How to Be a Normal Person

by TJ Klune

  It was pretty much nailed on the head when Casey tried to swipe past a picture where Xander and Casey were shown holding hands, walking in what looked to be some sort of Pride Parade. Casey was smiling at the camera, but Xander was smiling at Casey with a look that Gus knew well. It was fond and sweet and absurd, and it was one Gus had given Casey many times, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Just the sight of it caused a gnarly curl of jealousy to spike in Gustavo’s gut. He’d never been the jealous type before. Well, he’d never been in a position where jealousy was a relevant emotion. He quite hated the feeling. It felt needless and petty.

  Gus could do this. He could play it cool.

  “Did you bone him?” Gus asked.

  Gus could not do this. He could not play it cool.

  Casey choked. “Say again?”

  “Um,” Gus said. “Nothing. Oh look, Cary Grant is running through the cornfield. Did you know that to film this scene, they had to—”

  “Gus.”

  “Yes, Casey.”

  “Bone? Seriously?”

  “Yeah. I regret ever using that word.”

  Casey put down his phone and cocked his head at Gus. “We dated.”

  “Great,” Gus said, even though it was not great at all. “I am so glad you’re one of those people who can be friends with your exes.”

  “Really.”

  Gus swallowed. “Yes. What does he do? Own a chain of independent coffee shops? Or does he work at an underground record store?”

  “He’s a tattoo artist. He did most of my sleeves.”

  “Even better,” Gus said. “Awesome.”

  “Gus.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It was, like, a year ago. We were friends before and now we’re friends after.”

  “Oh?” Gus asked, remembering to play it cool. “Ain’t no skin off my back, homeslice.”

  “Sure, man,” Casey said easily. “It lasted a few months, didn’t work out, went back to the way it was. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

  Gus glared. “I’m not worried about anything.”

  Casey leaned in, eyes wide. “You gotta know, Gus. You’re my one and only boo.”

  Casey laughed as Gus shoved his face away, demanding he never use that word again, oh my god.

  STEP 2: Pre-Meet Prep

  Yes, it can be scary meeting new people. Yes, it can be even scarier when it is the friends of your boyfriend. But remember, your boyfriend chose you for a reason, and he chose his friends for a reason, so chances are, at least some of those reasons will intermingle. Before you go, make sure to think up topics of conversation so there are no awkward pauses and/or silences. Plan on not overwhelming the conversation. Make sure to ask the appropriate amount of follow-up questions, but wait for the answers and don’t override someone else when they are speaking. After all, you want to give them opportunities to get to know the marvelous wonder that is you as well. You’ve got this! You’re ready to meet!

  Gus woke up the day of the meeting with a plan.

  He could do this.

  He could be the most normal sort of possibly maybe boyfriend in the history of the world.

  He said, “Today is going to be an okay day.” Then, “No. Today is going to be an awesome day and I’m going to be awesome and everything will be awesome.”

  He performed his exercise routine with great enthusiasm.

  His muscles burned, and he broke a sweat.

  He finished and stood.

  He tore the previous day’s inspirational message off and read today’s.

  You are a strong, confident individual and today’s the day you show it.

  “Fuck yeah,” Gus said, almost fist-pumping the air until he realized he was not a teenager in a John Hughes film and it was definitely not normal.

  “You got this,” he told his reflection as he undressed.

  “You got this so hard,” he told his reflection after he’d showered.

  He dressed with extra care, wearing Pastor Tommy’s nicest Hawaiian shirt he had, one that he’d actually purchased in Hawaii. It was deep ocean blue and the white print had flowers and vines that reminded Gus of Casey’s tattoos and—

  (“It was the first thing I bought myself on that trip,” Pastor Tommy had told him. He would be dead twenty-nine days later, but neither of them knew it then. He wasn’t yet in the hospital, but it was close. “I was twenty-six and off that plane, trying to find the nearest alleyway where I could light up and I saw this shirt, man. Just hanging in the window of this little shop. I thought it was the nicest thing I’d ever seen. The color, you know? It reminded me of the ocean. There I was, on a fucking island, surrounded by ocean, and my first sight of it was this shirt. I wanted that shirt. I needed that shirt. I went in and the shop keep—her name was Ailani—she said that it was for me, you know? That the shirt was made for me. I bought it, even though I couldn’t really afford it. I bought it and its color has never really faded. I think it must be a magic shirt, you know? It must be magic because a year to the day after I bought that shirt, Gus, a year to the day after, you were born. It was nice, man. The shirt. But it’s nothing compared to you. You’re still the nicest thing I’ve ever seen.”)

  “I’ve got this,” Gus said. “Because I am strong and confident and today is the day I show it.”

  He ate his apple.

  Harry S. Truman played with his pellets.

  They left the house.

  Casey came around the counter at the coffee shop and hugged him as tightly as he ever had.

  He said, “God, you look good, Gustavo.”

  Gus said, “Yeah, Casey. You do too, okay? You do too.”

  Lottie gagged in the background.

  Gus got his coffee and was ready for his day.

  He was so distracted at 11:54 that he didn’t hear the We Three Queens walking into the Emporium until they were upon him.

  “What are you looking at flashcards for?” Bertha asked.

  Gus screamed, the notecards falling out of his hand as he jumped.

  “Whoa,” Bernice said. “That certainly was high-pitched for a man.”

  “Gus is special that way,” Betty said as she scooped up the cards off the counter.

  “I’m not special,” Gus said stiffly, trying to calm his thundering heart. “And I wasn’t scared. I was doing an accurate impression of scream queens in horror movies from the 1980s. That was Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween.”

  “Uh-huh,” Betty said. “Gus, why does this card say so what are your thoughts on airplanes? And, as a follow-up, have you ever eaten turtle? I haven’t because that sounds disgusting.”

  “Uhh,” Gus said.

  “Oh,” Bernice said. “I want to read one.” She grabbed a card out of Betty’s hand and her brow furrowed as she read. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to go bowling on the moon? And, as a follow-up, do you like Diet Dr. Pepper? I don’t, because it tastes disgusting.”

  “Uhh,” Gus said.

  “My turn,” Bertha said, randomly picking out another card. “Have you ever gotten into a conflict that could have been avoided by a dance-off? And, as a follow-up, what is your opinion on Michael Bay? I think he’s disgusting.” She sighed. “Oh, Gus.”

  “This shit is hysterical,” Bernice said, flipping through more notecards. “Gus, in case you don’t know, you’re my third-favorite person in this room. And my first-favorite man.”

  “Thanks,” Gus said. “I think.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Bernice said. “We’ll take Harry S. Truman just like we planned. You’ll go and wow the boys at lunch, and then tonight, we’ll all get together for dinner, all of us in the same room, all of us with our individual personalities, and it will be fine.”

  Gus whimpered.

  “Cadet!” Betty said. “Inspirational message for the day!”

  Gus was now slightly hysterical because he was supposed to meet Casey and his friends at Lottie’s Lattes in fifteen minutes. Casey had texted him that they’d just gott
en back from picking them up at the airport in Eugene. “I am strong and brave and confident and everyone can see it!” he said, sounding anything but.

  “Damn right,” Betty said.

  “Hear, hear!” Bertha cried.

  “Did you find out more about DesRinaDale like I asked?” Bernice hissed. “Or am I gonna have to cut you?”

  Bertha and Betty glared at her.

  “Oh right,” Bernice said, rolling her eyes. “Now is not the time. It’s never the time. I’ll show you the time. You’ll see. You’ll all see—”

  “It’s going to be great,” Bertha said to Gus. “I promise. Casey adores you and if his friends are anything like him, they’ll see just how wonderful of a person you are, okay?”

  “And if they’re not like him,” Betty said, cracking her knuckles, “then we’ll make sure they’re run out of town by sunset. You belong to the We Three Queens, Gustavo Tiberius. No one messes with what belongs to the club. I’m not above taking a crowbar to some kneecaps if needed.”

  Surely Gus shouldn’t have been as comforted by that as he was.

  “It’ll be fine,” Bernice said. “You’ll see.”

  IT WAS not fine.

  Granted, it started out fine, but then it escalated rather quickly until Gus was in the middle of a situation he could only describe as what the fuck. And it totally wasn’t his fault.

  Well. Mostly.

  He told himself he wasn’t going to be intimidated as he walked that long, lonely walk from the Emporium across the street to Lottie’s Lattes. He thought he understood now what inmates must feel like while walking toward their execution. He tried to think back as to what his last meal would have been. He’d eaten the apple that morning. Oh. Barf Asschiladas TV dinner last night (he really needed to stop buying that). Casey had been writing, and Gus had been on his own. If he’d known, he might have indulged in some beef jerky after. Now, it was far too late. He was going to be hung in front of a firing squad while sitting in an electric chair and being lethally injected.

  Gus was not a drama queen. He absolutely was not. He was normal. Normal people didn’t almost have meltdowns over walking across the street and—

  He stopped because there was a small crowd gathered in front of Lottie’s Lattes.

  This couldn’t possibly be anything good. “What’s going on?”

  Margo Montana turned and eyed him coolly from the back of the crowd. “Hello, Mr. Tiberius. Impregnated any women lately?”

  “You keep quiet,” Gus hissed at her. “I brought the book back just fine!” And he had, after having read it cover to cover. He’d felt bad about checking out the book and not reading it, so he’d spent a few nights reading it instead of the encyclopedias. By the time he’d finished, he’d decided that having children sounded like it was very sticky and wet and therefore a terrible idea. Gustavo Tiberius did not like to be sticky and wet.

  “I know,” she said. “I wore rubber gloves when I went through it to check for damage. I was surprised. I expected it to be covered in evidence of your debauchery.”

  Gus groaned. “I don’t have time for this. What the hell are you all staring at?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

  “They’re like the cover models for the romance books I read,” Mrs. Havisham said, coming up beside Margo Montana. “I want to go inside and devour them whole.”

  “Gross,” Gus said, taking a step back in case whatever had infected them would transfer to him too. It had to be some new contagion he hadn’t yet heard of.

  “Seriously,” Mrs. Von Patterson said, face slightly flushed. “I’m old enough to be their mothers but I want to show them with age comes experience. And that wouldn’t be the only thing that comes.”

  “Please stop talking,” Gus said. “Now.”

  “They’re with Casey,” Margo Montana said. “Just talking with him.” Her eyes narrowed. “You know who they are, don’t you?”

  “You do?” Mrs. Havisham said. “You know them? Tell us! Tell us everything you know.”

  “You’ll have to warn them,” Mrs. Von Patterson said seriously. “When you go in there. Tell them this town is filled with cougars on the prowl. But that it’s definitely okay to feed the wild animals.”

  All three women curled their hands into claws, baring their teeth and hissing at him.

  “Bad touch,” Gus cried, trying to back away as they reached for him. “Bad touch!”

  “Seriously,” Margo Montana said. “I’d like to show them my bad touch.”

  “I’d like them to bad touch me,” Mrs. Havisham said.

  “They would look so good on my unicorn-printed sheets,” Mrs. Von Patterson breathed.

  Gus thought it prudent that he vacate the immediate area before he became caught in their menopausal crosshairs and was forced to participate in the stalking of prey. He decided the best idea would be to run the way he’d come from and to lock the doors of the Emporium behind him and wait at least three weeks before leaving.

  However, that didn’t quite work out.

  “Gus!” Casey said, coming out of the coffee shop. “Whoa. This is a lot of people.”

  “Meep,” Gus said.

  Casey pushed through cougar town and stood before Gus, that lazy smile on his face. “Hey, man. Thought I heard you out here. You ready to come in?”

  “Funny thing, that,” Gus said. “That business meeting in Uruguay got moved to right now. I have to fly out. Darn. I’m so sad that I can’t go inside with you. Bye.”

  “What business does he have in Uruguay?” Mrs. Von Patterson whispered.

  “And also, where is Uruguay?” Mrs. Havisham said.

  “It’s probably sex trafficking,” Margo Montana said. “And it’s in Africa.”

  “It’s not sex trafficking,” Gus growled. “And it’s in South America. Jesus. You work in a library. Open a book for once that’s not called Tawdry Confessions of My Cowboy Lover.”

  Casey’s eyes went wide. “Tawdry confessions of my what?”

  “I’m not very good at thinking up titles on the spot,” Gus admitted.

  “Are you kidding?” he asked incredulously. “That was amazing, man. I am going to write a new book just so I can use that as a title.”

  “New book?” Mrs. Havisham asked.

  “You’re an author?” Mrs. Von Patterson asked.

  “I work in the library,” Margo Montana all but purred. “I adore the written word. And your friends. Perhaps we could combine both somehow? They can write on me.”

  “That sounds nice,” Casey said. “But I’m asexual, Xander and Serge are gay, and Josiah is demisexual.”

  “I don’t know what any of that means,” Margo Montana said.

  “Demi means half,” Mrs. Von Patterson said, sounding very proud of herself. “He’s half sexual. Bisexual. He likes men and busty women like myself.”

  “Not even close,” Casey said. “Have a good day!”

  And he pulled Gus by the arm into Lottie’s Lattes.

  “That was awkward,” Gus said. “You should lock the door so they don’t follow you in and attempt to kidnap you to their older-lady sex dungeon. God knows what sort of horrors you’ll find down there. I bet everything is made of silicone, old copies of Cosmo, and desperation.”

  “Silicone, Cosmo, and desperation?” a voice said from behind me. “Well, then. This is certainly an interesting little town you’ve found yourself in, Casey.”

  Gus swallowed thickly and turned to face the hipster horde from hell.

  Goddamn fucking alliteration.

  Chapter 16

  STEP 3: The Introduction

  Okay, you’ve done your homework. You’ve prepped fascinating and interesting topics of conversation. You’re dressed to impress (but not overwhelm!) and you’re confident without being cocky. Remember, it might be intimidating, but your fella surely wants you to be impressed by them just as much as he wants them to be impressed by you.

  It can be easy to appear standoffish or
reticent. This can lead to the opinion that you’re nothing but a bitchy dick. But, if you do the opposite, it’ll appear that you’re trying too hard, and no one likes a kiss ass. It might be difficult to find that happy medium, but you can do it! Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable, however. This should be a safe, positive experience that will be the start of new friendships that you will treasure for the rest of your life.

  Here is an example of how to act:

  “Hi, my name is Joan. It’s so nice to finally meet all of you! Eduardo has told me so much about this particular group of people that I feel like I know you all already. You must be Tim, right? How did your discectomy surgery go? And you must be Oliver! Eduardo told me you were a bit of a devious rascal and I can see that’s true! And finally, you must be Belinda. I hope we can be friends because I’ll sure need someone to gossip about these boys with!”

  Here is an example of how not to act.

  “Yo, I’m Joan. You’re welcome for showing up. Eduardo, get me a beer, babe. Yeah, I almost like watching him go as much as I like watching him come. You Timmy? Yeah, Eduardo said you got a crooked back or something. Can I see your gross stitches? Oh, and Oliver. Eduardo talks so much shit about you behind your back. I can see why. Belinda, Belinda, Belinda. I don’t like you and I haven’t even heard you speak. I swear to god if you even look at Eduardo funny, I’ll cut you, bitch. In the words of the indomitable Brandi and Monica, that boy is mine.”

  See the difference?

  IT WAS Josiah who’d spoken, and it was Josiah whom Gus saw first. Josiah, he of the villainous mustache that Gus absolutely did not want to make fun of to his face. Gus was not completely socially inept, mostly. He understood niceties and what they meant. He was even capable of performing basic functions of being a human being.

  But he was fucking nervous. Nervous Gus was not the most reliable Gus there was. He said stupid shit. He acted ridiculous. Nervous Gus was definitely not Normal Gus and Gus needed this moment to be as normal as possible.