Page 83 of His Sound
I trail off when I realize I don’t have an answer to that. I’ve always accepted it as part of the way things are: the sun rises, the world turns, and I don’t tell people I have ADHD.
“Remember what we told Ace when he started seeing a counsellor for all his drinking and shit?” Matt asks. I don’t answer out loud, but I remember the words before Matt speaks them for me. “No shame. I’m not saying you have to share it with everyone, but if you feel like it’s hurting your relationships tonottell people, maybe it’s worth breaking the silence. No one who cares about you is going to judge you, man. We didn’t judge Ace, and we won’t judge you.”
“It’s different,” I protest. “Ace was fucked up because of his past. He was fucked up because of what people did to him. He had a chance to fix himself. I just...never worked right from the start. I’mdéfectueux. No sense in making a big deal out of it. You have to live with what you’ve got. I should have remembered that before I got involved with Molly.”
“So you walked out on her,” Matt summarizes.
“I mean, technically she’s the one who left the room...” I notice him glaring at me. “Okay, yeah. I walked out on her. I backed down. It was for her own good, though.”
“You’re really gonna play the martyr?” Matt groans. “She was crazy about you, JP. Everyone saw it. If you were scared she’d leave you once she found out, you—”
“It wasn’t that,” I interrupt. “I mean, yes, itwasthat, but it was also...Like, I just kept thinking, what if one day I wake up and I can’t focus on her anymore? What if I go allpoisson rougeand start looking for the next new thing to keep me busy? What if I hurt her because my stupid brain decides it needs a distraction from the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole fucking life?”
I don’t realize how worked up I am until I’m slamming my fist down on the couch cushion. My breath comes out in heavy bursts. Matt sits there, tapping his foot against the floor to fill the silence.
“The best thing that’s ever happened to you,” he eventually repeats. “You really think you would have just woken up and forgotten all about that one day?”
“No,” I huff, deciding to be honest. “I don’tactuallythink I would have done that, but I could have, and...and it’s just better this way, okay?”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “If you say so. At the end of the day, it’s your life, man. You do what you’ve gotta do.”
He gets up and moves into the kitchen, where I hear him digging around in the fridge. I stay on the couch, rollingmon trucagainst my leg. My skin feels like an itchy sweater that’s three sizes too small. I’m so agitated I want to crawl outside my own body.
Matt starts humming to himself. I jump up and point a finger at him.
“I know what you’re doing!” I accuse. “You’re pulling some reverse psychology bullshit or something, telling me I can do what I want, when really you’re just hoping I change my mind.”
He pauses with a loaf of bread in his hand. “Is that so?”
“Ouais, it is so,” I fume, “and it isn’t going to work. I did the right thing, even if it feels shitty. I did what I had to do.”
He slaps two slices of bread down on the counter and starts spreading them with peanut butter. “Okay.”
“Mon dieu. You’re still fucking doing it.”
“I’m not doing anything, but the fact that you’re reading into the conversation like this is probably a sign that—”
I let out a growl that leaves him laughing.
“Jesus, okay. I’ll let it go before you smash anything else in this apartment.”
I sit back down on the couch and drop my head into my hands. “I need to forget about her, Matt. She’s all I can think of. I already bought her fucking Christmas present and everything. I haven’t even known her that long, and she’s...everywhere in my life.”
He leans against the counter and starts stuffing his face with his sandwich. It’s sacrilege to waste bread with peanut butter when there’s perfectly good ham in the house, but I decide to let it slide. More for me.
“What did you get her?” he asks around a mouthful.
“Spray paint.”
He gives me a look.
“She likes street art,” I explain. “She knows stuff about every fucking mural in the city. It’s amazing. She does graffiti style stuff on the computer, but she’s never actually tried it on a wall before. I had this underpass picked out. I was going to take her there, surprise her with the spray paint...”
Matt’s staring at me like I’m the dumbest motherfucker he’s ever met.
“Remind me again why leaving her was the right decision?”
“You said you’d let it go,” I warn.
