Page 79 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
“I’m fine, I swearrrr.... ,” he says slowly. “Party’s not over till I sayyy soooo....”
“You just emptied your guts on a hot college guy. The party is over.” I laugh and try to help him up, but he doesn’t budge. “Come on, we need to get you home.”
Jamal looks up at me with a pouty lip. “But I’m hungry.”
I laugh again. “Okay, we’ll get you some food, then get you home.”
At that, he lights up with a huge grin and finally lets me help him to his feet. I try putting his arm around my shoulder again, but he just stumble runs toward his truck. I race after him, surprised by how fast his drunken steps are. We make it to his truck at the same time, and he hands me his keys. I open the passenger door for him and help him climb inside before going around to the driver’s side and taking the wheel. Jamal leans the seat all the way back so he’s practically lying down in the car.
“Does Sasha make you happy?” I ask. Not out of jealousy this time, but because if Jamal tells me he’s happy, it’ll all be worth it.
“What?” is all he says in response.
“Sasha, the guy you were making out with? Are you guys together now?”
“Oh...” Jamal frowns. “No, we’ve been hooking up. He probably blocked my number now, though. Too much baggage, and also puke.”
I can’t help but feel like I’m responsible for at least a good chunk of said baggage. Instead of delving deeper into the issue, though, I change the subject.
“Taco Bell or Jack in the Box?” I ask, since those are the two main late-night drunk eateries I know of.
“Jack in my crack,” Jamal mumbles, smiling to himself like he’s never said anything funnier. I spit out an unexpected laugh. He must really not realize who he’s talking to if he’s making that kind of joke.
“All right, what do you want?” I ask as we pull up to the drive-through.
“A hundred tacos,” he says, dead serious.
“You are not eating a hundred tacos.” I laugh again.
“You’re no fun. Fifty tacos.”
“I’ll get twenty,” I compromise, knowing if I suggest anything less, he’ll never let us leave the drive-through. Besides, with tax, my newly acquired condom treasure is barely enough to cover twenty.
“Fine.”
Jamal hums his eagerness when I pass him the giant bag of tacos. He eats them without unreclining his seat on the drive to his house.
“Question,” he says thoughtfully.
“Yeah?” I ask, trying to ignore the aching in my heart at how normal this feels. He takes awhile to ask his question, so I figure it must be extra ridiculous. I turn to look at him after another few moments of silence, only to see him fully asleep with a half-eaten taco on his chest.
I don’t know why, but it makes me want to cry. What if that was the last chance I had at hearing one of his random questions?
I pull up to his cousin’s driveway and look at the sleeping boy next to me, letting a small smile tug at my lips despite everything.The truck rumbles to a stop, and I quietly get out and go around to Jamal’s side and unbuckle him. I pull out the keys, then scoop one hand under his knees and the other under his back.
I’ve carried Jamal before, but he’s a little taller now than when we were dating, so he’s a bit heavier than he was then. Still, I manage to get him out of the car and slowly stalk over to his house, where I somehow manage to get the door unlocked and open without letting him fall. I carry him into his room as quietly as possible before laying him gently down on the bed, pulling the blanket over him.
“Mmmmlove you,” he mumbles, eyes still closed.
My heart breaks.
“I love you too,” I whisper only after he starts snoring again.
The only comfort I have is that he’ll forget all of this in the morning. I wish he could just forget that he loved me altogether.
28
When Your Meds Are Definitely Being Used to Brainwash You
