Page 243 of Wrath

She gives me a no-shit look. "Um, yeah. I might be. Is there someone? Are you on antidepressants?"

I laugh again. "So much skepticism! I am not on anti-Ds, although I would be if I needed to be. Pro-meds here." I flash a peace sign.

"That's a real smile." She pinches my cheeks, and then she's got her arm around my shoulders, and she's hanging from my neck like some kind of insane monkey.

"Jenna, Jenna... Perhaps the real inquiry that should be made is how are you?" I pat her back. "Starved for affection?"

"Shuddup, Josh. Don't play that shit with me." She lets go of my neck and peers up at me. “You scared me to death. I was so worried. And I've been worried. And now I'm not because you look so healthy. Like the old Josh. So I'm about to sit down on this couch, and you're going to tell me what happened to fix you. Every single detail." She sits, crossing her legs. "But for reals. Who is it?"

"Jenn, I started doing yoga, found a therapist, and got my teeth cleaned. Getting eight hours and two liters a day of water. There's no boy here." I grin, and she pats my couch's cushion.

"You are full of bullshit. Come sit here and tell me all the bullshit. Right now, cause I'm rolling out in forty minutes to be home in time for Mom’s parm casserole."

I beat around the bush a few more minutes, drumming up dramatic energy. When I tell Jenna, she literally screams. By the time she leaves my place a full fifty minutes later, she looks like she's been through all the phases of grief.

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. Like seriously ever.Jesus, Joshie. I won't tell. And be good to him. Y'all give each other so many hugs. And maybe bring him by for Christmas? We could...I don't know...like go for a walk. Something?"

I smile. "Something. Promise."

When she's gone, I lie on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, cataloguing everything I told her. It wasn't much. I told her Ezra’s mom's a piece of shit and forced him into inpatient—all because she can’t accept him being gay and views it as a mental issue. I told her they did electroconvulsive therapy and that he lost his memory, but that's all. And I feel bad even for that. But there was no way to tell Jenna—my most ride or die friend—that I was back with Ezra and have her understand unless she knew why he had ghosted me. Her wrath for him had been…significant.

Ez calls right after, and I can't keep a secret. I blurt out what I told Jenna, and to my relief, he's understanding.

"I get it. She's your best friend, that's what you said, right? I bet she was pissed as hell that I hurt you. Like any good friend."

"She's not now. And you're not upset?"

"Nah. It's gonna get out somehow. To at least the people that I knew from Fairplay."

"So...um...that reminds me. Christmas? You onboard for that shit?"

"Christmas?” He sounds surprised. “I don't know. You're going down there?"

"Yeah. I sort of wanted to. But not without you. Anyway, it doesn't matter right now. We'll discuss it later. First let's get you here and get you all sexed up and then eat birthday pizza and get birthday cupcakes."

"You're in luck..."

There's a knock on my door. I pull it open, and there's Ezra grinning, holding a pizza box.

I kiss his lips, and as he steps inside, I think:If I lost my memory, I hope this would make it through.

Overtime

One

Ezra

Josh reaches across the console, finding my leg and squeezing. "I love you, Ezra."

I put my hand over his, lacing my fingers through his warm ones. "I love you more, Josh Miller."

I can feel Mills struggling with whether he should say more. But he doesn't. We've got Ariana Grande'sthank u, nextalbum playing straight through—or rather, Miller does. He's the discographer, just like he's the driver on this wholesome journey over the river and through the woods.

He's also been the gas pumper, the run-into-the-gas-station-for-donuts-er, and the remind me to drink water-er since we left T-town.

It's Friday—December 21st—and I think Miller wanted to come down to Fairplay yesterday. Instead, he let me talk him into sticking around Tuscaloosa to seeThe Rise of Skywalker—something we ostensibly can't do down in Fairplay since the damn place doesn't have a theater. We could have driven down after themovie, but I suggested we get Thai food at this place I heard was good. Then I talked him into shower blow jobs. Whoops.

I fold his hand into mine, bringing our joined fingers up near my hip, so he doesn't have to stretch so far across the Jeep's console while trying to drive.

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