Page 105 of Revive Me

“Maybe,” Mikey says. And my gratitude for him grows that he doesn’t simply wave me off as being dramatic the way I have been in the past by doctors and therapists. “But people can have more than one thing that fulfills them. Family, hobbies, careers. You keep thinking of fighting as the only thing that could ever be your reason for living, and it’s keeping you from moving on, man. You’re stuck in this limbo that you don’t need to be in.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” I demand, my frustration peaking. “If I don’t have fighting”—and I don’t have Lily,I add silently—“then how do I figure out what fulfills me? I’m almost thirty. I feel ridiculous even asking that question out loud.”

Mikey shrugs. “Same way a twenty-year-old figures it out. Just think of it as a midlife crisis.”

I blow out an exasperated breath. “So, what, buy a sports car and start dating models?”

“Well, you can’t drive, and you’ve already done the second one, so both of those are out.”

I glare at my supposed best friend. “You’re terrible at this.”

“Hey, this is why people pay professionals to be their therapists,” he says with a shrug. “It’s not my fault you’ve been too stubborn to ask. Now you’re stuck with my amateur version of therapy.”

My sigh is tired. He’s right, but one step at a time.

Then something occurs to me, and I ask curiously, “How did you decide you wanted to be an accountant?”

“Same way a lot of people find their career path. I was in college and liked my math classes the most.”

Instantly, my thoughts flash back to Lily’s comments about school, about being good at history and the career options that talent might come with.Should I go back to school?CouldI go back to school?

“Look,” Mikey continues, “All I’m saying is you have more options than you think you do. And you don’t have to do anything today, but whatever you eventually decide on, you have to justdoit. You can’t keep sitting around here; you’re going to go crazy.”

Dropping my head back against the couch, I let out a heavy, tired exhale, a million thoughts spiraling around my head. But then I notice Mikey looks a little pleased with himself, and I lift my head as my eyes narrow in suspicion.

“So, how long have you been waiting to say all that?”

As if he really has been holding everything back, a breath whooshes from his chest. “You have no idea. I wanted to throw it in your face every time you started your woe-is-me bullshit.”

I let out a bark of laughter, shaking my head. I can’t even really blame him for it. “Then why the fuck did you hang around?”

He shrugs. “Because you’re my friend. And you helped me get through my family shit in middle school, even if you never realized it. I figured you needed someone to just beyourfriend.”

My chest squeezes at his admission, and the easy way he says it. No feelings, just easy truth. And I think about how I have no reason to doubt him, how everything he’s said, everything he’s done for me this past year has proven that he wants nothing from me. How I’ve always felt like he just wanted to bring back the same friendship that two middle schoolers had almost two decades ago.

And then I think about howthat, that easy friendship, kept me sane a lot of days. How he made me feel normal, made me feel wanted, how he kept me busy.

And I become overwhelmed with gratitude.

I clear my throat, trying to get rid of the tightness in it. I want to tell him I appreciate him, that he probably saved me more than once, but it’s also Mikey—he’d probably just get uncomfortable and run from my house.

So instead, I toss him the controller in my hand, the one I know he loves because of how smooth the buttons feel. And then I grab the shitty one from his hand.

We don’t exchange any words. I know he knows what I’m doing because of the way his eyes go wide, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just grins and settles deeper into the couch cushions.

“Don’t think I won’t still kick your ass,” I taunt. “A shitty controller won’t save you.”

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Let’s revisit this conversation in twenty minutes when you realize a controller was theonlything giving you those W’s.”

35

ROMAN

I don’t waste any time getting myshit together. I’ve wasted enough as it is.

The next morning, after I’ve kicked Mikey out of my house and sent him off to work like a 1950s housewife, I set up my computer at my dining room table and start in on my to-do list.

Number one: register for college.

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