Page 120 of That Fake Feeling
“Isthis why you were such a dick?”Walkerasks. “Whyyou were at bars and clubs all the time?Whyyou never held down a relationship for longer than it took to knock back a shot?”Heblows out a horsey breath that ripples his lips. “Wasall that because you were so unhappy you didn’t know what to do with yourself?”
“Maybe.”Iconcentrate onMax’sexpensive carpet again. “That’swhatRosesaid.”
“JesusChrist,Con,”Walkersays on a long exhale.
Elliotleans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Yeah.That’sfucking tragic.”
“Itis,”Walkersays. “Youcan’t get those years back.”
Thisis unbelievable.Isthere not going to be a single word about howI’mletting them down and how upset our parents will be?
“Hangon.Areyou guys saying you don’t care ifIstep back and hire an executive to take my place?”
Theylook at each other in silence for a second, then talk at once.
“Ofcourse not.”
“Whywould we?”
“Fuck, no.”
Maxputs his arm around my shoulder and gives me a big brother side-hug. “I’mfucking proud of you, man.Ifelt like that whenImetPolly.Well, not thatIwanted to walk away from the company, but it did make me realize other things in life can be important too.”
“So, what are you going to do?”Elliotasks. “Justput your feet up and count your cash every day?”
Mybrain’s still reeling with the lack of opposition to the first part of my news.MaybeIshouldn’t push my luck with the second part. “You’llthinkI’velost my mind.”
“Youthought we’d think that two minutes ago,”Walkersays, getting up and joining me andMax. “Butwe didn’t.Tryus.”
Ilink my hands behind my head, elbows pointing out to the sides, and take the biggest breathI’vebeen able to take in an hour.Indays.Maybein years.
“Iwant to try to get into art school.Ialways wanted to go to art school.Inever wanted to start a business.Ijust want to draw and paint shit.”
ElliotandWalkerlaugh.Fora fraction of a second, a hot panic that they’re mocking the idea runs through me.Butit’s a good laugh.Likesomeone just told them something they didn’t realize they already knew.
“Thenof course, that’s what you should do.”Walkersays and pats me on the arm.
“Istill have a sketch you did ofBilly,”Elliotsays.
Billywas our family dog who passed away when we were in high school.
“Hell, yeah,I’dforgotten about that.Ihad to draw him while he was asleep because he was never still for more than two seconds.”
“Goodfor you,Con,”Maxsays. “Christ, do you have any idea how fucking guiltyIfeel that you’ve been trapped in this miserable life for years because of a pactIdreamed up whenIwas fifteen?”
“It’sokay,”Itell him. “AtleastIproved to you allIcould do it.Andto myself.AndI’vebeen able to contribute toMomandDadin equal measure with you guys.”
“Hell, yes, you’ve done it.”Elliotgets off the sofa and joins us. “BigBrainis fantastic.Whatcould be better than something that helps kids?”
Elliot’sstarting a nonprofit withOwen, ourCaliforniacousin and his partner in their software company.They’regoing to build tech centers for disadvantaged kids, to give them access to computers, tablets, phones, and other devices, so they don’t get left behind.
Walkergrabs me in a strong hug and slaps me on the back.
“You’regoing to be amazing.”There’sa slight break in his voice. “I’mso fucking proud of you for standing up for what you want.”
I’vebeen a fool for years, wasted my life for years, believingIwas doing the right thing by them.Andall this time they just wanted me to do whatever would make me happy.Evenif it’s not the same as what makes them happy.
Walkerlets me go.
