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Jonah
Nothing really changes after our journey. For the next four days, Gray and I go to work like usual. In the evenings, I eat takeout in front of the TV while he eats at the counter, reading his book about Steve Jobs and getting more and more distracted by whatever I have on. Then I go downstairs and he stays upstairs and I listen to him walk around half the night, wondering when he has time to dream and whether I’m still in them.
The trial starts on Thursday, so Gray magnanimously tells me I can take Wednesday off while he works from home.
I sleep late and then sort some laundry to take upstairs and wash. I’m listening to The Wrecks and singing into a balled-up pair of socks like a microphone, kicking shirts and pants from the floor into a white plastic laundry hamper.
Gray doesn’t knock, and I don’t even realize he opened the door until it bangs hard into the wall, almost bouncing back to hit him in the face.
“Jesus.” I fumble around, looking for a shirt, because all I’m wearing is a pair of baggy gym shorts. “Can I help you?”
He doesn’t move or say anything, just stares at me, his eyes very dark, and I slowly pick up my phone and turn off the music. “What?”
My stomach clenches into a hard knot when he holds up a sheaf of stapled-together papers. I knew this was coming; I thought I had time to figure out what to do about it. Then Saturday happened, and I realized just how much I had to lose.
“Avery contacted the school to make sure they were processing your academic improvement plan, and they said they never received one. He worked hard to get that deadline for you, and you missed it. Did you mistake my kitchen garbage can for the admissions office inbox?”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” My voice barely comes out.
“You’re not even going to try to think of something?” He smooths the papers out carefully, like he can salvage them from all the grease stains and coffee grounds. His quiet, brittle coldness is a thousand times worse than yelling. “This right here is everything I tried to do for you, everything I wanted you to have. What game have you been playing with me?”
“Fuck,” I groan. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t ask why you’ve been lying to me? I don’t understand what you want from me.”
“It’s not about you.” I collapse onto the end of the bed, running my hand over my face. It feels like a speech I’ve been practicing since the day I met him. “Shit, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’m not going back to school and I’m not becoming a lawyer.”
His face goes blank. He’s like a human calculator trying to tally up words that don’t make sense. “I know it’s overwhelming, but you can fix your grades. Avery and I could even help you with the improvement plan, if you’d justaskinstead of—”
“Will you please stop being so fucking nice? I don’t want to be a lawyer; I never have. I’m fucking terrible at it, and there are no words for how much I hate everything to do with this stupid career. I’m only here because it’s what my parents wanted and I’m a fucking coward. I tried and tried to change myself, but I can’t do it and I think I’ll lose my mind if I keep trying.” My eyes are burning, my throat full, because I’ve come so far into this lie I can’t see a way out and the shame is overwhelming. Four years of college and half a year of law school, all because I’m not brave enough to say those words to my parents.
This time he doesn’t come to me or tell me I’m good. He just stands there staring at me, his expression shuttered. “It’s not even smart,” he says finally, dropping the papers on the floor between us. “How did you think we wouldn’t notice? I trusted you.”
“I thought maybe the internship would fix me, or that you'd fire me before it even mattered.” I pull in a shaky breath, staring down at my paint-spattered gym shorts. “I’m so sorry.” I thought Gray could never scare me, but I’m scared now. Everything he opened up and gave to me, it’s all gone. He’s shut me out, and I don’t know where he went but I know he’s alone there.
“Saying you’re sorry doesn’t give anyone back the time and energy they’ve spent on you. If you’re giving up, just give up and don’t drag other people into it, Jonah.”
“Itried.” The volume of my voice startles me. “I dropped out of school. I left. And then you came along and you threw this job at me. You didn’t listen, because you were so excited for a chance to save me. I got carried away because I wanted to make you happy.”
“Do you think it’s my fault?” He means to sound indignant, but he just sounds like he’s questioning what it is about him that makes him deserve to be hurt again.
“No. I don’t know. Fuck. You wouldn’t have listened to me if I told you.” I slide to the floor and put my head between my knees.
“And you used me to keep up this act. No matter what I did wrong,” he points out, his voice flat and fragile, “I never lied to you.” Of course he didn’t. God that hurts.
I get up and grab my backpack, stuff in a handful of clothes. “I’m gonna go. I’ll pick up the rest of my things later and we can work out a payment plan or whatever you want for the rest, the food and the suits.”
When I head for the door, he steps in front of me. I’m shivering a little and trying really hard not to cry, only kind of succeeding, and I just stare at his chest and wait for him to tell me it’s going to be alright. Or that he hates me and never wants to see me again. He doesn’t do either. He just moves out of the way and watches me go.
Gray
Jonah knocks so quietly that evening I almost don’t hear it. When I open the door, he’s standing in the hall in his Bigfoot hoodie, staring at his sneakers, with a twelve pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon hanging from his fingers.
“I forgot my phone charger,” he murmurs, not looking up.
When Colson walked away during an argument, it’s because he knew I would come after him and grovel until he told me how to make it right. I’ve never had someone come back to me. Crossing my arms, I lean on the doorframe. “I could have sworn I watched you stuff it in your bag as you called me an overbearing asshole.”
Fighting a smile, he hefts the cardboard box in his hand. “I brought beer.”
