakfast of champions.

I poured the water in, stared out the window at passing cars for the requisite three minutes, and then started eating. I checked my phone while I ate, just to make sure I had the time right, and lost my appetite.

Shit.

It was the fifteenth of October, thirteen years to the day since the worst decision of my life.

Sometimes I thought about checking her Facebook profile. To torture myself, mostly. I knew I’d been an asshole, but by the time I’d learned better…

Well, really it was probably for the best she’d cut contact before then. I might have tried to be friends again, and I wasn’t sure I deserved that.

Not that it was my fault I’d internalized my uncle’s bigotry; my parents hadn’t realized that until I told them what happened, and that had been ages after. At least I didn’t talk to my uncle any more either.

Fuck it all, why not. Lucky number thirteen.

I opened the app and found her profile pretty quickly. The first post was her with a pair of women at a bar, cheek to cheek, all grinning. She had dyed her hair a shocking purple, and was toasting with a beer. The other two were showing off rings.

‘These two idiots just picked me as their Best Woman! Congrats, Lily and Harper!’

Yep, there was that heartwrenching guilt I felt every time I saw her happy. Because she was happy without me – probably happier than she would have been if we’d still been friends. It wasn’t like I hadn’t dragged down the rest of my friends, at least until they finally stopped talking to me, so why would she have been different?

I scrolled down further. Pictures of her at parties and vacations and music shows. She was in a fucking band! Of course she was in a band!

God, we’d almost started one in high school ourselves.

A string of photos of her at the past year’s pride parade, wearing a lesbian flag as a cape, out and proud. Past be damned, I was happy for her for that, so why did I still feel so shitty and weird about it?

Fuck, this was a bad idea.

I tapped out of the app, and almost swiped it off the screen. My thumb hovered over it for an agonizing minute. Then I opened it again.

Lucky number thirteen, I repeated to myself. What’s she gonna do, tell you off again? You already expected that. That’s the worst that could happen and she’s already done it.

I sent a message.

 

Jack: Hey… can we talk?

 

I closed the app and turned off my phone screen. The half a cup ramen left was cold. I dumped the broth, tossed the rest, and headed for the bathroom to run my fingers through my hair and pretend I’d showered. And, more importantly, shave, so I could at least glance at myself in the mirror.

I’d never been able to grow a beard – it wasn’t that I hadn’t tried, but when I had, I hated the sight of it, like someone was screaming in my head. And if I didn’t like it, nobody else would want to see it either, so it was shaved off in short order.

I made sure to get what I could and pay as little attention to the rest of my reflection as possible, limp hair and dark-circled eyes and all.

I pulled my hair into a low ponytail – cutting it short in high school had been one of the many bad decisions I’d made freshman year, and I was glad it was long enough again. With my hair loose, and my beanie and a shapeless zip-up hoodie, I looked sort of androgynous; I’d always liked that, I wasn’t sure why, but at the same time it made me feel vaguely guilty, like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to. I threw them on anyway and left the apartment for the half-hour walk to the video store.

###

00:04 16 Oct

At least we actually had customers today.

Not that I liked talking to people – I wasn’t one of those people that liked the sound of my own voice – but I did rather like getting paid. I finished closing up and pulled out my phone. I’d had music playing through an earbud all day – it helped me focus – but I wanted a different playlist for the walk home.

There was a Messenger notification.

And she was still online.

 

Bailey: It’s been thirteen years, Jack. What do we even have to talk about?

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Jack: I thought I’d start with ‘I’m sorry’.

Bailey: …seriously?

Jack: Yes, seriously!

Jack: Look, my uncle was a walking fucking Typhoid Mary of 4chan bigotry and I was a stupid kid who thought he was the coolest person alive just because he drove a fucking mustang

Jack: That’s NOT an excuse by the way.

Jack: What I said was my own damn fault, because I put my fucking asshole of an uncle over my best friend AND what my parents thought they’d taught me.

Jack: I’m sorry, I’ve BEEN sorry, and I’ve spent like a decade not bringing up the subject because I know you’re better off without me, but I still needed to say it. And I’m sorry it took me this long to mando up and come out with it.

 

The typing bubble popped up and disappeared a couple of times, so I started walking again. It finally dinged with a new message, and I stopped and sat down on a bench by a small fountain.

 

Bailey: Where is this coming from?

Bailey: You hurt me a lot, you get that, right?

Bailey: What do you want, Jack, to be friends again?

Jack: No! I mean, I’d love to, but that’s not why I messaged you

Jack: I just

Jack: I dunno, it needed to be said.

Bailey: …alright.

Bailey: Look, Jack.

Bailey: Maybe if we’d had this conversation back then things would be different.

Bailey: Apology accepted, but that’s all I’m promising.

Bailey: I’m really glad you’ve matured and owned up to your fuckup. I honestly, truly am.

Bailey: And I’m not saying we CAN’T try being friends again someday

Bailey: But it’s been thirteen years.

Bailey: We’re different people now.

 

I turned off the screen after that.

‘Matured’. ‘Different people’. Hah!

Everyone else grew up and turned into adults. I just got taller and more depressed. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t grown up since I was fourteen, besides getting different opinions. I was still the exact same person sans bigotry; I felt like a kid every time I was around grownups, even when they were technically younger than me. Yet another fucked up thing about me.

I shoved my phone in my pocket, and looked over to my right in the process.

The fountain was a weird bronzish cupid-looking thing, pouring water out of a jug into a basin carpeted with coins.

A wishing well, huh. Heh.

I wish it worked.

I dug through my pocket and pulled out a quarter, which was both the smallest denomination of change I possessed, and pretty much the extent of my fortune until payday. I held it out over the fountain, rubbing it between my thumb and index finger as I looked up at the sky, a few stars flickering despite the light pollution.

Something bright flashed – a shooting star.

And if that’s not a sign, what is?

I dropped the coin in as I watched the flash fade.

“I wish I could go back and fix whatever’s wrong with me,” I whispered.

Nothing happened, of course.

It’s all make-believe anyway.

I got up and headed toward home.

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