Adam Silvera - More Happy Than Not

So, I have another maybe to wait around for. Maybe Collin will stick around or find me again later in life. Maybe Thomas will come out for me. Maybe I’ll get another do over from Leteo. Of all the maybes, Collin’s making me happy is the safest bet.

We return to the track field the next day, but this time we sit on the bleachers to reread The Dark Alternates before the last issue drops this week.

Collin flips through Issue #5, the happiest I’ve seen him since I told him my mom was cool with me being gay. All his money goes to Nicole and the kid so he’s only been able to read each issue at the store and always in a rush because of customer demand. His smile fades when he reaches page twenty-four, where Thor is beaten bloody by his Dark Alternate and left for dead in a pub.

“The day we got jumped,” Collin says. “I was so fucking scared for our lives. I really thought that was it.”

“That’s how I felt when my friends ganged up on me,” I say.

“Why did they do it?”

I ask myself this every fucking hour. Hate, ignorance, feeling betrayed — I don’t know, but they turned against me and there’s no taking it back or forgetting. But I answer honestly: “They didn’t like my friendship with Thomas, that guy you saw me with at Comic Book Asylum. They had the wrong idea about us.”

“Did anything ever happen between you two?”

I won’t tell him we kissed. “He’s straight,” I say. That’s what Thomas claims, and I roll with it to protect him. If my instincts are right and he does come out to me, I don’t want to have betrayed his trust. He never betrayed mine.

“That sucks,” Collin says. “Everything happens for a reason, right?”

Collin is the reason. Full circle.

After missing him yesterday — Collin had a doctor’s appointment with Nicole before work — we didn’t get to hang. Now we’re back at the track field for the third time. We get ready to run a lap when I see Thomas on the bleachers eating Chinese food. With Genevieve. It’s like a sucker punch. I can’t breathe. I have never been so hurt seeing someone else so happy.

She cracks open a fortune cookie. I hope it reads: you’re just asking for heartbreak again.

Thomas brought Genevieve here, one of the more public places where he thinks, and I hate the idea that he is sharing his thoughts with her. Maybe he’s even taken her up to his roof to watch movies, shirtless. If it has gone that far, I don’t have it in my soul to be happy for them, especially when he’s bullshitting her and she’s bullshitting herself again.

I take off, hoping to get the fuck out of here before I can be seen, but then Collin calls my name and both Thomas and Genevieve look around and find me. Thomas doesn’t take his eyes off me, but Genevieve’s eyes dart back and forth. Her face falls when she sees Collin.

I jet out of there even faster and don’t stop until the corner of the next block.

Collin catches up to me. I’m heaving and spitting over a trash can, pressing a hand against my aching rib cage.

“You okay? Your face is mad red.”

I cover my mouth so he doesn’t have to watch me try and throw up.

“I saw Genevieve back there with your boy Thomas. She’s not going to tell Nicole she saw me, right?”

“I don’t think they even talk anymore,” I manage. He’ll be lucky if Genevieve doesn’t take on a Dark Alternate herself and rat him out. “I think I should go home and rest. See you later this week?”

“You still like Thomas, don’t you?”

I don’t want to lie to him, but the truth might cost me him.

Collin shrugs. “It sucks, but it’s for the best. I’ll see you later this week, Aaron.”

He walks away. I watch him. I really wish people would just start punching me in the face again. At least a punch in the face would make me feel worthy of being hit. All this — Thomas and Genevieve laughing without me, Collin not giving enough of a fuck about me — makes it clear that no one would have any problem forgetting that I existed.

Maybe that’s the only way Leteo can work. For the forgettable. No one wants to be forgettable. But I’ll take that risk.

I try not to be home when Eric is around. Out of all my relationships since being unwound, ours is the only one that hasn’t changed. Even remembering all the times he teased me doesn’t shift anything; we’ve always given each other shit, after all. But I’m kind of, sort of, definitely awkward around him because even though he knows, I never actually came out to him. Still, the apartment is small, and the arguments with Mom to approve me for another procedure are loud and daily.

I get to Good Food’s early to dodge Eric before he wakes up.

Mohad has been really cool about me missing work. But on Tuesday I asked him to give me some extra shifts because I needed to get out of the house. My mom only agreed to it because Mohad banned Brendan, Skinny-Dave, and Nolan from the store. He even told me I could call the cops if they showed up while he stepped out.

More than anything else, I thank Mohad for not firing me yesterday when I completely zoned out during a customer transaction. I gave this guy change for a fifty twice. That asshole naturally took the cash and bounced, but Mohad could see on the cameras that I didn’t pocket it — just got really distracted, I guess.

I spend the afternoon doing the same bullshit: cashiering, taking inventory, cutting conversations short about why my friends jumped me, sweeping, more cashiering, cutting more conversations short. It’s nearing the end of my shift when Mohad asks me to mop the beverage aisle. I prop up the caution: wet floor sign, dip the mop in the bucket, and almost freak out when Thomas and Genevieve appear. They slowly approach me.

His head is low, like when he couldn’t face me at Leteo.

Her head is high, like she’s won a prize I could never have.

My head is spinning, like I’m drunk on worthlessness.

“Hi, Aaron,” Genevieve says. “Do you have a chance to talk to us after work?”

“You can talk to me here.” I start mopping, but then Thomas’s cologne hits me and I retreat back to my corner.

Genevieve peeks into the next aisle and says, “Your mother told us about Leteo. Why would you do this again to yourself and everyone who loves you?”

“You’ll never get it.”

It’s impossible to explain the emotions cycling through me to someone who never forgot her life, later remembered it, and now has all these memories bleeding into each other. Every day feels more like chaos, like I’m never going to get my life straight — no pun intended — like starting over again is better than game over. Surely there’s some Leteo support group for those whose buried memories have been unwound. On the other hand, I don’t need any more sadness in my life listening to other people’s tragedies.

“Aaron, it’s you who’s not getting it,” she says. “Leteo fixes some things, yes, but it ruins everything else. I’ve been with you every step of the way, as much as I could, and pieced together everything else myself. This is not the happiness you want.”

I throw the mop onto the floor. The clattering makes Gen flinch.

“I can’t have the happiness that I want. On top of everything else, why should I have to carry around that weight too?” What I feel for Thomas is the loudest thing I’ve ever had ringing through me. I can be me again — or some form of me — when that ringing shuts up.

Thomas steps toward me. “I’m trying to make sense of this, Stretch. This guy, Collin… The one we saw at Comic Book Asylum and at the track field. You forgot him, but still knew him?”