Adulting 101

by Lisa Henry

  Harry Potter is a wizard.

  Vader is Luke’s father.

  Neo is the one.

  And what’s Nick’s truth? That he’s scared of going to college.

  Fucking pathetic. No way in hell does a truth like that deserve a close-up shot, an orchestral swell, and a tortured Mark Hamill screaming, “Noooooooo!” as he clutches at the stump of his wrist.

  “’M sorry,” he says again, his voice a dry croak.

  His mom purses her lips. The skin at the corners of her eyes tightens up like the “before” picture for some sort of magic wrinkle cream.

  His dad stirs creamer into his coffee and scrapes the spoon against the inside of the mug. He takes the spoon out and taps it three times against the rim, like the chimes of a tiny bell announcing the next round in the boxing ring. It’s a fight that Nick is woefully underprepared for. The sort where he’ll just sway, punch drunk, while his opponent gets in all the hits.

  “How are you feeling?” Chris asks, which is not what Nick was expecting at all.

  He shrugs, because he doesn’t think his parents really want to hear about how much his self-inflicted hangover hurts. Like, he won’t win any points by trying to milk it. Even if it is probably the worst hangover that anyone in the history of the world has ever suffered. Nick’s pretty sure it is. Even thinking about blinking hurts.

  His dad regards him briefly over the rim of his coffee mug before slurping some down and then setting the mug on the table again. “You should take some more Tylenol and get some more sleep.”

  No, this is definitely not what Nick is expecting. It throws his already struggling brain into confusion. He doesn’t know what this is—if it’s his dad making an overture, finally treating Nick like an adult who is allowed to make his own admittedly stupid decisions and suffer the consequences, or if his dad is setting him adrift somehow. Cutting his anchor rope and letting the ocean pull him away. Not coldly. Not cruelly. And isn’t that what Nick wanted? Except maybe he’s not ready to go yet. Maybe he’s not ready to stop being a kid, even though it rankles every time his parents treat him like one.

  “Yeah,” he says and crosses to the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of water and turns it over in his clammy palms. “I’m really sorry,” he says again, even though he’s not sure what good it will do. He’s not even sure what reaction he wants.

  His dad’s expression is as unreadable as before. “We’ll talk about it later, Nick.”

  “Okay,” Nick says. “Okay.”

  He retreats upstairs and back to bed.

  Jai: Everything ok?

  Nick: I guess. I have the hangover from hell though.

  Jai: I meant with your parents.

  Nick: I know. Same answer.

  Jai: Give me a call if you want to talk.

  Nick: K. Will probably just sleep more though.

  Jai: Ok.

  Nick sits on the end of his bed and stares at the neat stack of storage boxes in the corner of his room. He’s supposed to be filling them soon and taking them to Ohio State, where there will be forms to fill out, and an assigned dorm room waiting for him, and timetables and classes and mundane things that for some reason he finds so fucking terrifying. He’s going to be one of those kids who buckles under the pressure, he knows. Because that’s what he does. This one time in junior year, he didn’t prepare a talk he was supposed to give in English. So he skipped school that day. And then, because he knew he’d be in trouble for that, he skipped the next day as well, and the day after that. College is going to crush him. It’ll be worse than all those times in high school, because this time Devon won’t be there.

  Nick’s not stupid exactly. He’s just . . . He’s really bad at dealing with pressure. He’s never told his parents that, because it’s too late now and it will just sound like another excuse. He’s never told them that sometimes he’s not just dodging his responsibilities because he’s lazy and forgetful. Sometimes he lies awake all night thinking about them, until they grow so large in his mind that he just . . . can’t.

  He’s spent so much of his life pretending that he doesn’t really care when he screws up that he’s pretty sure at this point nobody will believe otherwise. Except Devon, probably. Devon knows Nick better than he knows himself. Devon absolutely knows that Nick isn’t kidding when he posts the video of “Wind Beneath My Wings” to Facebook and tags him in it, even though they both play it like it’s a joke.

  No. No, Nick is absolutely not going to cope at college on his own.

  He scrubs at his wet cheeks and tears his gaze away from the boxes.

  Stupid dumb boxes.

  Stupid dumb Nick.

  His mom comes up to check on him once, and he pretends to be working on his web comic. Instead he’s just scouring the pad with his pencil, digging the point in so much that it leaves deep furrows in the paper.

  “Nick?”

  He stares at his pad. “Yeah?”

  “Nick, if you didn’t go to college . . .”

  Her voice is more tentative than he’s used to hearing, and he glances up before he can stop himself. She looks anxious, the lines across her forehead as stark as those he’s leaving on the paper. She looks middle-aged. She is, of course, but this feels like the first time he’s seeing it. When did those wrinkles appear in the corners of her eyes? When did that streak of gray in her hair show up? Why isn’t she the woman he remembers from when he was a kid? They’d laughed a lot back then. He remembers she used to take him to the park, and hold him up so he could reach the monkey bars.

  She purses her lips for a moment, and then her breath escapes her in a sigh. “If you didn’t go to college, what would you do?”

  That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? God knows he can’t hold down a job.

  “I don’t know,” he says, his voice catching. “I didn’t know I was supposed to have it all figured out by now.”

  “Oh, Nick.” She sits down beside him. “You don’t have to have it all figured out.”

  Nick thinks of Olivia, future pediatric surgeon. He kind of hates her a bit, to be honest. All jealousy of course. Not because he wants to perform delicate surgery on even more delicate little human beings, but because Olivia’s got a plan, and Nick could really use one of those.

  “This isn’t about your boyfriend, is it?” his mom asks quietly.

  “What?” He snaps the point of his pencil in surprise.

  “I mean, do you not want to go to college because he won’t be there?” his mom asks. She’s keeping her voice even, like this is dangerous territory and Nick is a wild animal she’s managed to corner.

  “Jai’s got nothing to do with it,” he says. “Honestly, Mom. This is how I’ve felt for a while now.”

  “You didn’t say anything.”

  He shrugs. What was there to say?

  His mom smiles brightly, but he can tell she’s forcing it.

  No, I will not let these clouds spoil my picnic. No, I will not admit the glass is half-empty. And no, my precious little angel is not skirting close to a complete mental breakdown when he thinks about the future.

  “This is just nerves, Nick. Everyone feels like this, okay?”

  “Okay,” he echoes. Echoes are hollow, right? So are empty vessels.

  Movement at the door snags his attention. His dad’s gone the moment Nick catches sight of him, and Nick wonders how much he heard. Could have been worse. At least Nick didn’t call him boring this time.

  “Okay,” his mom says, patting his shoulder. “Okay! I’ll let you get back to your . . .”

  They both look at his scoured sketch pad for a moment.

  “To whatever you’re doing here,” his mom finishes.

  Nick nods and picks up a fresh pencil. He drags the point across the page roughly, leaving a jagged scar behind.

  Jai doesn’t see Nick again for a few days. They text, but it’s a shallow form of communication, and Jai isn’t sure how much he can trust Nick’s assurances that he’s doing okay, however many smile
y face emojis he attaches to his messages. Jai is kept busy with work. Devon’s not the only unreliable teenager working at Pizza Perfecto. Apparently now that summer is winding down, the kids who are gearing up for college aren’t afraid to blow off a few shifts here and there for one last chance to hang out with their high school friends. Jai’s not complaining. It’s more money for him, right?

  Pauly isn’t totally happy about the situation. He’s okay with the kids messing around as long as the customers get their food on time. But it pisses him off when his staff doesn’t bother to turn up at all.

  Well, as pissed off as Pauly ever gets.

  “Aw hell, I was a kid too once,” he mutters. “And not that long ago, thank you very much! I know what these idiots are like. But if I said I was gonna turn up to a job, I turned up!”

  Jai’s finally found something Pauly cares about.

  On Wednesday Jai works a morning shift, finishes at two in the afternoon, and finds himself at a loose end. He offers to take Caden and Noah to the nearby park before dinner to give Kat a chance to unwind.

  Caden is sitting on the swings. He’s not swinging. Noah is attached to his legs like a sturdy little anchor, making squealing noises because he wants his big brother to pick him up and let him have a turn too. Jai is pretty sure it’s going to end in tears one way or another.

  Jai’s distracted from the impending disaster by the unexpected arrival of Nick.

  Nick looks good. He’s wearing faded jeans and an even more faded T-shirt. His hair is mussed up as though he’s only just crawled out of bed. He wheels his bike over to the bench where Jai is sitting, drops it on the grass, and sits down.

  “Hey,” Jai says.

  “Hey.” Nick squints at Caden and Noah and waves at them. “I, um, I swung by your house, and your scary sister said you were here.”

  Jai snorts. “Jesus. I’ll bet you got the third degree, didn’t you? She’s as bad as my mom.”

  Nick shrugs. “It was okay.”

  The park is pretty empty, apart from an old woman walking a little dog along the edge of the grass. They’re both moving slowly, the leash hanging limp between them. It’s probably the weather, Jai figures. It’s an overcast day. Not exactly perfect park weather.

  “How are things with your dad?”

  “Awkward.” Nick’s mouth quirks into something too brief to be a proper grin. More of a grimace, maybe. “Whatever, though. It’s fine.”

  It’s clearly not. Jai reaches out and curls his fingers through Nick’s. “Sorry.”

  Nick squeezes Jai’s hand a little tighter.

  From over by the swings, Noah screams in outrage as Caden finally snaps and pushes him away.

  “I’d better get this.” Jai stands up and heads over to the boys. “Caden? You need to give Noah a turn too.”

  “No! I want to go high!”

  “Caden. Come on, buddy.”

  There are three swings. One is supposed to be a baby swing, but it’s broken. If Noah wants a swing, someone will have to hold him. And Noah wants a fucking swing. He’s about half a minute away from total meltdown.

  Caden isn’t far behind. “You said you’d push me high, Uncle Jai!”

  The chains on the swing set squeal as Nick sits down on the swing beside Caden’s. He holds a hand down to Noah. “You can swing with me, huh, Noah?”

  Noah gulps down a wail and glares suspiciously at Nick. Before Noah has time to object, Jai leans down, scoops him up, and sets him in Nick’s lap. Nick holds him and uses his feet to push the swing into motion. Jai, meanwhile, gets behind Caden, grabs the seat of his swing, and draws it back as far as he can.

  Caden laughs when he lets it go, and Jai sends him higher with each push.

  Meanwhile, Nick and Noah swing gently beside them.

  It’s weirdly comfortable. Have Jai and Nick ever spent any time together and it’s not been about sex? Not that they’ve had sex every time, but the promise of it has always been there, the anticipation. Hell, sex was the entire reason they started hanging out, whether they got to it or not. So this is all new.

  Jai likes it.

  He pushes Caden once more, and Caden squeals with breathless delight.

  He catches Nick’s gaze, and Nick looks away like he’s suddenly shy.

  Jai’s not sure what it means, but it’s nice.

  Kat: Nick came here looking for you. Did he find you?

  Kat: I gave him directions to the park but I’m not super confident of his ability to tell left from right.

  Kat: Why aren’t you answering me?

  Kat: You should invite Nick to dinner.

  Kat: What’s with the radio silence, little brother? Are you too busy cavorting in the park with your new boyfriend?

  Kat: If you don’t answer me, I’ll start to think you’ve abducted my children.

  Kat: What’s wrong with me? Feel free to abduct my children anytime.

  Kat: Should I tell Mom to set another place for dinner or not?

  “So,” Jai says as they head back to the house. He’s pushing Noah’s stroller, and Nick is holding Caden’s hand.

  “So?” Nick asks.

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

  Nick flushes and ducks his head to hide a grin. “Um, okay. If it’s fine with your mom and stuff.”

  Of course it’s fine with Janice. From the moment they get back to the house and Jai mentions that he’s asked Nick to stay, Janice focuses on the pair of them with the precision of a laser. Kat’s not much better. And Ronny, who would usually be Jai’s laid-back savior in moments like these, isn’t helping much either. It’s not his fault. It’s because Nick keeps getting tongue-tied and calling him Mr. Green. He’s also got a terrified look in his eye, like he’s half-afraid Ronny can still spring a pop quiz on him.

  Nick texts his parents to let them know he won’t be home for dinner, and Jai notices that he doesn’t wait for a response. Just slips his phone into his pocket and goes straight back to being intimidated.

  “We don’t stand much on ceremony here,” Janice announces. “But hell, it’s about time we used the dining room table instead of eating in the kitchen. Jai, go and clear the dining room table.”

  Jai throws her a look. He’s pretty sure the dining room table hasn’t been cleared since Christmas. Christmas of 1996.

  “I’ll help!” Nick exclaims eagerly.

  The dining room table is piled high with Janice’s sewing gear—“Goddamn it! This looked so much easier on YouTube!”—as well as a half-completed jigsaw puzzle, a teething ring, a stack of old magazines, and a tub of salon supplies.

  “I think they’re auditioning for the next season of Hoarders,” Jai says.

  It’s easy enough to clear away most of the stuff. Jai shoves what he can into the plastic tub and sets it on the floor in the corner. He puts the sewing machine down with it, dumps the magazines next to it, then prepares to sweep the jigsaw back into the box it came from.

  “No! It’s half-done!” Nick exclaims. “You can’t just shove it back in there. It’ll break. You need to get a piece of cardboard or something, and move it onto that.”

  Jai heads down to the basement and comes back with a sheet of plywood. He holds it flush with the edge of the table while Nick carefully shunts the jigsaw onto it.

  “My grandma used to do jigsaws,” Nick tells him. “Like, all the time. She had this really cool mat you just rolled everything up into, but she never really used it. She just left the puzzle out on her table, and whoever was walking by would stop and work on it for a bit. This one Thanksgiving, it was huge—all my uncles and aunts and cousins were there—and we finished a ten-thousand-piece puzzle in three days. It was sort of cool.” He catches Jai’s gaze and the color rises in his cheeks. “Okay, it sounds kind of lame the way I’m telling it.”

  “No.” Jai sets the plywood on the floor carefully. “I think I know what you mean. Sometimes it’s the little things that connect us.”

  “Yeah.” Nick smiles and fiddles with a pu
zzle piece. “And we used to play cards as well. She taught us how to play canasta. That’s something we’d do on holidays too. Nobody watched TV after dinner. She’d get this thick green blanket out, and that was the tablecloth for cards. And everyone would sit around and play and talk for hours.” He shrugs. “It was like this special thing. We only did it at Grandma’s house. When we were back home, sometimes I’d ask my mom and dad if we could play, but it’s not the same with only three people.”

  “Is this the same grandma who collected porcelain thimbles?”

  “You remember that!” Nick’s smile grows. “Yeah. I only really had the one grandma. I mean, I had another one, but she died before I was born, so I never even got to meet her.”

  “She sounds pretty amazing,” Jai says.

  Nick starts to sweep the stack of pieces into the box. “I guess? I mean, not to anyone else, probably. She was just a normal person who did normal stuff. Like, she never dived into a burning building to save a bunch of orphans or anything, but she was pretty amazing to me.” He pauses, flipping a puzzle piece over in his hand. “At her funeral there were only six people there who weren’t family. They had this guest book thing. It’s probably not called a guest book. And only the first page got used. That was kind of more upsetting to me than anything.”

  Jai puts a hand on his shoulder.

  Nick shakes his head and grins. “Wow. That all got a bit weird, didn’t it? I mean my grandma was really cool is all, and just because she never walked past a burning orphanage and got the chance to prove it to the rest of the world isn’t fair.” His brow wrinkles in a frown. “Except for the orphans, I guess. They’d be pretty glad not to get their house burned down.”

  Jai isn’t sure how to respond to that. Luckily Nick doesn’t seem to require a response. He pushes the last of the puzzle pieces into the box, then sets it on top of the magazines.

  “Nick!” Janice calls from the kitchen. “Get in here and tell me if you won’t eat any of these vegetables!”

  “I’ll try anything, Mrs. H,” Nick calls back, heading down the hall toward her.