by TJ Klune
“What’s he talking about?” Quincy asked as the sounds of the wheelchair faded into the house.
“I have no idea,” Josy said.
“Okay. You all right?” Quincy’s fingers tapped against Josy’s knee, seemingly an unconscious action.
Josy was transfixed by it. “Yes,” he finally said. “I think I am.”
WHAT’S HE SAYING?
Look, it’s well known that men like to talk about themselves. They can’t help it; give a man an inch, and he’ll take a mile. But men are often insecure and need to talk themselves up to prove themselves. Oh yes, there are those types of men out the there. You know the ones I’m talking about. They’re the men who take it too far, and instead of trying to prove themselves to a potential romantic partner, they cross the line into bragging. It’s unfortunate, but it happens. Things would be much easier if human beings had evolved as some birds did, with bright plumage that we could puff out and wave around in order to indicate interest. But since we don’t have bright plumages, we tend to overcompensate with our words or actions.
But you know you might have a good match when the man has interest in what you have to say. Even if he’s nervous and telling you about the time he bowled a perfect game or saved ten hostages being held by a gunman in a bank with minimal loss of life, it’s how he reacts to what you talk about that’s most important. If he brushes off what you say and continues talking about himself, it’s a sign that he’s probably a douchebag. Relationships, romantic or platonic, are two-way streets. Yes, sometimes a person might cross over the double yellow line and strike you head-on, but at least they’re going in the opposite direction.
It makes sense if you really think about it.
An exercise to try:
Get close to him and whisper something interesting about yourself. Make sure your shoulders brush together and speak quietly. If you are feeling particularly brave and the person is okay with being touched, put your hand on the small of his back. If he leans closer, he’s potentially interested. If he steps away with a look of disgust on his face, either he’s not interested or you don’t practice good dental hygiene. Consider reading about how to correct this in HOW TO FLOSS AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH.
JOSY FLOSSED twice.
He brushed his teeth for five minutes.
He gargled with mouthwash until his eyes watered.
He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He could do this.
He could do this.
He opened the door.
“Hey, man,” Casey said easily. “I was just coming to check on you. You’ve been in here for a long time, and dinner’s ready.”
“I had to brush my teeth using your toothbrush,” Josy admitted.
A complicated look crossed Casey’s face. “O… kay? I mean, that’s not cool. Like, at all. In fact, it’s really gross.”
“Yeah. I’m not proud of it.”
“Can I ask why?”
“It’s this… whole thing.”
“Does it have anything to do with what you went to the store to see Gus about that he won’t tell me?”
“Probably. Gustavo is my secret-keeper.”
“Uh-huh. Well, maybe not tell him you used my toothbrush. He’ll probably have a meltdown. You know how he gets.”
Josy did.
But his mouth was minty fresh, and he was ready.
He followed Casey out to the kitchen. Quincy was sitting at the table, fidgeting nervously. Gustavo was sitting across from him, his brow furrowed. “What took you so long?”
“Josy was looking for ChapStick,” Casey said quickly, and Josy couldn’t love him more if he tried. “Helped him find some.”
“Why?” Gustavo asked. “Are your lips chapped? They don’t look chapped.” Then, “Oh. Oh. I see. That’s… disgusting. Don’t do that here. It’s not something I want to see. Ever.”
Josy didn’t know what he was talking about, but that was okay. He sat down next to Quincy. “Sorry it took me so long.”
“Yes, well, you should be,” Gustavo said. “I forgive you. Quincy was telling me about his books. I asked him if he was as successful as Casey, but I didn’t get an answer.”
“That’s because it’s rude,” Casey said lightly.
Gustavo frowned at him. “How is that rude? I just wanted to know if he sells a lot of books. You do, and it’s something to be proud of. I wanted to know if we should be proud of Quincy too or not.”
Quincy rubbed the back of his neck. “I do all right.” He seemed embarrassed. And nervous. Granted, he pretty much always seemed nervous, but still. “Maybe not as good as Casey, but—”
“We write for different audiences,” Casey said, sitting down next to Gus. “There might be some crossover, but it’s apples to oranges.”
Gustavo scowled. “You know how I feel about fruit metaphors.” He picked up his water glass to take a drink.
Quincy glanced quickly at Josy, then looked back at Gustavo and Casey, a strangely determined expression on his face. “I don’t usually do physical copies of books, which is what gets you on the big bestseller lists. Most of my stuff is in e-books. But I sell my fair share, enough that I can do it full-time and be able to put some aside for the future.”
“That’s better than saving hostages at a bank,” Josy breathed.
Gustavo choked on his water, spilling it on the table.
Casey rubbed his back. “Okay?”
Gustavo nodded as he wiped his mouth. “Yes. Just went down the wrong tube.”
Josy leaned over to Quincy, their shoulders brushing together. Quincy looked over at him. His face softened. His eyes were bright and warm. Josy reached over and pressed his hand to the small of Quincy’s back. It was going perfectly. His mouth felt fresh and clean. Now all he had to do was whisper something interesting about himself. “I don’t like salamanders because wet lizards creep me out.”
Quincy gaped at him.
Josy nodded and rubbed his back once before pulling away.
Success.
INTERESTS!
It’s wonderful to learn something new. A piece of trivia or finding a new hobby can bring joy to one’s life.
When it comes to matters of the heart, it’s no different. Your potential romantic partner probably won’t like all of the same things you do. But if the guy you have your eye on suddenly starts expressing interest in the things you like, it could be a sign of intent.
Say that you’re a professional skydiver and the man is afraid of heights. It’s not okay to pressure him to do something he’s not comfortable with. But what happens when he comes to you and says he wants to jump out of a plane? It could mean that he’s willing to set aside his own fears and reservations so that you could do something together.
That doesn’t mean he has to do it. If it’s outside of his comfort zone, he might just be saying it to impress you. If you can see it makes him nervous or uncomfortable, you shouldn’t actually push him to do it. In the example above, if you can tell the idea of him jumping out of plane doesn’t sit well with him, reassure him that he doesn’t have to do something just because you do it. Thank him for volunteering, and then suggest a more suitable activity that both of you can do together.
You could say, “Hey, thanks, friend. But you don’t need to skydive just because I do. Why don’t we do something that we would both enjoy, like going to a nondenominational church picnic or searching for treasure with this treasure map I just found in a dusty book at the library.”
Trust me when I say you’ll be happier doing something you’ll both enjoy.
CASEY PASSED Josy the spliff, exhaling a thick stream of smoke.
And that’s when Quincy asked, “Is it hard? To hold in the smoke? I’ve always wondered about pot.”
Josy almost dropped the spliff on the carpet. He managed to burn the tip of one of his fingers. He hissed and stuck it in his mouth.
“You okay, man?” Casey asked.
Josy nodded. “Just slipped.”
They were sittin
g in the living room of casa de Gustavo and Casey. Casey had lit up but had first asked Quincy if he minded, as that was the polite thing to do when smoking in front of guests. Quincy had shaken his head, saying it was fine.
Gustavo wasn’t smoking. He sat in his recliner with an open encyclopedia (Josy thought it was the beginning of the R section), Harry S. Truman chittering at his feet as he played with a ball that had a bell inside. Casey sat on the arm of the recliner. Quincy and Josy were on the couch.
“It takes some getting used to,” Casey said. “I remember when I first started smoking, I managed to cough everything up. It didn’t help that it was ragweed, you know? All dry and seeds and shit.” He chuckled as he shook his head. “I didn’t know what I was doing. But you get used to it, especially when you have the good kush. Right, Josy?”
“Um. Yes?”
Casey stared at him funny. “You all right, man?”
Maybe. He couldn’t be quite sure. “Yep. Everything is fine. Everything is perfectly fine.”
“I’ve just never been inclined,” Quincy said, sitting back against the couch. Their knees were touching again. It was nerve-racking. “Smoking doesn’t appeal to me.”
Casey shrugged. “And that’s cool, dude. It’s not for everyone, though you don’t have to smoke it if you don’t want to. There are edibles and tinctures. Tablets too. But again, it’s about choice. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Quincy hesitated. Then, “I have a friend. Back in LA. He… he’s a little like me. Only it’s worse for him. Or it used to be, at least. His anxiety was devastating. And the SSRIs he was on didn’t help much. He got his medical marijuana card as a sort of last resort. And it changed so much for him.”
Casey nodded. “Yeah, it helps. Not everyone, of course. But it can. I was reading this story a few months back. There was this little girl who had terrible seizures. They couldn’t find the right combination of meds to stop it. We’re talking, like, twenty or thirty seizures a day. I can’t even imagine the kind of life she led. And medical marijuana wasn’t legal where they lived, but when the parents heard of cannibid oil, they had to try it. And since you have to have a residence in the state where you get your medical marijuana card, they had to move. Except the dad had a good job where their health insurance came from, so he couldn’t go with them. He stayed while the mom and little girl moved.” He shook his head. “The girl got cannibid oil, and the number of seizures she had were halved almost immediately. Once they figured out the right dosage, she had even less. And it sucks, because she had to leave a parent behind in order to get help.”
Quincy glanced at Josy, who sat with the spliff burning in his hand. “Maybe… one day. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. See if it’s something I want to try. I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”
“We should go to the church treasure hunt,” Josy blurted. “It’s nondenominational. Yay Jesus!”
Quincy stared at him.
Casey turned slowly to look at Gustavo, eyes narrowing.
Gustavo nodded sagely. “Sounds about right.”
SOCIAL MEDIA INTERACTION
It’s all about the Internet these days, isn’t it? Gone is the time when you would send a letter and have to wait a couple of weeks for a response. Now we’re connected to people from all over the world and can hear from them in a matter of seconds. It’s intimidating, but it also gives us an opportunity to speak to people and learn things that we might have not had the opportunity before.
Social media is at the forefront of these interactions, and even that is ever changing. Now, instead of emailing, we can Snap and Insta and Whisper and WhatsApp and Facebook and Twitter whoever we want! It’s a double-edged sword, because one doesn’t want to be too involved on social media. There are laws against stalking in place for this very reason. If you don’t believe someone returns your affection, it’s not socially acceptable to comment on their posts how attractive you find them, and that you wish you could smell their hair. Once again, that falls under HOW TO NOT BE CREEPY, in case you think you need it.
But it doesn’t hurt to look at his social media. If he’s active, it will be yet another clue into his interests. It also might show you if he’s talking about you at all. If he tags you in posts, it means he’s found something he wants you to see, or he’s talking about you.
For example: You get a notification on your phone. It’s from Facebook, telling you that he’s talking about and/or to you. You click on the notification and you see he’s tagged you in a post about tiger sharks, saying that you should watch this video of a feeding frenzy. When you watch it, you can either give the post a “like” or you can leave a comment. If you choose to comment, keep it simple but directed at what you were tagged in! It will show that you actually watched the video, and also are responding to some part of it. It could help too if you leave some kind of emoji at the end. If you feel like being a little flirtatious, you could leave a winking emoji. It will look like this:
“Wow, this sure is interesting! That’s a lot of blood and ripped flesh in the water. ;-)”
See how that works? It’s to the point, but also ends with something fun!
JOSY’S PHONE beeped three days before No-Thanks Giving.
He was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. It’d been a long day, and he was ready for sleep.
Until he saw the little Instagram icon in the corner of his screen.
Q-Bert tagged you in a post.
Josy stared down at his phone.
Quincy was downstairs on a conference call with Roger and a man in Los Angeles who would be editing the film. Roger had used him for multiple films, and he was going through the dailies, figuring out what takes worked the best. But here Quincy was, tagging Josy in an Instagram post.
Josy’s hand shook as he clicked the notification.
Instagram opened.
He didn’t know when the photo had been taken or who had taken it. Quincy had used a black-and-white filter, which Josy appreciated as an artist.
The photo was of Josy and Quincy standing in the woods. Quincy had headphones around his neck and a small smile on his face. He was looking at Josy, whose head was tilted back as he laughed. He remembered this. Quincy had told him that it was a big moment for Liam, that he was realizing he could have what his heart truly wanted. “And I really need you to sell it. Liam is realizing he’s in love with Dante, and it makes him happy. Mason’s not that bad, right?”
He’d laughed, because yeah, Mason was terrible.
And that’s when the photo had been taken.
There was a caption underneath.
Getting close to the end of filming my first movie with this guy. We’ve spent every day for the last month together. It’s going to be an adjustment not seeing him as much when it’s all over. @TheRealJosiahErickson, thank you for making this whole journey worth it. I can’t wait for everyone to see just how great you really are. You’re an actor of the highest caliber.
Josy’s eyes stung.
Only three people had told him that in his lifetime.
One was on parole.
The second smoked Virginia Slim 120s.
The third wore awesome suits and pretty makeup.
And here, now, was a fourth.
He double-tapped the photo. A little heart bloomed at the center, right between the two of them.
It hit him, then. It really hit him.
What this could mean.
What they could be.
The comment section was filling up. People excited about the movie. People happy to see Q-Bert looking so happy and healthy. There were a lot of heart emojis. He saw one that said I MET JOSIAH AT THE LIBRARY! I WAS TIGRESS, AND HE WAS SO NICE TO ME!
Josy wiped his eyes.
He gnawed on his bottom lip as he closed Instagram.
He pulled up the web app and went to Q-Bert’s website.
There was a new blog post from just this morning.
As Josy sto
od in the bathroom, toothbrush hanging between his teeth and toothpaste dribbling on his chin, he read.
From Q-Bert’s Blog
It’s been… daunting. This whole thing. I didn’t even really know it was a dream of mine until I was told it was something I might be able to do. I was a writer first, and that had already been a dream come true. Sure, my stories are absurd, and sometimes the allegories are as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face, but I was able to tell them the way I wanted to, the way I thought they should be told.
(Except for when my editors told me I was wrong. I listened to them. Mostly.)
There are times I wish I’d told you all about this whole movie thing sooner, rather than hiding behind my grandad. I wasn’t sure how it’d be received. I worried that people would laugh at me. Or tell me I couldn’t do it and was out of my depth.
Or that I should just stick with what I know. With what was working. I can write books. I can. I can sit down and tell a story. That’s easy, even if some days are frustrating as all hell. But even though no one actually told me these things, I thought what if? What if they did? How would I respond?
Even a few years ago, it would have destroyed me. Sent me spiraling into doubt and self-flagellation. I used to take reviews of my books to heart, and every bad one was like a spear in my chest. There was one I remember reading which said they couldn’t understand why I was popular, that I was obviously a hack and blah, blah, blah.
That one hurt. For days.
But I’m not that person anymore. These past few months have given me confidence I didn’t know I had. I still make mistakes. I still have moments where I doubt myself. But I have a group of people behind me that believe in me and this project. And that’s a funny thing, because I never thought it would be this way.
Mason Grazer is going to knock your socks off. He plays a bunch of different roles, and he’s a chameleon with every single one of them.