Page 94 of My Own Kind of Person

“Where were you?”

They cough. “You wanna go for a drive?”

Their truck has one long, plush bench seat. A garbled radio station plays loudly. I can’t figure out the right thing to say, and there must be so many wrong things, so I wait silently.

“Tell me something funny,” they say, barely loud enough to hear.

I shout over the music, “I spiraled into a depression when Elijah didn’t immediately understand I’m bi! In English we didn’t talk and I lost my mind and repeatedly banged my head on my desk!”

“Like, literally?”

I move my hair aside to show my forehead.

“Whoa!” They don’t swerve. “Are you okay?”

“I’m getting there.” I turn the music down. “But I’d like to hear more about what’s going on with you.”

They take a deep breath like they’re about to say something, but instead they accelerate. Dashed lines whir past.

“On the subject of the difficulty of talking about things…” I pull at my unibrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t message you back this afternoon.”

Oncoming headlights shine on their face. “It’s fine.”

“This application is obviously a big deal for you. I should have texted you to check in.”

“Please don’t ever text me to check in.”

“I’m also sorry about how last night I said I was working on my set and then I went out east with Elijah.”

“Why would you apologize for that? If you want to hang out with Elijah, you should. You can do whatever you want.”

I wince. “Sometimes I worry about how you are but I think you’d prefer I don’t say anything.”

“I appreciate that.”

“As though it would embarrass you to acknowledge you’re having emotions.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s kinder to leave you alone.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s not kind and it’s not honest. I should have replied right away this afternoon. And I should have asked how you were feeling about all of it.”

They shrug. “I just figured you were being a guy.”

“But I don’t want to be that way.”

“But that’s why I like being friends with guys.”

My stomach twists. “I thought gender was a fiction.”

They groan.

The road narrows and we drive past little buildings with neatly painted signs. They’re the same kinds of stores that are in strip malls near us, but out here they have the time and money to make them look cute.

“You do this drive a lot?”