Page 97 of Romance Languages

The guys traded looks like a jury conferring.

“Stop! Whatever telepathic thing you’re doing, just stop,” I said. It was weird watching my friends be friends with each other.

“Julian wanted to be with you despite what happened. Why did you throw that away?” Greg asked.

“Because I’m damaged goods!” I shouted, cutting through the din of the bar. We got some eyes on our table, people thinking a fight was about to break out for a hot minute. “I nearly bankrupted my ex-girlfriend. I fucked up so bad. I’m going to be paying off debt until the day I die. Why would Julian want to be with a guy who is sucking at life so hard?” Heat flamed on my cheeks, angry at myself as I replayed my greatest fuckup hits. “What if I fell down the gambling rabbit hole and guilted Julian into lending me money? What if things were worse next time? What if I break his heart and make him unable to trust other guys? Jules is a good person. He doesn’t deserve a guy with baggage. And so even though I would give my left nut to be with him, I don’t want to hurt him.”

I stormed from the table, weaving through tight clusters of happy bargoers blessed with normal lives until I reached the calm of inside. Down the stairs I went until I hit the exit. I kept walking until I hit the riverbank. A long dock stood along the edge with boats bobbing in the water, moonlight hitting their hulls. I took a seat on the smoothe slats of wood, letting my legs wobble above the water.

I’d worry about getting home later.

I shut my eyes and longed for the day when Julian would be fully out of my system, when my stomach wouldn’t crumble when I thought of him. In Gamblers Anonymous, we talked about how our addiction wasn’t us, only a part of us. I wondered how true that was. How many parts of myself were worth saving?

The dock creaked with footsteps. Hutch winced as he sat down beside me.

“Am I damaged goods?” he asked me.

“No. Of course not. You’re awesome.”

“I have a bum knee.” He extended his left leg, provoking another wince of pain. “I was the star of South Rock. I was drafted into Major League Soccer. My whole life, I’d been training for this path. Then my knee gave out, and it all went away.”

“I’m sorry, man.” I’d heard whispers and rumors about what brought Hutch back to South Rock last year.

He winced once more from something deeper than physical pain.

“So why do I deserve to be with Amos?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was supposed to be this big pro athlete. Now I’ll never play again. I’m just a gym teacher with a slight limp who was living at home, and Amos is this brilliant, thoughtful history teacher who owns his own place. Why the fuck do I deserve to be with him?”

Raleigh sat down on the other side of me, his legs spread wide and dangling over the water.

“I have a really fucked up family. My parents were always fighting and drinking before they died. My brother is a drug addict who’s in the wind. I haven’t heard from him in years since he stole from me. When people ask me about my family, I get this pit in my stomach before I give them my standard bullshit answer about how they’re a bunch of interesting characters, and I’m the best-looking one by a mile. Everett comes from a large, close family. His siblings are all super successful. They get together for holidays and send each other birthday cards. I’m hardcore damaged goods. Why should I date Everett and get him mixed up in my fucked-up family?”

Greg squatted behind me and gave my shoulders a supportive rub. “I’m married to a very ambitious and very successful man. I don’t have that same ambition. I gave up a lucrative path toward being a corporate lawyer to be a middle school special education teacher. I’ll never earn what my husband earns. When we go to his law firm’s parties, I see people’s faces when I tell them I’m a teacher. We’re not like the other couples at the firm. We’re not a power couple each making multiple six figures and living that glorious DINK lifestyle. Why should Ethan be with me when he can get some hotshot lawyer or doctor or hedge fund manager? How am I not bringing him down?”

We sat there in silence for a moment, listening to the water splashing against the echoey boats. A million thoughts and feelings swirled through my head. I had the greatest friends, and it hurt to hear them shit all over themselves.

“The truth is, everyone is damaged goods in some way,” Greg said.

“How do you think Julian feels?” Hutch said. “He’s a thirty-five-year-old virgin, something he was so embarrassed by that he asked a friend to pop his cherry. He probably thinks he’s damaged goods, too. He probably thought the same thing you did, that he didn’t deserve to be loved.” Hutch scooted back and let his left leg lie completely on the dock.

“But he does. He’s a wonderful guy,” I said.

“So are you!” Hutch gave me a shove.

“Yeah, so are you, dingus.” Greg slapped me in the back of the head, a classic move from our frat days. “So are all of us!”

“Nobody’s perfect. Including me,” Raleigh said. “Shocker, I know. Imperfect people deserve love, too. We’re all just trying our best out here. Someone loves you warts and all. I wouldn’t shrug that off.”

When I was with Julian, he made me forget about my fucked-up past. We existed in the present, full of life and opportunity. I had been trying to make him more confident in his body, and he’d wound up doing that for me.

“Shit.” I dragged my hands through my hair. “I fucked up.”

“Pretty much,” Raleigh said. He playfully kicked my leg, a sign of support. “But it’s not permanent. Fortunately, you’re able to learn from fuck-ups and fix them. That’s the beauty of not being perfect.”

“Thanks, guys. Shall we go back inside?” I stood up.

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