Page 93 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

My laugh is unexpected. It bubbles up my chest and out my nose, resulting in a large snort. Which makes Georgia start laughing too, loud and easy, until we’re both have tears falling down our faces, but the good kind. And when she launches into another chorus of “Teardrops on My Guitar,” I sing along this time.

Reggie

My parents know something is wrong, but outside of some lacklusterTell us if you want to talk about its, they don’t push it. That’s just not their way.

But Eric isn’t handled so easily—not because he cares, I don’t think, but because he’s nosy.

It starts with him storming into my room and pulling up the blinds. “Bro, open the windows in here or something. You looking like those people in those commercials before they start taking Zelemenica or Fromaxilexin or some other happy pill.”

When that doesn’t get his desired results, he tries standing at the door a couple days later, waving his hand in front of his nose. “I don’t know what’s going on with you man, but you gotta, like, shower. It isrankup in here!”

Finally, after almost a whole week has gone by, he strides in one evening after school, pulls my desk chair forward, and leans over the back with his hands under his chin, like a hip white teachertrying to connect to the youth by saying rap is poetry.

“Yo, just tell me what happened with your girl. Delilah. Did she dump you?”

I stare at the ceiling, saying the words I haven’t said out loud to anyone yet, not even Yobani. “She’s not talking to me, and I don’t know if she ever will again.”

I tried texting my apologies, and I even called a couple times—I’m that desperate. But she texted backPlease stop, Reggie.And as much as I don’t want to, I have to respect that.

“So y’all broke up then. What did youdo?” Eric asks, eyes bugging.

I should tell him to leave my room again, but maybe it might feel good, like penance, to be mercilessly roasted for how I screwed things up with Delilah. Though, I already feel the lowest of the low, so I don’t think there evenisanything Eric can say to me now to make it worse.

I tell him everything that happened this year, starting with that first night and then detailing all my attempts after to be New Reggie till he totally blew up my spot on Thanksgiving by being such a dick. That’s what I actually call him, a dick, and he doesn’t even flinch or diss me back. I must look really pitiful if he showed restraint there.

“She’s so mad. She doesn’t even want to talk to me,” I finish. “And she has a right to be mad. I was being so fake.”

Eric scrunches his nose. “But I don’t get it. You weren’t being fake.” He says it as if it’s some inarguable fact. Like, the ocean is blue. Or version 3.5 is the best edition of Dungeons & Dragons.

I study him, trying to figure out how he’s making fun of me. But his face looks weirdly sincere.

“I’m being legit right now. You weren’t being fake. I mean, not gonna lie, referring to yourself as New Reggieisa little troubling, so I can see if she ditched you for that. You can’t be doing that, man!” He laughs, but then stops when I don’t join in. “Okay, not funny. I get it. But yeah... seems like she knew a lot about you. The important stuff, at least. You were being real about that.”

I stare at him some more, searching for the joke, but it doesn’t seem to be there. So, either Eric started taking an acting class at CSULB this semester, or he’s... being kind?

I decide to just go with it and accept whatever consequences come from it later.

“Is that a cop-out though?” I ask, pushing down all the instincts inside of me that are screamingDanger! Turn back now!“I tried to tell her that, or something like that, when I was pleading my case. And she didn’t want to hear it.”

“Well, you still did her wrong. You lied. And that’s like rule number one with girls: don’t lie.” He leans forward on two chair legs. “Now, you apologized, right?”

I roll my eyes, irritated. “Of course.”

“Good, then you just need to let her be in her feelings about it. It’s up to her whether or not she wants to forgive you. And, yo,don’ttell her to calm down. Trust me, I learned that the hard way.”

“Uh, thanks,” I say, standing up from my bed, trying to signal that this is the end of our brotherly bonding moment. It was decent, and even maybe a little insightful? But I know there’s only so much restraint Eric can show. “Okay, well, I’m gonna—”

He cuts me off. “But I mean, yeah, you don’t gotta keep being all Drake about it. You fucked up. It happens. It’s ’cause you’re still in, like, the identity versus confusion stage—I learned that in my Psych 100 class and, hey, I totally destroyed Lenore onthatmidterm. She left that part out!” He pumps his fist, but then realizes that might not be the most appropriate move right now and settles down. “Anyway, you’ll get there to being real all the time.” He clears his throat and looks at me almost... sheepish? Like he can actually hear how ridiculous that sounds, considering he makes fun of me more than anyone. “And it would probably be easier, huh? If you didn’t have a brother criticizing every glimpse of that real you was trying to show?”

That makes me sit back down. Am I dreaming? Is he a hologram?

“But I mean... it was, like, our thing, right?” he asks with a smile.

I blink at him. “When did I agree for it to be our thing?”

“It’s just, you know, how brothers are.”

“Brothers? Orbrother—singular? Because I never, like, questioned your entire identity. Or took shots at you in front of my friends.”

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