Page 14 of The Player Penalty
I put my hair back in their braids. “Finishing. I’m full of ideas and enjoy trying new things.” Unless they scare me. “Then, I don’t.”
“You get bored?”
“I can’t finish. It doesn’t matter whether I want to do it; my brain doesn’t let me. That’s what happened with the museum effort. It started perfectly, and then I couldn’t.”
Why am I pouring my heart out to Julian Murphy? Most people tell me to try harder or focus harder. It’s excruciating because I keep explaining that it doesn’t work like that, so I get the same advice again, only louder. After a little while, the frustration comes, and I beg them to believe me. I’m not lazy. It’s not that I don’t care.
“That’s rough,” he says. “Do you want a break for some milkshakes?”
“I guess?”
“Good. We can drink them at a nearby park. Grab your sweater.”
∞∞∞
Julian takes a sip of my milkshake. “How can you drink that? It tastes disgusting.”
“It’s my favorite flavor.” Cookies and cream is the perfect milkshake flavor. “Also, so is yours.” I stick my tongue out, pretending to gag.
“It’s a green smoothie. It’s full of B vitamins and shit.”
“If that’s true, you should throw it away.”
Julian climbs on the picnic table and lays across it like he’s presenting himself for a meal. It’s a striking image. He’s a man who displays no concern for anything, while I worry about everything.
“Come here.” He crooks his finger until I lean in close. “I’m not close to my family. It’s not because of my travel schedule or anything like that. We’ve been no-contact for three years. I call my dad sometimes since he keeps the same cell phone number. He’s received over a dozen voicemail messages telling him how I am and asking him to call me back. There’s no way to know if he listens or deletes them. I even sent them a Christmas card last year.”
“What happened?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“It was returned in the mail, unopened. There’s no point in sending one this year, is there?”
“Only if you never want the situation to change or decide the relationship should stay this way.”
Julian draws back at my response before standing on the table to look down at me. I look up, but the sun is at his back, momentarily blinding me. He jumps off and sits beside me, close, with no part of our bodies touching.
“That question has gnawed at me all year.” Julian picks up one of my braids and runs a finger across the end before dropping it. “Thank you for telling me what you did earlier.”
“Is that why you told me? A secret for a secret.”
“Why did you tell me?” he asks.
“I felt comfortable enough to share.”
“Well, there you go. I felt comfortable enough to share with you.” Julian pauses, emphasizing the final two words. “What else do you struggle with?”
“It won’t make sense to you.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Our eyes meet, and I inspect him for any sign of pity. That’s difficult enough, but realizing you annoy people you considered friends is worse. Julian is almost a friend now. “It’s difficult to move from task to task. Some people wake up and get ready for their day like it’s nothing. I have to go through a task list in my head. Time is hard, too. It passes, and I don’t understand how.”
“What do you mean?”
Discomfort scratches me, and I know this conversation will stay in my head all night, at least until I puzzle out all the wrong things I said. “I’ll start a shower and go get a clean towel. Then, I’ll remember the shampoo bottle is almost empty, so I’ll get that, too. It was only a minute, or it felt that way, but the hot water was gone, and I can’t figure out how it happened.”
“Is that all?”
Not even close. He doesn’t need to hear that I worry about getting a job, especially after losing that internship, or that I left school for a while. He thought I was weird once, and the whole story would frighten him away. It’s also not entertaining and would make me seem childish. Julian already thinks that of me.
