by Emery Lee
“You get that off some TLC show?”
E smiles. “Look, I’m just trying to be helpful. I know it’s hard to talk about some things, and we haven’t even known each other that long.”
Which, now that e says it, kind of strikes me. We’ve really only known each other a month, and yet I’m about to pour out all my deepest secrets. God, what is it about em that makes me so eager to hand over everything?
And then I realize that it’s the fact that e isn’t forcing me to. E says I don’t have to say a thing—that I can walk away and waste eir time—and I know that e means it. E’s not saying it to sound superior or guilt me into confessing, and something about that is too reassuring to resist.
So I tell em everything—about Becca and our lifelong friendship and how strained all of that’s felt since I got to Colorado. About the Meet Cute Diary, and everything it’s meant to me and so many other people. About Drew, how we met, how we got together, all the things that have built up since then. It’s probably an hour later by the time I’m done talking, and all the ice has melted in my tea, but wow, do I feel lighter.
“Anyway,” I say, “that’s that. I just—don’t really know what to do about anything, so I’m just venting to you.”
“I’m sorry, Noah,” e says, and it really sounds like e means it. “I’m probably not the best person to give you advice since I don’t have a whole lot of friends, but it might help if you talk to Becca.”
“I tried talking to her,” I say. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
Devin smiles. “I meant, once you get ahold of her. It sounds like you talk more about you than her.”
“We’d talk about her if she ever volunteered anything.”
“Sometimes it’s hard for people to volunteer information, but when someone asks, it gets a little easier.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Speaking from experience?”
E clears eir throat, eyes falling to the table. “After my suicide attempt, I lost most of my friends. They just couldn’t really handle it, you know?”
I pause, my voice catching in my throat. “I’m sorry, Devin.”
“It’s okay,” e says, smiling up at me again like I’m the one who needs to be comforted. “I just think sometimes we lose friendships because we expect things to fall into place, but sometimes, the pieces are stubborn and you have to move them yourself. I’d hate to see you lose such a great friend because you didn’t try enough options.”
“I can’t force her to talk to me,” I say.
“No, but you can make sure she knows that she can talk to you, if she wants to. Whatever she’s going through might feel impossible. You just have to show her that it isn’t.”
“Okay, so what do I do about Drew?” I ask.
Devin shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not your therapist.”
And I laugh because the way e says it catches me completely off guard, though I know e’s right. “And here I thought you were just an infinite well of good advice.”
“I just told you what I wish someone had said to my friends when I was going through a hard time. Well, and some things I learned from my therapist. I’ve never had a boyfriend, so you’re on your own with that one.”
I pause, an unexplainable urgency taking over me as I say, “Are you not into boys?”
E looks up at me over eir straw, a blush creeping across eir cheeks. “Why would you say that?”
And really, I’m not sure why it suddenly seems so important, so I just say, “You just said you never had a boyfriend.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not into boys. It just means I haven’t dated anyone.”
“No one ever?” I ask.
Devin shrugs. “Is that a bad thing?”
“You’re almost eighteen, aren’t you?”
“That’s really not as old as you make it sound.”
Which, yeah, I know that. I guess it just seems weird to me that someone could go so long without a boyfriend and not be fighting like hell to get one. Finding a boyfriend meant everything to me until I found Drew.
“Are you gay?” Devin asks.
“I guess so. I mean, some girls are attractive, but I’m mostly into boys or masculine people. So I guess whatever you’d call that.”
Devin laughs. “That sounds pretty bi to me.”
I smile. “Okay, I’m bi, then. What about you?”
“I don’t know. I used to always say I’m gay, but I guess that doesn’t really apply since I don’t even know my own gender. I’d say I’m an androphile, though.”
“That’s not a fancy word for a pedophile, is it?”
Devin chokes, a hand coming up to eir mouth as e coughs. Finally, e says, “No, it’s not! It means I’m only into guys.”
I smile. “Good, that’s better.”
Devin still looks a little sick, which is a pretty understandable response. E takes a moment to get eir breathing together before saying, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, but it’s not because I don’t want one. I’m pretty sure I’m asexual, but that doesn’t really affect my dating preferences, you know?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re just too picky to find anyone?”
Devin rolls eir eyes. “No one’s ever liked me like that.”
I laugh, but the moment passes, and I realize e’s totally serious. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t anyone like you?”
E shrugs. “How should I know? I guess I’m just not a likable person. Ask the populations of Florida and Colorado.”
But it’s honestly such an absurd notion to me. Sure, Devin’s kinda weird, a little eccentric, and not so great at holding the contents of eir stomach, but e’s also super sweet, talented and creative, open-minded and compassionate. E’s always working toward a cause, and trying to help the next generation, and smiling despite every terrible thing that’s happened to em. Am I really supposed to believe no one’s attracted to that?
“You’ve obviously been hanging around pretty terrible people if no one’s been into you,” I say. “That’s so ridiculous.”
Devin blushes again, and at this point, I’m worried e’ll turn permanently pink. “I guess I just haven’t met the right person yet.”
“You will,” I say. “You know, eventually. Someone who really appreciates how great you are.”
And there’s something in eir eyes as e looks at me, a soft smile on eir face. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”
“Do you have plans for the Fourth?” I ask.
“Work?”
I roll my eyes. “After that.”
“My parents usually have a little party,” e says. “Nothing big. Just some friends and some fireworks.”
I smile, waiting for em to ask me if I want to come. And waiting. And waiting . . .
“Are you not going to invite me?” I ask.
Devin blushes. “I—I’m sorry, I just figured you were doing something with Drew.”
I probably should’ve figured that too, considering he’s my boyfriend, but I also don’t know if we’re going to be doing anything together for a while. I guess it depends on whether or not he apologizes.
And really, I know I should want him to apologize—and I’m sure a part of me does since we’re endgame and everything—but I don’t want to think about him right now. Honestly, I’m more interested in spending the Fourth with Devin.
“I can still spend time with you even if I’m hanging out with Drew,” I say, but as the words leave my mouth, I realize how hollow they sound. I literally made em the same promise this past weekend and failed.
But Devin just smiles and says, “Okay, I’d love to have you. It’ll be nice to have someone there who’s actually my age.”
This time around, I’ll just go to Devin’s place first. That way, Drew can’t keep me from leaving, and I can keep my promise.
Monday, July 2
Isleofsunshine posted:
@MeetCuteDiary I know who made the claim about you, but they don’t want to talk to you or reveal their name. If you have
a message to pass on to them, I can do it for you.
Devin drops me off outside the apartment, and I take the elevator up. My mind has been swirling since we got on the freeway and I remembered that I needed to check on the Diary.
I’m just about to stick my key into the door when I hear a loud, high-pitched laugh coming from the other side. Maggie?
I place my ear against the door and hear Brian say, “Noah can have these, but I’m hiding the bulk of them. He’ll eat everything.”
Which, given my week, is straight-up adding insult to injury. I’m about to throw the door open and put Brian in his place when Maggie says, “He eats a lot for a girl,” and I freeze, my hand hovering near the lock.
“He’s a boy,” Brian says, his voice forceful.
Maggie laughs. “Okay, sure, but he’s still got a girl’s body. You’d think he’d eat like a girl.”
Brian’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Just because he was assigned female at birth doesn’t mean he has a girl’s body.”
“Why are you being so dramatic about this? He’s not even here.”
I can almost picture Brian rolling his eyes, back stiff as he says, “Because he’s my brother? It doesn’t matter if he can’t hear you. You should still respect him.”
My heart flutters a little as I picture Brian standing in the kitchen, his eyes narrowed accusatorily at Maggie. I mean, it’s invigorating to hear him standing up for me even though he thinks I’m not around to hear it, but it feels even better knowing I was right about Maggie being a piece of shit.
A quick fantasy of Brian pointing toward the door while Maggie walks out, head bowed and a suitcase in hand comes to mind before I shake my head and decide to stop eavesdropping. I know they’ll probably make up in a few hours and be falling into each other’s arms soon after that, but a boy can dream.
I reach to unlock the door just to hear the lock click on the other side. I bounce a foot back so it doesn’t look like I’ve been waiting there as the door swings open, Brian and Maggie staring back at me.
“Yo!” I say, giving them a quick wave.
Brian raises an eyebrow. “I’m walking Maggie out,” he says.
I nod, stepping around him into the apartment. “Cool. Good to see you, Maggie!” I say, even though it’s anything but. Then I beeline for my closet.
I don’t know if Maggie offers me a response, and honestly, I don’t care to find out. Closing the closet door behind me, I plop down on the mattress and grab my laptop.
The second I open Tumblr, my eyes fixate on the little red number over my asks. Okay, it’s not so little anymore. When did it pass two thousand? Hell, I barely remember it passing two hundred.
Opening my notifications, I find someone tagged me in a post saying they’ll relay a message to the troll. Perfect. They could’ve sent me a DM like a normal person, but instead they decided to make this whole thing public like they’re just relishing my misery.
I click on their blog and shoot them a DM, saying: Hey, I just want to say that I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, and that if they want me to remove a story from the blog, I can do that. Also we should discuss how they want to retract their statement since the stories aren’t stolen and this really was just an awkward coincidence.
Brian knocks on the closet door once before saying, “Noah, come help me roll some egg rolls.”
I sigh and press send before closing my laptop and making my way into the kitchen. “I was busy,” I say.
He grins. “So that means you’re not anymore, right? These things take forever.”
I sit down on one of the bar stools and pull the little egg roll wrappers to me. I used to help my mom roll them when we were kids, and yeah, they take forever. And there’s a surgical precision in making sure you roll them tight enough that they don’t spill out, but also making sure you don’t tear through the thin, floury wrapper.
We work in silence for a few minutes as I push the Diary out of my head only to have it replaced with a more annoying thought. “So, what are you hiding from me?”
Brian looks up at me like I just started speaking Japanese. “Wait, what?”
“You told Maggie I eat everything, so you were hiding the bulk of something. That something was?”
I meet Brian’s eyes, but he looks pretty frozen, like he can’t hear anything I’m saying.
“Hello, Brain,” I say.
“Noah, I’m so sorry,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “So you didn’t make me any food?”
He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
And yeah, I do, but I’m kind of dancing around the edges of it because it’s easier to hint at something totally off topic than it is to address the fact that Brian’s dating a transphobe. I mean, it was bad enough when Becca was talking to a known TERF, but that was just talking, and I’ve seen the way Brian looks at Maggie. I hate feeling like I’m offering Brian the opportunity to choose Maggie over me.
But I also can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.
Brian puts down the big wooden spoon he was using to scoop meat into the egg roll wrappers and says, “Did you hear the whole conversation?”
I shrug. “I got the gist of it.”
“I—I’m sorry. I really am. I never thought Maggie would—”
“It’s okay,” I say, because I don’t really want him to reiterate everything Maggie said. One time was enough. “Thanks for standing up for me.”
He smiles. “You’re my brother. How could I not?”
And I smile back. Okay, so maybe Brian isn’t choosing Maggie over me. Maybe he can find a way to balance her shitty transphobia and me without ever forcing us to mix. It’s not the worst option considering I’m pretty good at lying to myself.
Brian picks up the spoon again, working on crafting his own long, lean egg roll while I make mine short and chubby. Honestly, the more meat you stuff into the first ones, the fewer you have to make. It’s a foolproof plan.
Then he pauses again and says, “I broke up with Maggie.”
My head cocks up at that and I fight back the urge to pump my fist into the air like that iconic Breakfast Club scene and settle on an “Oh? How come?”
Brian rolls his eyes again. “Because I can’t be with someone who talks shit about my little brother, okay?”
I wipe a fake tear from my eye, my voice high as I say, “You didn’t have to do that for little ol’ me.”
Brian shakes his head, using the spoon to fling beef chunks at me. “Fuck off, Noah, we both know you wanted this.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Yes,” he says. Then he looks down and says, “But who knows, maybe I should just trust your judgment from now on.”
“Because I’m a genius?”
“I’m pleading the fifth on this one.”
I grin, but also, my heart feels light. No more Maggie. No more Brian and Maggie. I mean, wow, what total and complete bliss.
Then Brian says, “I didn’t know you and Devin were so close.”
I freeze, heat rushing to my face. “We’re not!” I snap, but I guess that isn’t entirely true. I didn’t think we were that close before this afternoon, but e knows about the Diary now, which means e’s basically part of my inner circle. Hell, e knows more than Brian.
“He’s nice. You don’t have to get so defensive,” Brian says, carefully tucking the overhang on one of the wrappers. He definitely seems more comfortable now that the spotlight’s off him.
“Devin uses e/em pronouns now,” I say reflexively. “And I’m not defensive. I just don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”
“I’m sorry about the pronouns, and who exactly is people?”
I shrug because I can’t really explain it. It’s something about the way Becca laughed at me when I told her about Devin, like she thinks there’s something going on there that just doesn’t exist. And now the way Brian’s talking about em like I’m supposed to be weighing out who to take to prom or something.
&n
bsp; “Oh, Drew came by while you were gone,” Brian says.
My hands jerk back from a half-folded egg roll. “What? Why didn’t you lead with that?”
Brian shrugs. “I kind of forgot about it, to be honest. He asked if you were home. I said you were out with a friend, and then he just left.”
My hands are shaking, but I’m not sure why. This is a good thing, right? It means he came by to apologize? Or does it mean he came by to break up with me?
“Did something happen between you two?” Brian asks, and for a moment, I can hear a note of sadness in his voice, like I probably should’ve told him about all of this earlier.
“I—I don’t know,” I say. “We went to a party, and things got kind of awkward.” I push the wrappers away. I can’t muster up the restraint to handle them properly.
“What’d he do?”
I shrug. “Got wasted and didn’t want to leave even though we were supposed to go to Devin’s party.”
“So are you guys in a fight or something?”
“I honestly don’t know, but if he came here looking for me, I should probably go talk to him. I don’t want him getting funny ideas about where I’ve been.”
Brian sighs. “Finish rolling those egg rolls first.”
I groan but oblige. I feel like I owe it to him.
“Also, Noah?”
I look up.
“Just because he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean you owe anything to him, okay? If he’s getting possessive—”
I shake my head. “He’s fine, Brian. I just don’t want him to get jealous.”
“I know. Just be careful, okay? Some guys don’t act the same once they’re jealous.”
And I know what he’s trying to tell me, but something like that couldn’t apply to Drew . . . at least, I don’t think it could.
I try to call him once I’m finished rolling the last egg roll, but he doesn’t answer his phone. I end up getting a ride out to his place, knocking on the door, and waiting patiently for someone to finally open it.
The door swings open, and an older white man with narrowed eyes looks back at me. “We don’t take solicitors here.”
