Page 132 of You're so Bad

Aloser.

“I think it’s time for you to leave. Tell the kid…”

I trail off, because I don’t know what I want her to tell the kid. Or Constance.

“And Bean?” she asks. “Are you bailing on her too?”

“She’s comfortable there,” I say woodenly.

“This is what you want?” Tears are still falling down her cheeks, and I want to wipe them away, to kiss her, to lose myself in her.

“Yes,” I lie.

SheknowsI’m lying. It’s there on her face. “I can’t decide for you.” Her voice is brave and clear. I’m proud of her, and I adore her. Oh God, how I fucking adore her. “But I love you, Leonard Smith. And I love Raymond Danvers too. But you need to figure out how to love yourself. Both of you.”

And with that, she walks out and leaves me with that impossible ache.

I don’t know how long I’m alone, draining the bottle of whiskey I’d tucked into the kitchen for a special occasion, but after a while the front door opens. Because I didn’t trouble myself to lock it. Burke comes in, followed by Shane and then Danny.

I wave the empty bottle at them. “Are you really here, or am I drunker than I thought?”

“We’re here,” Burke says as Danny shut the door. “Drew made me promise to FaceTime him so he can be here too.”

“I don’t feel so good,” I say, because it’s the only way I can think to describe what it feels like inside of me.

“I know, buddy.” He hugs me and has the decency not to pull back even though I’ve got to smell like the bottom of a bottle.

“First thing’s first,” Danny says. “We’ve got to get him out of that suit.”

“It’s an assault on the eyes and on common decency,” Shane agrees.

It’s funny, and he’s goddamn right, but somehow that’s what gets me sobbing. I instantly feel like an idiot, a loser. In my head, my father tells me that real men don’t cry. That tears are only for babies who can’t hack it.

I’m a baby who can’t hack it.

“I’ve fucked everything up,” I say.

“So let’s see what we can unfuck,” Burke tells me.

“But what if it’s my head that’s the problem?”

“Like I said,” he tells me, “there’s something we can do about that.”

ChapterThirty-Four

Shauna

Text conversation with Grandpa Fruckface:

It’s been forty-six days since you responded to my last message.

You’re right. In punishing you for being an asshole, I’ve become the asshole. That’s irony for the ages, huh?

Do you want to go to a wedding with me on Saturday?

Do I have to wear a suit?

Why don’t you wear a swimsuit? I hear you’re partial to those.

---