Adam Silvera - More Happy Than Not

“Sometimes your story is worth reading about because your life sucks,” I say. “And I don’t think your life sucks.”

“Sure it does. I don’t know what I want to do when I’m older. You’re my only real friend. My mother is always working and never has time for me, and my father might be dead for all I know.” Thomas immediately looks up at me, horrified. “I’m sorry. That was such a dickhead thing to say.”

I want to tell him that it’s okay, that it’s not like my father killed himself because of me, but that will only sound like his father left because of him. So I say nothing. It’s quiet except for the wind. I throw a rock back onto the ground. “I think it’s okay for you to be confused by things right now, Thomas. We’re young and figuring shit out, but our lives don’t completely suck. Take it from the kid whose bedroom is the living room.”

“I just want the future figured out, you know?” He grins. “Maybe we should invite your girlfriend up here with her tarot cards to lay it all out for us.”

“I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be dating,” I say, looking down.

“Why’s that?” Thomas asks, and I can see from the corner of my eyes that he’s lowered his head too.

“Things aren’t what they once were. And I think I’m going to take a page out of your book and put some distance between me and her.” I’m tugging at my sleeve now, something I used to do as a kid whenever I got really nervous. “I love her, and I want to know her forever, but we don’t fit.”

“I get that.”

I’m staring very hard at my hands now. “I feel weird talking like this. Do guys do this kind of thing? Hang out and talk about love?”

“You ask that like you haven’t been a guy your entire life. Some dudes make their mind a prison. I like living outside of bars. If we’re different, that’s fine with me.”

He’s right. I will dare to be different. I will prove to everyone that the world won’t turn to ash or spin out of control or be swallowed alive by a black hole. But someone has to man up first to get this ball rolling.

“There’s something I want to tell you but it has to stay between us,” I say. The words almost sound like they’re being spoken by someone else. “And you can’t go running away.”

“Please tell me you have a superpower, like you’re actually a descendant from aliens or something. I’ve always wanted to be the best friend in a superhero movie who keeps the superhero’s secret,” Thomas says. “Sorry, too many movies. Of course you can trust me, Stretch.”

“There’s two sides to this and I’m not sure I’m ready to tell you both yet. But I want to soon.”

“Okay. So tell me Side A now. Or whenever you’re ready.”

I look down again and massage my temples, my head ready to explode from what I’m about to admit. “Look, you’re my best friend and everything, but if what I’m about to tell you is too much for you, it’s fine and—”

“Shut up and talk to me,” Thomas interrupts.

“That’s kind of a mixed signal.” He stares at me with shut-up-and-talk eyes. “Okay. No wasting time. I’m going to come out and say it. I think I might… maybe… kind of… sort of… possibly… be…”

“… Is this fill-in-the-blank?”

“No, no. I can say it. Let me say it. I’m going to say it. I think I might… kind of… sort of… possibly, no, definitely…” I can’t spit the last word out, the unknown of everything that will come after choking me.

“Maybe it would actually help you if I guessed. Should we try that?”

“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?”