by TJ Klune
First, it was the time he wore a bright, blocky orange costume and spoke a line that caused people in the audience to laugh. The sound of them reacting to something he’d said had caused his body to be flooded with a joy like he’d never experienced.
The second time was when he’d inhaled for the first time, thick smoke going down his throat, causing it to burn and his eyes to water. He’d coughed almost instantly, a waste of his turn in puff, puff, pass, but he’d been allowed to try again, and he was sure nothing was happening, sure that he wasn’t feeling it, until all of a sudden, everything felt good.
The third was when he realized he wasn’t alone. It’d been before Casey had gone to Oregon on his sabbatical. They’d been at Tuesday brunch, and it’d hit Josy out of nowhere, the realization that he’d built a family on his own. He would do anything for them, knowing they would do the same in return. He hadn’t had that before. The audience had laughed when he’d been the cheese, but no one there had been related to him. His parents just… they hadn’t understood him, even back then. It’d only gotten worse as he grew older. He had dreams. To them, they were flights of fancy that weren’t ever going to be real. They thought he was special, that word so coded to mean all sorts of things. He didn’t start speaking until long after he should have; he didn’t get the best grades, couldn’t necessarily understand complexities that others could. Words were thrown around him, things that sounded like Asperger’s or high-functioning autism, but it hadn’t amounted to anything. He wasn’t slow, though his father had used that word quite a lot when talking about him.
And maybe he was something. Maybe he was disordered. Maybe he had something wrong with his brain. Or maybe, just maybe, he was exactly the way he was supposed to be. And it wasn’t until Casey and Serge and Xander that he realized it didn’t matter. He was the way he was, and he was always going to be that way. They were happy when he was happy, and when he wasn’t, they would do everything they could to fix it, knowing he would do the same for them. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to be any other way than how he was, but that he didn’t want to be. He had found people who didn’t talk shit about the whole demi thing, didn’t give a fuck if he wasn’t the smartest guy in the room. They loved him stoned, they loved him sober. They loved him for all the things he was and not all the things he wasn’t. They supported him in his acting career and let him bitch and moan when he didn’t get a part. Sure, Xander could be a dick sometimes, and Serge tended to pose more often than he didn’t, and Casey decided it was a good idea to move to another state entirely, but they were his and he was theirs, and nothing was going to change that.
The fourth time he’d achieved Nirvana (though Serge had decided Nirvana wasn’t quite what was going on) was when he’d met Gustavo Tiberius. Even if Gustavo would deny it, Josy knew they were kindred spirits, though Casey said Gustavo was a beautiful rain cloud and Josy was a ray of sunshine. While Casey and Gustavo were meant to be in love forever and do cute couple stuff like hold hands and shotgun into each other’s mouths, Gustavo and Josy were destined to be brothers for the rest of their lives.
Gustavo didn’t understand that yet, but it was okay. Josy had time.
And here, now, was the fifth time Josy had achieved Nirvana, hearing a man named Q-Bert reading about a rhyming Sasquatch plowing his newly bisexual bed partner into the mattress in his cave.
(Either that or the tablets were a hell of a lot stronger than Casey said they were.)
He knew he was staring, mouth gaping, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.
And when Q-Bert finished chapter one of Getting Poetry Slammed in My Butthole by Sasquatch, Josy was the first to stand, clapping furiously, sure he was feeling the same way scientists felt when they saw the light from newborn stars.
Which, of course, meant he had to go and screw it all up.
Chapter 4
“I JUST—I can’t believe this,” Josy exclaimed to Xander.
“Odd,” Xander said. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”
“I know, right? Why have we never heard of Q-Bert before? He’s the greatest author in the history of the entire world!”
“Josy, you don’t read books. You told me once your favorite book was a magazine.”
Josy blinked. “I did? Was I stoned?”
Xander sighed. “Probably.”
“Oh. Well, that explains a lot. And so what if I don’t read much? That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to have an opinion. I’ve read Casey’s books, and I think those are good.”
“They’re young adult postapocalyptic vampire/werewolf books.”
“Yeah, and I still don’t really know what that means. Like, the world ended, right? But then there are werewolves and vampires? And one of each just happens to fall in love with a human girl? That’s dumb. No offense, Casey.”
“He’s not here.”
“Oh. Right. Oregon with Gustavo.” He grinned. “I’m so happy for him.”
“Focus.”
Josy tried. “What were we talking about again?”
Xander leaned against the wall near the entrance to the library. The poster with the multicultural trampoline children was behind him. Josy was getting used to it by now. He wondered what else a library could normalize for him. “The travesty we just bore witness to.”
“Oh yeah! Did you know about him? About any of this literary wonderment?”
“No, Josy. If I had, I would have also needed to fuck the guy who was in the monster truck that looked like a sombrero in order for this to make us even.”
“Monster trucks are weird.”
“I feel like that sentence aptly sums up the type of life you live.”
“We live,” Josy reminded him. “Because you’re part of my life, and I will never let you leave me. I have too much blackmail shit on you.”
Xander looked like he was struggling not to smile. Josy knew his aloofness was a facade, but Xander had spent years cultivating it, so he didn’t call him out on it. “Lucky me,” Xander said, maybe not scowling as much as he had been.
“My life is forever altered,” Josy announced grandly. “Because of a rhyming filthy Sasquatch read by a man named Q-Bert.”
Xander eyed him strangely. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you have a crush.”
“Huh,” Josy said, cocking his head. “That’s weird. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a crush on someone I didn’t know before. How do I know if it’s a crush?”
“Do you want to talk to him?”
Josy thought hard. “Yes.”
“Do you want to make him smile?”
That sounded nice. “Yes.”
“Do you want to hear him laugh?”
That sounded really nice. “Oh yeah.”
“Do you want to stick your dick in his asshole?”
Josy grimaced. “No. Definitely not. I don’t even know him. Why would you even ask me that?”
Xander shrugged. “That’s how things usually work.”
“Not for me.” Josy’s smile faded a bit. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Xander squeezed his shoulder. “I know, Josy. You’re good exactly the way you are. You just… go about things differently.”
“Man, don’t I know it. Not everything needs to be about sex, you know? I mean, sure, it can be nice, but why worry about it right off the bat? It’s like sex in movies.”
“I… don’t follow.”
“This critic I read once. He said sex scenes in movies are pointless. What’s a sex scene supposed to add that imagery and dialogue can’t show you much better? Intimacy doesn’t need to be about fucking.”
“Most people like fucking,” Xander pointed out.
“And that’s fine. But I don’t want to sit next to dudes in a theater getting boners because the woman’s boobs are bouncing on screen.” He paused, considering. “I think I forgot what we’re talking about again.”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
“Pretty good tablets, huh?”
“Casey doesn’t disappoint,” Xander agreed. “Something having to do with your crush on monster-porn guy.”
“Right,” Josy said. “Except we don’t know if it’s a crush because I don’t know what that feels like.”
“You’ve had boyfriends before.”
This was true. Three in fact. The first was when he was seventeen. Jason had been a year older, and they’d gotten stoned in a church parking lot on six different occasions. They’d given each other hand jobs three of those times, though Jason seemed to enjoy it a lot more than Josy had. It hadn’t been… bad, not really, but Josy would’ve liked if they’d just passed the spliff back and forth and maybe kissed a little.
The second was when he’d been twenty. Armando had been older, in his late forties. He’d been sweet and kind and most of all patient, though he didn’t quite understand Josy’s views on sex. He hadn’t pushed, exactly, but in the end, the sex thing had led to frustration on both their parts. Josy tried to give more than he was ready for, and Armando had put a stop to it. They still talked every few weeks or so, and Josy had been one of the groomsmen in his wedding last year to a dog walker named Scott. He’d cried because it’d been such a happy event.
The third hadn’t gone so well. Nothing bad had happened, per se, but Elliot hadn’t gotten Josy’s… entire existence. Those had been his exact words, at the end. They’d worked together at Applebee’s, and Josy was feeling a bit sorry for himself since Casey had moved to Oregon to be with the best dude in the entire world, and Xander was casually seeing three or six guys, and even Serge had a sort-of boyfriend who liked to touch his chakras, whatever that meant. Maybe Josy had been feeling a little lonely and down on himself, so when Elliot had asked him out for the seventh time, he’d said sure, yeah, why not.
It’d been okay for a while, Elliot respecting his boundaries on being touched or taking things further. It wasn’t that Josy didn’t like him, just that he didn’t know him, not really. It’d been friendly at first, and maybe Elliot didn’t like that Josy got stoned, but whatever. Josy didn’t like the way Elliot wouldn’t help him practice his lines for whatever audition he had coming up. You didn’t have to like everything about someone to actually have feelings for them.
Elliot stopped his supposed understanding of Josy’s boundaries and began to push. Josy told him he wasn’t ready, and he’d get attitude in return. Elliot would scoff or roll his eyes or ask if Josy just wasn’t attracted to him, all the while making it sound like the very idea was ludicrous. In someone Josy knew well, like Xander, that kind of ego wouldn’t have bothered him, given he knew that wasn’t all Xander was.
But on Elliot?
It rankled him, though Josy wasn’t quite sure how to put it in words. And who gave a fuck that Josy liked weed? He rarely drank, never did hard drugs, and still showed up on time for work and was ready for every single audition Starla got for him. What did it matter that Josy liked to smoke out of a bong named Vlad the Inhaler? It was better than popping pills that were supposed to calm his head but instead made him not give a shit about anything. He didn’t like not feeling in control.
It had taken longer than it should have for Josy to realize he wasn’t happy with Elliot. Sure, he had a wicked sense of humor and he let Josy ramble at him sometimes, but he was also a fucking dick.
So Josy had broken things off. Elliot had been angry, but Josy no longer had time for petty bullshit or for people who didn’t accept him for who he was, smoking habit and sexual identity be damned. Life was too fucking short to be involved with stupid people named Elliot.
Xander and Serge had been awesome about it, bringing him fat buds and the collector’s edition of The Wolf Man. Gustavo and Casey had been on Skype watching it in Oregon at the same time, Gustavo allowing Josy to quiz him on Academy Awards trivia for damn near twenty minutes. They’d all gotten stoned and talked about how dumb Elliot was, and by the time Josy nodded off, his head in Xander’s lap, Serge rubbing his feet, and Gustavo on the screen talking to Casey about something to do with a monkey on an island, he felt better about most everything.
Yes, he’d had boyfriends before. And some of them had even been pretty good.
(Except Elliot. Fuck that guy.)
But he’d never had a crush before.
“I think I just want to be his friend,” Josy said now, doing his best to articulate the weird little flutter in his stomach. “Do you think he’d be my friend if I asked?”
Xander’s expression softened. “I don’t know, Josy. But if he doesn’t, he’s a dick who doesn’t deserve you.” He pulled out his phone and began to type on the screen. “I just need to let Serge know you have a crush on someone who writes dirty bestiality porn.”
“I do not,” Josy growled at him.
Xander glanced up at him, a cocky smirk on his face. “Why are you blushing?”
“It’s moderately temperate standing near the door, and my skin is heated. Also, I’m high, and you know my skin turns red when I’m high.”
“Uh-huh.” He pointed his phone at Josy, snapped a picture, and grinned down at it.
“You better not post that to the Russians!”
“Too late. You ready to go, or….”
“I’m thinking.”
“Oh boy.”
Josy gnawed on his bottom lip. “Dee said he’s doing a meet and greet right now.”
“So I heard,” Xander said, sounding amused.
“And maybe we should go to it. You know. To get the full experience.”
“That right.”
Josy nodded furiously. “Also, there are cookies, and I swear to god, if I don’t get food in my mouth in the next six minutes, I’m probably going to die.”
Xander’s eyes were a little glassy. “I could go for a cookie or seven.”
“Maybe there’s even some punch.”
“Like, fruit punch?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You know what’d be awesome right now? Capri Sun. You remember those?”
Josy did. Vividly. “I was one of the cool kids who turned it upside down and poked the straw through the bottom. I didn’t have time for rules. Don’t like it? Die mad about it.”
“Badass,” Xander said fondly. “I suppose we should go if there’s going to be cookies. And maybe you can talk to Q-Bert for a minute too.”
Josy shrugged as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It would be rude not to, right? He was pretty good. Tigress said he’s got anxiety, so it must have been hard for him to do that. He needs to hear that he did a great job. Positive feedback always makes me feel better when I’m nervous.”
“Right. Positive feedback.”
Josy glared at him. “I’m being serious!”
Xander reached out and patted his cheek. “I know. And it’s adorable. Let’s go make you a friend.” He pushed himself off the wall and started walking into the library.
Josy was slightly panicked. “What do you mean, make a friend? Xander? Xander!”
THE LINE was long.
That was good.
And also bad.
Good, because it gave Josy time to plan out what he was going to say.
Bad, because it gave Josy time to overthink what he was going to say.
And for one of the first times in his life, he wished he wasn’t as stoned as he was. Yeah, he was feeling fine, but he was also not feeling fine, and he kept getting distracted by the damn cookies that they’d forgotten to get before they joined the line. Xander tried to leave him to go to the cookies, but Josy demanded he stay right by his side. He took Xander’s hand in his for support, and also to keep him in place. Either they would go for the cookies together or they wouldn’t go at all. And since Josy couldn’t take the chance of losing his place in line, the cookies would have to wait.
Besides, Josy liked holding hands.
Also, Xander couldn’t be trusted.
“Okay,” Josy said as the line slowly moved forward. “How’s this? ‘Hi, my name is Josiah. I like ferrets named
after presidents, and sometimes I turn on music really loud in my apartment and dance in my underwear.’”
“That… might not be the best thing to open with.”
“What? Why?” Josy thought it perfectly summed up his life.
“Because ferrets are creepy, and half the time, you forget to put on underwear.”
“You do not get to talk about Harry S. Truman that way! And it’s my apartment! I can wear whatever I want. Including not wearing anything.”
Xander rolled his eyes. “Just tell him that you liked his book and let the conversation flow from there.”
That sounded reasonable. “But what if he asks me questions I don’t know the answer to? How tall is Mount Everest?”
“I have no idea.”
“Dammit. If only there was a place we could go to that had such knowledge.”
“Like a library?”
Josy rolled his eyes. “No one goes to libraries anymore.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“We should probably just go,” Josy decided. “We can grab a pocketful of cookies and then get an Uber and eat the cookies on the way home.”
“How many cookies is a pocketful?”
Josy thought hard. “I guess it depends on the size of the pocket. Sometimes three. Sometimes thirty. I guess we’ll have to—oh my god, you’re distracting me! Villain!”
Xander snorted. “Darn. And I would have gotten away with it too, had it not been for you—”
Josy felt the blood drain from his face. “We’re only six… seven… nine, ten people away from the front of the line!”
Xander squeezed his hand. “Just be yourself. Or something like it.”
“How do I do that?”
“For better or worse, you’re doing a pretty good job of it right now.”
Josy groaned. “Being an adult and making adult friends is the worst thing in the entire world.”
“Weed is only legal for recreational use in a handful of states.”
“Okay, that’s the worst thing in the entire world. If it was legal everywhere, making friends would be so much easier.” Then a terrible thought struck him. “Oh my god, I’m stoned.”