I Wish You All the Best

by Mason Deaver

  I finally manage to spit out something. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, just take your time.”

  “Can we go?”

  “Yeah, of course.” He reaches for me again but stops short. “Can I touch you?”

  I nod. “Sorry, I just—”

  “No, it’s all right. Come on.”

  The hand on my back doesn’t make me want to gag anymore. In fact, I’m certain that Nathan is doing most of the work as he walks me back to his car, even going so far as to open the door for me.

  “Thanks,” I say, hoping he won’t try to buckle my seat belt for me. I can only stand so much humiliation in one night.

  He climbs into the driver’s seat, totally silent, the car roaring to life as he turns the ignition and slides it into reverse.

  “Mel and Sophie?” I ask.

  “They’re staying a little longer. I told them I’d get you home.” He braces his hand against the back of my headrest so he can see behind us.

  “Oh.” Goddammit. I fucked up. Big-time. Nathan speeds down the dirt road wordlessly, not even the radio to fill the void between us. One of us has to talk, someone has to say something, and I know it won’t be me.

  I’m not that brave right now.

  I sneak glances at him out of the corner of my eye. He doesn’t look mad, but then again, he’s Mr. Positive, so I’m not even sure he has it in him to be more than mildly frustrated.

  “If you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He still smiles, never taking his eyes off the road.

  “Sorry.” I shut my eyes, only opening them again to watch the dark trees we drive past.

  “I mean, I know I’m handsome and all, but seriously, if you’d rather have a picture, that’s cool too.”

  I pick at the jeans covering my knees, the tight fabric that feels more suffocating now than anything else. “I’m sorry.”

  “You apologize a lot,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “I’m …” I deny my automatic reaction.

  “Ben, man, are you okay? I mean, I know you can’t be after all that, but like, I’m worried, dude.”

  “Don’t be,” I say. I feel so close to that edge, and it hurts that Nathan is the one pushing me closer.

  “Why? I’m your friend. I have a right to be worried, don’t you think?”

  “No one said you had to be.”

  Nathan scoffs, and he doesn’t sound very happy. “That’s a thing friends tend to do.”

  He was the one who wanted to be my friend. I keep picking at the spot, thinking that maybe I can scratch my way to my skin, and just keep going. No. I force the thoughts from my head and sit on my hands instead.

  “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “Yes, please” is my first answer, but then I think about Hannah, and her reaction. I’m guessing one look at me would tell her all she needed to know, and the second she sees me like this she’ll rush me over to a hospital or call Dr. Taylor. “Actually, no.”

  “No?” Nathan glances over for a split second, before focusing back on the road again.

  “No. My sister’s there.”

  “Why would she care?”

  “I just can’t go there right now.” There might be too many questions. Like why I live with my sister and her husband, or why there aren’t any pictures of my parents on the walls. And then that familiar guilt settles in my stomach.

  I should tell him.

  “Okay, where do you want to go?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “My parents aren’t home, won’t be until later. We can go to my house.”

  Any other day, this thought would’ve terrified me. But instead I nod, knowing that right now, Nathan Allan’s house is the only place for me.

  “Can I show you something?” Nathan asks.

  We’re in his backyard, tossing the ball for Ryder again. He keeps switching between the two of us, taking the ball back to Nathan, then bringing it to me.

  It’s simple. Easy. Just what I need right now.

  “Sure.” I throw the ball again.

  Nathan doesn’t wait for Ryder to catch up. He goes back inside through the glass doors, leaving them wide open for me to follow. We head up to his room again. It’s cleaner this time. Most of the clothes have been picked up, but there are still piles of books lying everywhere, like he doesn’t know what to do with all of them.

  I expect him to crawl on his bed, but he doesn’t. No, instead he walks over to his window, opening it just wide enough for him to duck through.

  “Out the window?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He grins back at me before vanishing into the night. “Told you I had something to show you.”

  “And it’s on the roof?”

  “Technically.” His voice echoes back into the bedroom. “The roof has the best view.”

  I poke my head outside, unsure of how I’m really supposed to do this. I try my best to copy how he moved, putting one foot out first and then bracing myself to get the other. But these pants are so tight that I’m scared I’ve ripped the crotch for a second. And when I’m finally outside I twist something wrong, and my foot ends up hanging on the windowpane. Fuck, this is how it ends, right? Face-first, thirty feet into Nathan’s backyard. What a way to go.

  “Whoa there, cowboy.” Nathan catches me by the hand, pulling me in close. “Please don’t fall off my roof. That would be very complicated to explain to my parents.”

  “Not like I planned on it.” My heart has to catch up with everything around me, and then I realize just how close we are to each other. “Okay, I think I’ve seen enough.” I close my eyes. “Can we go back inside now?”

  “Not even close.” He steadies me. “You good?”

  I try to get used to standing at an angle while also ignoring certain death below me. “Maybe it’s the alcohol?”

  “Come on, you had one shot like an hour ago. You aren’t drunk.” I feel his hands vanish before one of them settles on my own, his long fingers wrapping around like they belong. I glance down and then back up at him.

  “What are you—”

  “This way.” He leads me around to this spot between two of the windows that poke through the roof. Thankfully this part is pretty flat, so it’s nothing to navigate, even in the dark. Nathan sits down like he’s done this hundreds of times before, and I don’t doubt that he has. He spreads his legs out and rests his head against the part where the steeper angle of the roof meets.

  “Come on.” He pats the empty space beside him.

  I do what he says, careful to watch where I step. I doubt Nathan can make it up in time to save me again. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

  “You showed me your quiet place.”

  “My quiet place?” I rest the same way he does, my back against the roof, but I tuck my legs in instead.

  “The quad.”

  “Oh, that’s not really …” I mean, I guess it is, even if I’m not always alone while I’m there.

  “This is mine,” he continues. “When everything gets too loud or gets to be too much, this is where I go.” He lifts his head and stares toward the sky. The light pollution from the skyscrapers nearby hides most of the stars, but the ones that manage to poke through are so bright that you don’t really mind.

  “It’s nice,” I say, adjusting so a shingle will stop stabbing me in the back.

  “Mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw me up here the first time.”

  “You have to admit that the quad is a lot safer.”

  “Can’t argue.” He folds his arms and tucks them behind his head. “I’m sorry for tonight.”

  “It’s whatever, not your fault.”

  “I thought it would be fun.”

  I shrug.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  Not really, but what else is there to discuss? “My doctor says they’re panic attacks. I …” Here it comes, the truth. I try to think up a lie. Some childhood trauma that causes them, but I really don’t want to lie
to Nathan, not about this, at least. “My parents kicked me out of my house …”

  It feels like the night I came out to Mom and Dad. When the truth was on my tongue for days, weeks even, just waiting to come out until I was worrying myself sick over it. And I knew I had to say it. Because it was all supposed to be fine.

  We sit there. I know I shouldn’t have told him, but I guess part of me is tired of lying to him. At least about this. It feels like time stops moving, like now I’m frozen in this spot forever, never able to escape. I silently beg Nathan to say something, anything at all. Just break this silence, please.

  “Oh,” he finally says after what feels like a century. “That really fucking sucks.”

  “Yeah.” Of everything I expected, that wasn’t really on the list.

  “That’s terrible.” I watch his throat bob, the rise and fall of his chest.

  I take a deep breath. “I live with my sister now. She’s married to Thomas, Mr. Waller. He helped me get into Wake.”

  “What happened?”

  “I did something I shouldn’t have, made a big mistake.” And paid the price for it.

  “Big enough to get forced out of your house?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Do you still love them?” Nathan asks. “Your parents?”

  The question actually takes me off guard. “I … I don’t know,” I tell him.

  I don’t. I really don’t. I wish the answer was easy, but it isn’t. How can you not love your parents? Even after everything they did, I have a problem saying it out loud. Maybe I don’t love them; maybe they don’t deserve that love anymore.

  I think I might.

  And I think I might hate them too.

  One thing I do know is that I miss them. I don’t know why, but I do.

  I hate that I do.

  Nathan does this little nod and lets out this really slow breath.

  I can hear him move, watch his hand slip from behind his head, and move down quickly until it settles across mine, and our fingers mix together again. I don’t even fight it, because for once, another person touching me like this doesn’t make me sick to my stomach. “No one should have to go through that,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought, but really, just the idea of him being here is enough right now.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I ask. “Please.”

  “Anything else?”

  I just nod.

  “I’ve got this English paper I need to start on.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be on break?”

  That makes him laugh. “Be glad you never had Cooper. Might as well get a head start on it though.”

  “What’s it on?”

  “The Crucible.”

  “Witches, stoning, and drowning. Fun times.”

  “Mr. Cooper’s letting us pick our own topics, and I got nothing. At least it’s not due until after break.”

  “Such a procrastinator,” I tease.

  “It’d be easier if there was more gay subtext.”

  I let out something between a scoff and a snort. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “In tenth grade we read this book about a gang of boys, and two of them were obviously in love, but my teacher turned down my idea for an essay on their relationship.”

  “Always stifling creativity.” Two boys, huh? Well, at least he’s comfortable with queer guys.

  “Can’t spell ‘subtext’ without ‘butt sex.’” He’s laughing so hard that he can barely get the words out, and that makes me laugh. And after a few seconds we’re both struggling to catch our breath, all the while, our hands never leaving each other’s.

  “Do you know anything about astronomy?” he asks when we’ve both gone totally quiet.

  “Not a lot. Why? Oh, tell me you’re a total astronomy nerd, please.”

  “Let’s see.” Nathan points toward the sky and begins to draw an invisible outline. “You see that there? That’s Orion. And if you follow the belt there, it leads you right to Leo.” I try my best to follow his pattern, but with all the light pollution, it’s nearly impossible.

  “And that’s Sirius.” He outlines something else I can’t make out.

  “How can you even tell?” I ask.

  “I have a secret method.”

  “And that is?”

  He leans in closer and whispers, “I’m making it all up.”

  “You ass.” I want to shove him, but that would require the hand that his is currently occupying, and there’s no chance I’m giving this up. Not right now.

  “I don’t even think I could find that North Star thing everyone’s been talking about,” Nathan adds as we settle back down. “Dad tried to teach me, but at this point I’m totally convinced it’s a conspiracy.”

  “Yeah, they told me that in second grade. Keep the North Star a total secret from one Nathan Allan. Hush-hush stuff, you know?” I can’t keep myself from giggling.

  “Good, mystery solved. That means I can finally put it behind me.” He lets out a long sigh, and then he looks at me.

  Silence surrounds us again, but it definitely isn’t the bad kind. I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels comfortable. Like we don’t have to say anything right now.

  We’re enough for each other. At least in this moment.

  “Thanks.” I run my thumb over the skin of his hand. I can almost feel his heart beat now; it’s thudding in his chest. Is he actually nervous? That seems so un-Nathan. “Thank you for this,” I say. “For sharing this with me.”

  His mouth spreads into that smile. “No problem.”

  I wake up early the next morning, because of course I do. I can’t even sleep in for spring break. Staying asleep has been getting easier, but Dr. Taylor told me it could take a few weeks for us to see if the medication is working, so maybe I’ve just tricked myself into thinking the problem is going away.

  But last night, it didn’t feel like the anxiety was what was keeping me awake. Nathan and I sat out on his roof for what felt like decades, until his phone started ringing, his mom letting him know that they were on the way home.

  He offered to introduce me, but I turned him down. I don’t know, something about meeting his parents, the way they’d probably look at me as this total stranger who’s been home alone with their son for who knows how long. I’ve also been to their house twice now without their knowledge, so I know it’s going to have to happen soon. Maybe one day I’ll work up the courage.

  It’s still pretty cool outside, even if it’s almost April, so I throw on a hoodie and sweatpants and sit out in the enclosed area of Hannah and Thomas’s porch, the screen windows letting in just enough cool air.

  My fingers trace my palm, the exact place Nathan held my hand. That moment on the roof, it’s like he knew. What exactly he knew, I have no clue. I don’t even know what it means, if it’s even supposed to mean something. Was he just being there for me? Am I more than a friend? Does he think of me that way now, or is he just really good at being himself? Or am I totally looking way too deep into this?

  I have a feeling that last one is probably the right answer.

  But I also know that I really liked it, and that it might not be such a bad thing if it happened again.

  No, it’d get too complicated with Nathan. If I can’t even be out to him, how can I expect him to be my boyfriend? There’s too much going on right now, too much to work through. Besides, we’re graduating in two months, and he’s probably going off to school, and I’m staying here to live with Hannah until I eventually find a full-time job and try to save up enough money for my own apartment. Never leaving this state, or hell, never even leaving Raleigh.

  But I can dream, right?

  I draw back my hand when I hear the door slide open.

  “You’re up early,” Hannah says, taking the seat across from me.

  “Couldn’t sleep.” I run my fingers along my empty palm again. There’s a dog barking in the distance. I wonder if it’s Ryder.

  “So how was your night?”
she asks, cup of coffee in hand.

  “Fine.” I scratch the back of my head. I can’t tell her the truth, but that’s an easy enough lie.

  “You got in late. Didn’t party too hard, right?”

  “I had one drink, and something that tasted really gross.”

  “Yeah, you get used to it.”

  I debated all night whether I should tell her about the panic attack, but in the end, I know it’ll just cause more worry. That’s something to tell Dr. Taylor, not Hannah. “I don’t think the party life is for me,” I try to joke.

  Hannah lets out this tired little chuckle, staring ahead at the line of trees that cut off her backyard from the noise of the city nearby.

  I wish I could say she hasn’t changed in the ten years we’ve been apart. Still a little pushy without really meaning to be, still headstrong. She is those things, but other than that, there isn’t really much I know about her. The age difference meant we weren’t really a part of each other’s lives. I mean, what teenager wants to hang around their kid sibling? She had her own life, her own friends, her own hobbies. She spent weekends out of the house, and nights locked away in her room.

  It dawns on me that as much as she’s saved my life, I don’t really know my own sister.

  “So what are your plans for today?” she eventually asks.

  “Nothing.” I shrug. I guess I have a whole week to look forward to. A week without the art room, my portrait of Nathan left alone. A week without Sophie or Meleika. “What about you?”

  “Thomas is finally catching up on sleep. But I need to go to the grocery store. Want to come with? It’s right next to a shopping center. Maybe we can find you some new clothes while we’re out.”

  “We could do that,” I say. Maybe this is the chance we’ve both been waiting for. We’re older, and without Mom and Dad around, it might be easier. Besides, I’d rather not have to raid her closet the next time I want to go out. Not that I’m too eager for another party, but you never know when you might need semi-decent-looking clothes.

  “You want breakfast? I’m starving,” she says after a solid minute of neither of us contributing to the conversation.

  “Not hungry.”

  “Okay.” She stands up and walks back inside. I wait until I hear the click of the door before I pull out my phone. I’ve gone nearly a week without talking to Mariam. Not totally ignoring, but it’s been mostly one-sided conversations. I just really haven’t felt like talking much at the moment.