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They park right beside the stairs in my apartment's lot, and Carl puts a hand on my back as we move up the stairs. I'm worried what the place will look like. I'm prepared to eat crow again, wallow in the fact that Mom and Carl both know I'm a total fuckup.
But...the place is clean inside. I find a note from Jenna. She's got the spare key from where I keep it on my bike.
"It's not as messy as I feared. Given the state of your room before moving,” Mom says.
I nod, mentally thanking Jenna. "I've been trying harder."
"Sometimes fraternities can push you into drinking," Carl tells me. "You can say no."
I almost laugh—I'm sure I’m the only one from over at the frat house who went to the hospital last night—but I don't want to be a dickhead.
"I know. Thank you. I'm sorry I scared y'all."
"Well, you did." Mom lets out a soft sigh. She narrows her eyes at me. "You seem okay. You need rest, and electrolyte drinks. Why don't we go get you some? We'll be back in a half an hour. What about a grocery trip?"
They end up going out to get me groceries. I lie on the couch, too fucking weak to get up and change into fresh clothes. I text Jenna.
'Thank you. I don't even know what to say. Thank you.'
'You're not mad at me?' she asks.
'Hell no. If you called 9-1-1, I know it had to be bad. Not sure I want to know how bad...'
'You passed out, like stone cold, and your whole body was white and sweaty. You were breathing sort of fast, and you kept dry heaving. Even though you were passed out. I honestly thought it was a seizure.'
'Oh God. I'm so soo sorry, Jenna'
'It's okay, Josh. I told everyone who asked that it was something from your epilepsy. I hope you don't mind......'
'I don't'
What was she supposed to tell them? Miller is popping Xanax like it's fucking Pez and guzzling hunch punch?
'I'm not upset,' I add. 'You did everything right. You're the one who should be upset.'
'I'm not. Promise. I just wish you would talk to me...'
'I talk to you every day' I send a little kissy face—the cat one, which looks casual and cool, not like it's laid up on the couch in barf clothes.
She doesn't reply for a long time. So long that I think I should drag my ass into the shower. As I'm getting up, my phone's screen lights up.
'You know what you said to me after I called the ambulance?'
My heart beats a little too hard as I wait for her to tell me. But she doesn't. I text, 'No'
'You were still dry heaving, but you begged me to call Ezra'
I don't talk about that shit with Jenna. Not with anybody. She knows what happened. I don't need to tell her more about it.
'Glad u didn't. Smart.' I add the smile emoji with the glasses.
'Maybe you should talk to someone, Josh. A therapist or something. You were really sick last night...'
Another text is coming through, but I slide the phone under my pillow, run the shower. Before I get in, I open up the bathroom drawer and pull one of my little magic bars out. There's this guy that sells them a few doors down. Don't wanna stop taking the Xannie and stop drinking all at once. Could cause a seizure.
I smirk to myself as I step under the hot water. Then I chew the thing and wait for it to ease the knot in my chest.
Fourth Quarter
One
Ezra
August 16, 2019
Dear Miller,
MY Miller. I don’t know if you’re my stepbrother Miller or just some other guy named Miller. But if I knew you well enough to write your name on my arm before getting my brain zapped, I guess it’s okay if I write you this note. Don’t worry, I won’t ever mail it. Like I know who I would mail it to…
Anyway.
I’m in Tuscaloosa. Living in the athlete dorms.
Football’s going okay. Honestly it’s going really well, except I’m tired all the time. But I sort of like it.
I went on a drug-hazed pilgrimage to see the TV pastor Luke McDowell and his husband Vance Rayne. And their baby. It was- really fucking weird. But awesome?
They’re some really nice guys. It’s hard to explain. I feel lucky that it happened, even though the way it started wasn’t great.
They found me someone Luke wants me to talk to here in T-town. About- you know. Since I’m never sending this shit, we’ll pretend you know. I should call the therapist soon. I’m going to.
I’m going to tell you something that sounds crazy, okay?
I used to have these nightmares, but I’m dreaming about other shit now. When I wake up, I’m really sweaty- drenched. Like, worked up. The weird thing is, I wake up feeling hopeful. Not even hopeful… like a sense of bliss. Fucking elated. Sometimes I feel around the covers, and I’m wanting something.
