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Gael took another bite and ate it, watching his plate as he spoke. “That explains Spencer’s comment in the library that one time about you always being beautiful and people hurting others. I don’t have any friends…not one. They make fun of me because I’m so small…so skinny and short…because I wear glasses and like to read. Even at the center I don’t fit in except with you and Spencer. I go to a school for the arts, and I still get bullied. That tells you how big of a loser I am.”
“No,” I rushed out. “It doesn’t. There’s nothing wrong with you. Fuck them. They’re the ones with the issue. They’re the ones with the problem.”
“Why doesn’t it feel that way, then?” Gael asked, and damned if my eyes didn’t begin to sting.
Why didn’t it feel that way? Life would be a whole lot easier if it did.
“Because we’re human and we’re so fucking hard on ourselves.” I was hard on myself, wasn’t I? The way I worked out and ate, trying to be perfect. The photos I posted and then the way I scrutinized every extra bit of skin, or the way I stood and how it made my muscles look smaller or my body look bigger. The way I thought Spencer’s body was perfect and sexy but hated myself if I put on a pound. “It seems there’s two ways to be—really fucking hard on others, or really fucking hard on ourselves. People like you and me…we choose ourselves.”
Finally, he looked up at me. “But you’re better now. How did you do it? How did you get past it? I hate myself, and I hate everyone else. I’m so sad and angry all the time. I pretend I’m okay, but I’m not.”
Gael’s words nearly stole my breath. He could have been talking about me just as easily as he was himself. I pretended I was okay…but I wasn’t. I hadn’t dealt with my past. I had major self-esteem, self-worth, food, and body image issues. I told myself it was just disordered eating, as if that wasn’t bad enough, but maybe it was more. “We have that in common too.”
Gael frowned.
“I love cookies.” I pointed to the one on his plate with chocolate chunks. “That’s my favorite, but it would have to be a special occasion for me to allow myself to eat it. And I’d feel bad about myself the entire time. I would double my workout routine because I ate a cookie. I spend most of the time trying to pretend I’m fine and that it’s not as bad as it is, but I obsess about social media and what people think of me. I’m so afraid of being the boy I used to be, but…but maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with him.” Maybe it was time I let myself see that.
I swiped at my eye when a tear leaked free.
“Sorry, Gael, I was supposed to be helping you, and I’m talking about my own shit.”
He shook his head quickly, making his glasses go crooked. “Don’t apologize. What you just did…you talked to me like I’m your equal, like we’re the same. I never would have thought someone like you would be dealing with all that. It helps me to feel less alone.”
That’s what most of us wanted out of life, right? Not to feel alone. I’d felt alone before the Beach Bums. Sometimes I felt alone now that they all had someone to love…but then, I had Spencer now, and I didn’t feel alone with him. I felt like…more…more than I’d ever thought I could be or feel or have.
“You don’t want to hurt yourself, do you?” I asked softly.
“No. I don’t. I wouldn’t. And my mom is great. I could never do that to her.”
“That’s good. Have you told her how bad it’s getting?”
He shrugged. “Some of it. She wants me to see a therapist, but that feels so fucking dumb. Like, how in the hell is that going to help? Just talking to a stranger.”
“You won’t know unless you try.”
“Do you see a therapist?” Gael asked.
The question was so simple, so innocent, but it nearly knocked me off my seat. I didn’t know what it was about hearing Gael ask that, but it made everything click into place inside me. Wanting him to get better made me realize it was time for me to deal with my struggles too.
“I don’t. I’ve been spending most of my life fighting it, and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. I think…I think maybe it’s time for that to change. Maybe it’s something we can do together? Not together-together, obviously, but maybe it’s something we can both try. I don’t want you to get to my age and still be dealing with the traumas of your past.”
He stared at me for a moment, his brown eyes taking me in. The silence stretched between us, making my nerves kick into high gear. Maybe he was going to say no. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe I was pushing too hard and—
