FicWad

Weeks passed. Zoe didn’t call again. His mom did, saying how they were all visiting his grandma for a few days and wouldn’t be visiting that weekend. Said his progress reports looked good. Better.

“Connor.”

He was in his room, reading, after dinner, feeling too worn out to spend time in the rec room. One of the nurses was standing at his door. He looked up to see a nurse standing in baby pink scrubs outside of his door.

“Your caseworker wanted to speak to you quick.”

He got up and followed her to the caseworker’s office.

“Come in,” she said, setting aside some paperwork. “I wanted to speak to you before the end of the day. Have a seat.”

He sat.

She was looking at his file. “It looks like you’ve been doing well, participating in group, no more behavioral issues. There is just one thing I wanted to ask about.”

“Sure.”

“You know we’ve had to ask Jason to leave the program.”

Connor shook his head. He didn’t know. They had stopped talking. “We don’t really talk much anymore.”

“Ah,” She said, smiling. “Well then that is good news. It was mentioned that the two of you had been spending some time together when you first arrived.”

Connor frowned and said nothing.

“Well, then, pending a urine test, it looks like you’re on track to graduate.”

“What?” Connor sputtered.

“You’ve completed sixty seven days already,” She said. “And you’ve improved greatly. The notes I’ve received from Claire and Rebecca say you really seem to be taking your sobriety seriously. So it looks like you should be on track to go home before the end of August.”

Connor stared. “Oh.”

“Connor,” the case worker said, leaning over her desk and smiling. “This is good news.”

He doubted that sincerely.

He walked back to the rec room, feeling like he wasn’t really there. Home. He was going to go home. In less than a month. He’d probably have to go back to school. He’d.

He was doing so math quickly in his head because a thought had just occurred to him. Dave got here two weeks before he had. Dave.

Ought to be finishing. Soon.

Connor threw himself on the abandoned couch and spaced out through half of a rerun of The Office . He got up restlessly, finally walking to the smoking porch where he found Dave laughing with Gina.

“Hey,” he said in this voice that sounded low, detached, not his. “Can I talk to you?”

Dave looked surprised, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Yeah kid what’s up?”

Connor shoved his hands in his pockets. “Privately.”

Gina’s eyes got wide, but she held them up in surrender, put out her cigarette, and headed back inside.

Dave smirked. “What’s got a bee in your bonnet, princess?”

“Knock it off with the pet names. I don’t like them,” He said. Connor sounded stupid. Small. Whiny.

“Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were graduating?” He’d meant that to be an accusation but it came out pathetic, wimpy, pleading.

“Shit,” Dave said. “How’d you find out?”

“I can count ,” Connor said. “And I just got called in and told that apparently I’m getting out in like three weeks which means… You got here two weeks before me. I can count.”

“I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice suddenly having a brand new roommate?” Connor said. “I… what the fuck?”

Dave looked sheepishly down at his feet. “I’m… I haven’t told anybody. Not my family or Aletheia or Allie or Tasha or anyone. You’re literally the first to know.”

Connor stared at him. “Then who’s going to pick you up?”

“I don’t know!” Dave laughed. “I’m freaking the fuck out, man. I’m not sure I’m ready to go.”

“Why? This place is a fucking nightmare.”

“Yeah, well, so is not being here,” Dave said, shaking his head. He looked less… imposing then. He looked like he was scared and confused and young and that the beard and the tattoos were a front. Connor thought he looked weirdly familar, like he’d met him before in a different setting and never realized it. “I have. Fucked this up twice before. Like seriously fucked it up. And if I fuck it up again, my family, Aletheia, my boss… then they’re all done with me. And I. That’s a lot of fucking pressure.”

“So don’t fuck it up again?” Connor said, but it made him sound like an asshole. “Sorry I. I’m sorry.”

“It’s. You’re right. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Connor said.

“No it fucking isn’t!” Dave was laughing sort of hysterically. “And. Look, okay, I just. I didn’t want to deal with you and your little puppy dog eyes looking all lost and hopeless that I’m leaving okay? Sorry, that was… a shitty thing to do, but I’ve been kind of panicking here. I’ve known for a couple of weeks and I keep sort of hoping that… that there’s something that can keep me here. Make me like, super extra sober. And I just… I didn’t need you looking at me like that. Like I’m you sobriety Jedi master or whatever. I do not have all of the answers.”

“Sorry.” He looked down, face burning, stupid, so stupid, stupid stupid stupid how stupid could he be it was fucking Jared all over again he was an idiot fuck fuck fuck… He was so stupid making this about himself when obviously Dave didn’t care, he was worried about his own shit, of course he was, of course, he was so fucking stupid.

“Look,” Dave was putting out his cigarette. “I’m. I’m sorry. I should have told you when I found out.”

Connor shrugged. He needed to get out of here, drag the staple over his wrist, find Jason’s stash, stop feeling stop all of it.

“Kid -” Dave stopped. Tried again. “Sorry. Connor, look, I don’t… This doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”

The words that flew out of his mouth were far more real, honest, vulnerable than Connor was prepared to deal with. “We’re… we’re friends?”

Dave gave him this pitying look. “Yeah, dude, we’re friends. I like, care about you and shit. All that mushy stuff that freaks you out because your dad doesn’t believe in hugs.”

Connor coughed out a laugh.

“Look, you said you live like… fifteen minutes from where I work. We can hang out sometimes if you want or whatever. Get coffee, go to a don’t-do-drugs meeting. Maybe if Aletheia still likes me we can con her into cooking for us sometime. She’s seriously like a genius in the kitchen. Oh, and I can meet your parents! And they can hate me because I look like I’m in some sort of lumberjack gang, and I’ll bother your dad because I love a good hug. It’ll be fun.”

Connor smiled a little. “Thanks.”

“You can handle two weeks without me,” Dave said.

“Yeah, obviously,” Connor said, but it still made him feel less like finding something to hang himself with in the showers. Not much. But a little less.



It wasn’t a great day.

His mom called, and Connor took the call because he got the stink eye from the nurse who grabbed him when he dragged his feet.

“Hi mom.”

“Hi sweetheart. How are you?”

“Alright,” he said, staring down at this shoes. “Um. I’m supposed to tell you that I’m… I’m going to, um, graduate in three weeks.”

“Oh, Connor, that’s wonderful!”

It certainly didn’t feel wonderful. He swallowed. “Um. Yeah.”

She went on for a while. Said she was so proud of him. He wanted to swallow glass. He couldn’t deal with that. He was scared to leave. To go back home. To go back to school.

“Honey?”

“What?”

“I said, your dad and I were thinking of coming up this weekend.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Saturday was Dave’s last day.

“We’re trying to convince your sister to come with us…”

“Don’t,” He said shortly.

“Connor, I just want the two of you to -”

“Mom, I’ve got to go.”

“Oh, alright honey, I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”

“Bye.”

In their room, Dave was starting to pack things up. He had a suitcase that he was filling with jeans and flannels.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You look like shit,” Dave said.

Connor shrugged. “I feel like shit.”

“Mom called, huh?”

Connor flopped himself on his bed. “She’s proud of me, apparently.”

“Shit.”

“You tell anyone yet?” Connor asked.

“Yeah. Aletheia is picking me up.”

“Oh.”

“My parents are sort of annoyed, actually, because Dana has a piano recital that day and I didn’t tell them until the last minute. She’s hoping to go to this magnet school for high school in a few years and the recitals are important and… yeah. Aletheia’s coming to get me Saturday morning.”

“You… cool? With your girlfriend picking you up?”

“She’s got a name,” Dave said, sounding annoyed.

“It’s kind of a weird name,” Connor said cruelly.

Dave chucked a pillow at his head. “Stop being a brat.”

Connor, to his own surprise, actually laughed.

“I’m fine with her picking me up,” Dave said. “But we’re… probably going to have to have a few long conversations, which. You know. Will be tough.”

Connor nodded.

“But I’ve already been set up with a therapist and found a couple of meetings nearby. And I’m supposed to start back at work soon too.”

“How badly are you freaking out?”

“I’m basically shitting myself,” Dave said, smiling bitterly. Then, brightening, he said. “Hey wait. Give me your number.”

“What?” He’d been without his phone for so long that he kind of forgot about having one.

“Your phone number. So I can text you once we’re both out.”

Connor blinked a few times, then got up. Dave was shoving a notebook and pen at him, Connor printed his number as neatly as he could manage.

Dave smiled. “I’ll text you.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

Dave was smiling. Connor frowned.



“How are you doing, though?” Dave asked, hours later, once it was lights out.

“I’m sleeping,” Connor complained. He wasn’t sleeping, not even close, but he didn’t want or need Dave knowing.

“Bull. You’ve seemed spacey. Everything okay?”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Bull. Quit lying.”

“Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off.”

“But it’s better if you do,” Dave said with a laugh. “My brother listened to that shit for a minute there. All that Panic at the Fall Out or whatever.”

“Hmm.”

“I uh. I still have his old iPod? It’s like a classic one, with the clicker wheel? Are you even old enough to remember those?”

Connor sighed. “I dunno.”

“Anyway… it got wrecked, in the crash when he died. But I kept it. It doesn’t work, and the screen is broken, but I held onto it.”

“That’s… cool. Of you to do.”

“I dunno,” Dave said. “I was asking about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“So?”

“So, like. That sucks. What can I do?”

Don’t leave, Connor thought, don’t abandon me here.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, look,” Dave said. He switched on the lamp, and pulled out that same notebook that Connor had written his number in a few days before. He scrawled out some digits, but Connor couldn’t read them without his glasses. Dave ripped it out of the notebook. “Here’s my number.”

“Okay?” Connor said, squinting at him.

“I want you to call me if… Just call me, if you’re not fine.”

“Why?”

“Well, shit kid, because I worry.”

Connor scowled at him. “Don’t.”

“Try and stop me,” Dave said, and Connor could tell he was smiling even if he couldn’t see it.



Dave was leaving.

Dave was leaving rehab.

And Connor was absolutely freaking out. Not that anyone would know. In their last group therapy session, Claire singled him out.

“You and Dave have spent a lot of time together. How are you feeling about his transition out?”

He shrugged. Arms crossed. Eyes on the floor. “I guess, um. I’m happy for him?”

Dave winked at him across the room.

“But. Um. It kind of sucks too, I guess?”

“Why’s that?”

Because I’ll miss him. Because he’s my only friend. Because I’ve never had one before. Because I’m not ready to be alone again.

“Well I won’t have anyone to bum cigarettes off of anymore.”

Everyone tittered with laughter. Claire frowned.

Connor looked at Dave. “He’s my friend, I guess? So like. It kind of blows that he won’t be here. But it’s good, you know, that he’s going back to real life.” He was lying, pretty aggressively. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t okay, he was freaking the fuck out that Dave was going to go and he’d be stuck in here, alone, and it would suck. But it didn’t feel as shitty as lying to his parents or whatever. He felt like he was doing it for an okay reason. Or whatever.

Group ended. People lined up to hug Dave goodbye. Connor realized, with dread, they might expect that of him in a few weeks’ time. That would suck.



“You want to hang out a little while I wait for Aletheia to get here?” Dave asked him. Connor looked up from his book, the one he was barely reading. Dave had just come out of his last individual session, one which dragged him away from breakfast at 8:30.

Connor set down his book. Shrugged.

Got up anyway, and ended up pulling one of Dave’s suitcases to reception. Connor didn’t even remember getting packed for rehab; he imagined his mom must have done it for him. He wondered who had packed Dave.

“Do you have a place to live?” Connor blurted.

Dave turned to look at him, looking bewildered and a little amused. “Yeah. I’m going to stay with my Uncle Zach until I find an apartment.”

Connor nodded. Dave was grinning. “What?” Connor mumbled, annoyed.

“Nothing,” Dave said, but he was smiling this huge smile. It made Connor wish he could shrink into himself before Dave said something weird and all sharey-carey.

Connor waited with Dave in the lobby. A few other people were around; Dave’s therapist, Claire the group facilitator, Gina who played chess with Dave sometimes.

Connor knew it was real when they handed him back this phone. Connor found he was surprised to see it wasn’t totally dead. He didn’t ask if someone had charged it.

And then immediately pulled out a torn out piece of notebook paper, typed Connor’s

number in, and sent a text that said “it’s Dave bitch” followed by a bunch of emojis. He showed it to Connor, like he was proving it was real. Connor still wasn’t sure he believed it.

“You text me when you get out, okay?

He nodded. A car pulled up out front, parked right outside the doors.

Aletheia, the girlfriend, arrived at the door not long after. She had her pretty brown hair in a ponytail, and Connor noticed, like really noticed, that for a girl she was… pretty buff. Like she looked like she could bench press him with ease.

Huh.

“Hi,” She said to Dave, almost shyly. And he said hi back. And Connor felt like there was this hole in the pit of his stomach that was sucking all of the good and positive shit out of the room into a void where it would disappear forever.

“Aletheia, this is Connor,” Dave was saying, and Connor found himself shaking her hand while Dave explained that they’d been roommates. Aletheia, for her part, seemed to be able to keep the bugging eyes and raised eyebrows to a minimum. He got it a lot, people being surprised by him… he was the youngest person in there.

“Ah, so this is the one you got into trouble with,” Aletheia said, smiling a little. Like she was teasing.

“You’re making it sound like summer camp,” Connor complained. He didn’t mean to, of course, but the words just sort of… happened.

Dave laughed though. So Connor tried to smile, like it was a joke, like it was a why did the chicken cross the road situation.

Dave went over a handful and last minute things with the staff. Then he was hugging Gina, and Claire, and his therapist goodbye.

And Connor was about one hundred and fifty percent sure he’d never see him again.

“Connor, come help us with the bags for a sec?” Dave said, casting a look at Claire quickly to get her approval. Connor thought that was stupid; it was two suitcases and Aletheia could handle them herself if she wanted.

But he grabbed one and followed them out to the waiting car anyways. Dave loaded his bag and immediately grabbed a seat on a bench, tying up his shoelace.

“Okay,” Aletheia announce once the bags were in the car. “Dalton made me promise to make you take a picture.”

Dave rolled his eyes.

Connor muttered something about summer camp.

And before he knew it, Dave had hauled him into the picture too, yanking him down on the bench by his elbow. Connor grimaced as he heard the photo click, worrying about his greasy hair and the way his ears stuck out when it was up and the fact that he’d slept like shit for weeks and was squinting in the sun.

“What’s the picture for?” Connor asked.

“To remind me not to end up back here,” Dave said, smiling, almost cheerful.

“That’s idiotic.”

Dave shrugged. “Maybe third time’s the charm.”

Aletheia smiled at them, then checked her watch. Dave seemed to know that meant it was time to go.

“Alright kid. Fuck,” He shook his head. “Sorry, my brain defaults to that or princess. I know you hate it.”

Connor shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

“Text me the second you get out. No jokes, the second the phone is in hand, I expect to hear from you.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t do any fucking drugs.”

Connor smiled. “Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“Alright, alright. Jesus.”

Dave smiled. “I’m going to hug you now.”

“Do you have to?” Connor said.

Dave sighed. “Well no. But I figured if I asked for one, you’d be weird about it.”

“Point taken.” He let Dave hug him anyway; a bro hug, lasting like .5 seconds.

“Okay. See you soon.”

“Yeah. Sure. Bye.”

Aletheia waved, saying good luck. Connor said thanks. He watched them drive off and headed back inside. Claire was waiting anxiously to remind him that they’d have an additional group session that evening to talk about the transition.

Connor, however, locked himself in a bathroom stall. Shoved the collar of his shirt into his mouth. He let himself freak out for a minute, just one, just so he didn’t actually punch anyone or kill something. He banged his fist against the tile, pleased with the pain that shot up his hand, his arm.

Then he wiped his face, found it mostly dry, and went to wash his hands.

He went to his room. Just his now. And picked up his book. Within a few minutes, a nurse grabbed him to say that his parents were there to visit.



The last two weeks were utter torture. Connor felt like his brain was banging against his skull, and everything seemed to make him anxious. His jaw ached when he woke up in the morning; on Monday his new roommate (an overly thin tweaker named Jake who was probably about Connor’s age and had a pierced nose) complained that he was grinding his teeth.

His individual therapy with Rebecca felt awkward, because he’d spent the whole time he was there lying through his teeth about his fucked up hellscape of a brain, and now that it looked like all of that nonsense had been bought, he sort of wished he’d never said any of it.

He wished the therapist had never believed him.

He couldn’t fucking do this. He wasn’t trying, he didn’t get sober, he just… was sober.

He lied and lied and pretended to be fine but he wasn’t. He wasn’t fine but now it was too late.

Claire kept calling on him in group, because it was one of the people who had been there the longest. He hated it. He hated pretending like his leaving would impact any of the other people in this room. He was like a shadow, something impermanent and unreal that didn’t stick in the brain. They’d all forget him.

With one week to go, Connor got a phone call from his mom. She sounded upset.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi mom.”

“I know we’d… we’d talked about all of us doing dinner the night you get home, but, your sister can’t seem to get off of work. I’m so sorry. She’s really trying to swap shifts with someone, but she hasn’t had luck yet.”

“You don’t have to lie mom,” Connor said, his voice coming out more tired than he meant it to. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart… this has just been hard on Zoe.”

Hard on Zoe. Right. Hard on her. “I understand. It’s fine, really. I’m not mad.” He wasn’t even mad. He was just. He just. Expected this now.

“We’ll see you next Saturday, okay?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”



Connor was surprised, with four days to go, to receive a call from Dave of all people.

“Hey princess, how’s it going?”

“Fine,” He said. “How’s life on the outside?”

“Scary,” Dave said with a laugh, “but overall not so bad sober. You might want to try it.”

“Sure.”

“So, I’m calling because Aletheia and my family are throwing a little welcome back, thanks for not being a drunk asshole all the time anymore party for me on Sunday. I know it’ll literally be your second day out, so I get if you’ve got better shit to do, but if you don’t then you should come.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Like… a party?”

“More like a… like imagine a kid’s birthday party, but without the pinata?”

Connor hadn’t attended any birthday parties since the third grade when the rule about having to invite everyone ended. “Okay…. I’ll. Where is it?”

“The tattoo parlor. I’ll text you the address, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Talked to your sister yet?”

“Not yet,” Connor said without conviction. He wasn’t even trying to talk to her. He hadn’t been trying the whole time he was here. He didn’t do trying. Mostly he’d just sort of accidentally happened into this whole sobriety thing by following Dave around like a pathetic lonely puppy. He’d probably fuck it up the moment he got out of here.

“It’ll happen. Just give her some time.”

“Talked to your sister yet?” Connor countered.

“I saw her yesterday. Tried to talk to her, but she mostly just ignored me. It sucks, but she has a right to be angry so I’ll… just keep trying.”

“That’s noble.”

“Yeah right. I should have been doing it for years.”

They hung up after that. Connor was starting to get a stomachache from all of the optimism that Dave was spewing.



His parents picked him up on Saturday morning. His mom fussed over him, and his dad drove. He loaded Connor’s luggage without saying much.

Gina showed up to say goodbye, and his therapist and Claire, but it wasn’t the joyful affair that it was with Dave. There was a sense of disapproval in their goodbyes; like a threat, like an unspoken don’t let us see you here again.

Not. Fucking. Likely.

They handed back his phone, and he was surprised it wasn’t dead. They must charge them, Connor thought. He stared as he watched a few texts float in.

Three months without a phone, and he had a grand total of five missed texts.

Four were from Dave, two from that morning saying, “Are you out?” both times. The first was the one where he explained it was Dave. Another with the address of the tattoo parlor. He texted back, “Out now.” Just so he wouldn’t keep getting more from Dave.

The last was from his weed guy. Connor deleted it.

Look mom, no drugs.

Connor’s mom tried to sit in the backseat with him, and Larry grumbled “Jesus Christ Cynthia, he’s not a newborn.”

It was a rare moment of agreement between the two of them.

A summer of rare moments.

Larry agreeing with Connor. Zoe agreeing he should kill himself on the day he left.

Would the wonders never cease.

His mom reluctantly climbed into the front seat, but she spent a good portion of the ride

turned around, trying to talk to him, asking if he wanted to stop for lunch on the way home. He shrugged. Eventually when he couldn’t take her hopeful eyes on him anymore, he mumbled that he was tired and closed his eyes, head against the window. She was quiet then.

He did that. She was so happy to see him and he was hurting her feelings because he just sucked at this.

He felt like he was going to be sick when he saw his dad was turning onto their street. His entire plan for the rest of his life was to slink upstairs and sleep.

“We’re home!” His mom practically sang.

Connor tried to conjure up a smile for her, but it came out wrinkled and dead, dried up.

He followed his parents inside, grabbing his own bags. His dad didn’t wait; he just went in the house.

Connor caught his mom’s face, her deep frown. “Welcome home,” She said, looking crestfallen.

Connor waited. Followed her in the house. Waited again. For the lecture, for the new rules, but his mom just rushed after his dad when the door to his office closed.

Connor carried his bags up to his bedroom. His room looked mostly the same, but he could tell that they’d gone through his stuff. His bong was missing.

He sighed.

Shoved his suitcases into the corner.

And threw himself on his bed.

Why was he surprised? Why was he surprised?



He woke up an hour later, to his mom tentatively knocking on his door. He’d drooled on his pillow. Fantastic.

He sat up and blinked at her.

“You really shouldn’t sleep in your contacts,” She said.

He frowned.

“I thought we could go shopping.”

He stared at her, bewildered. “Why?”

“School is starting soon, and your clothes…” She didn’t say anything rude, really. The gap was probably just “are all from the army navy surplus store and you’re embarrassing me” but she didn’t spit it out. “I just thought it might nice to get some new things for your senior year.”

He pictured her dragging him through the mall, the whole standing outside of the dressing room and trying to make him show her clothes thing. He didn’t want to fucking do that at all.

But she was looking so sad and mom-like, and Connor inexplicably thought of Dave and his not-shitty parents coming to visit him and how they were able to talk and things weren’t total bullshit and he found himself saying, “Sure. We can go shopping.”

She looked so happy, he wanted to puke.

Ten minutes later, they were strapped in his mom’s SUV. And Connor was regretting everything already. She’d switched on some classic rock station and started singing along to Joy Division like this was some kind of peak mother/child bonding and Connor genuinely started to think about just tucking and rolling out of the car. Like thanks for the reminder you used to have a soul, mom, but no thanks.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying not to hear “love will tear us apart” in his mom’s warbly soprano, trying to just think about not being such a shitty kid for like a fucking minute for a change.

“So… how was your summer?” he tried. He knew it fell super flat, he caught her eyes flick over to him in surprise in the rearview mirror.

“Oh!” She said. “It was… alright. I. I did some volunteer work…”

“That’s cool. Doing what?”

She started talking all about how she had put in some hours at a food pantry downtown, and how she was volunteering for a rape crisis line. “I used to do that in college, but then you kids… anyway, you’re older now, so I thought…”

“That’s… really cool mom,” Connor said, trying super hard to sound like he meant it. Which he did. Like. Trying to help people was, like, a good thing.

Though part of him was also stupidly, like, jealous. She’d take calls from strangers and talk about their shit, but she couldn’t even look at him, her kid, in rehab. It didn’t seem fair. But maybe not knowing them was better.

He wondered if she’d give more of a shit, if she’d try harder if he was just some random kid she’d pulled out of that old garage at the end of May.

They got to the mall and he was really starting to fucking regret this. He was going to fuck this up, he was going to do something stupid.

“Where should we go first?”

He shrugged. “You pick. I don’t… know stuff about clothes.” That wasn’t strictly true. He just prefered shopping at thrift stores because people didn’t fucking look at you there.

She headed off toward some department store, the kind that was stuffy and full of perfume salespeople and clothes that looked like stuff his dad would wear.

They debated some jeans for a while. His mom pointed out that most of his jeans had the knees torn out. He didn’t even know why, he didn’t think he fell enough to warrant it. He shrugged, shuffling off with three pairs to the dressing room. He knew his mom was waiting outside, but he wasn’t coming out to show them to her. That was too embarrassing, even for him. The first pair was way too short; he could see his entire ankle. The second pair fit okay, but they were baggy, and he didn’t want that. The last pair were okay. Dark gray, right style, not too short or too big.

He changed back, holding the pair that fit. “These are okay.”

“I wish you’d shown me how they fit,” His mom said, frowning.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you were out here.” Lying to his mother, like always.

She smiled then. “Okay. Want to get two pairs? Since you like those?”

“Sure.”

They ended up in an H&M next, where his mom convinced him to buy a gray flannel. She tried to ask if he needed new underwear, but he was pretty sure he died of embarrassment before she finished asking. She dropped it, thankfully. They went through so many stores that Connor started to think his mom needed to go to rehab for a shopping addiction. He was exhausted.

As she dragged him through a J.C. Penney, Connor caught a glance of someone who looked vaguely familiar, like from school, looking at a pair of khakis, and finally begged his mom to take him home.

“Please,” he said, trying not to sound whining or horrible or any of the things he knew he was. “Sorry, it’s...I’m just.. I’m really tired, and these clothes are really nice…”

“Oh, sweetheart, sure.” She gave him a painful looking smile, like her lips were closing over spikes instead of teeth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry, honey. This should be enough to get you through the first week of school at least.”

He nodded. They headed off to the car, and Connor tried hard to just. Be normal. Be not a moody, pathetic junkie.

The ride home was silent, apart from the quiet sounds of Nirvana that his mom was clearly playing trying to please him. He wanted to appreciate it. He wanted to be moved by this small way she was trying to make him happy. But he just didn’t have it in him. He had nothing to give her, just a wrinkled smile and pathetic sad eyes.

When they got home, Connor took the new clothes upstairs. He put the bags next to his suitcases. He couldn’t unpack. He wanted to collapse.

“You’re back.”

He turned, looking at Zoe. The blue streaks that had been in her hair were gone, leaving behind some blond pieces.

“Uh,” he said stupidly, caught off guard, his brain completely blank, slick, nothingness none of those coping mechanisms and game plans he’d worked out in the last few weeks. “Hey.”

“Yeah. Hey,” she said back, rolling her eyes. “How was rehab?” She was so clearly being sarcastic, spitting fire at him, and whatever stupid pathetic coping mechanism might have lingered in his mind crumpled.

“Fuck you,” he said, very little venom in it.

“Fuck you!”

He slammed the door in her face. And waited for the footsteps on the stairs, the charge of his dad coming to shout at him.

Nothing happened.

Eventually his mom knocked to get him for dinner. It was tense. The food was better than when he left; apparently they weren’t Buddhists anymore. His dad never looked up from his phone. Zoe didn’t eat, just swirled her peas into her potatoes into her steamed kale thing.

“We’re so glad to have you home, Connor,” his mom said.

The proclamation was met with total silence from his dad and Zoe.

Connor swallowed, practically choking, his throat trying to close. “Thanks.”

Nobody said anything else.



His mom didn’t think he should go anywhere.

“You just got home, honey, I think right now should be family time -”

“Family time?” Zoe scoffed over her toast, sitting at the table. “You mean when we all sit in separate rooms on our phones, ignoring each other?”

“Zoe, honey, that’s not…” She looked helplessly at his dad, who shrugged. “Well where is that you want to go?”

“The library.”

“It’s Sunday.” Larry, chiming in, helpful as always. “Aren’t they closed?”

“They have extended summer hours,” His mom said, frowning. “I… well. I. Larry, help me out-”

“Let him go,” Larry said.

“He just got out of rehab, do you really think that’s best idea?”

“Mom,” Connor said, mumbled, rasped. “I just want to go get a few books.”

“Fine,” She said, throwing up her arms, clearly upset. “Go. Just go. Your keys are on the hook. Be back before it’s dark, Connor, and text us to check in every couple of hours, I’m serious-”

He was gone before she could change her mind. He actually did go to the library, just as a cover. Dave texted to confirm he was coming, and he said he was, and as soon as he sent the message, Connor didn’t know why.

Why was he going?

Dave was his friend. Or so he said. Dave invited him. It was probably a joke.

He got in the car after a tragically short hour at the library, following the directions on his phone. He realize driving was weird after a three month break. But there was an unopened pack of cigarettes still in the glove compartment so at least there was an upside.

The drive wasn’t too long, fifteen minutes at best, but once Connor spotted the tattoo parlor he circled the block four times, trying to convince himself to park. Just park and get it over with. Just park.

He didn’t want to be doing this he didn’t want to do this.

His phone buzzed as he finally picked a parking spot a few blocks away.

It read: “There’s this blue car circling the block. Hope it’s you and not a hit someone put out on me.”

Connor replied, “Could be both.”

But he turned off the ignition and ran a hand through his hair, got out of the car, straightened his stupid clothes - hoodie, vest, t-shirt, jeans - and checked to make sure his shoelaces weren’t untied. He snapped the hair tie on his wrist a few times, until his wrist stung, and started to walk.

His head was a fucking mess, he was imagining a Carrie level bullshit scenario, pig’s blood and all, and just. Why was he doing this? He didn’t do parties, or people…

He walked up the to the tattoo shop, with a sign on the door that read “closed for private event” and he was seriously just going to need to turn around, to just fucking leave, and then the door opened. And Dave was there, all bearded and smiling, and he said hi and Connor said, “Uh-” and then Dave basically picked him up and carried him inside. Connor sputtered and tried to protest but then he was inside and there were all of these people, happy chatty people, and all this art on the walls and a sign that said “congratulations” and Connor was pretty sure he was going to lose it.

Dave just kept talking, pointing out that there was food, introducing him rapidly to people that Connor couldn’t get straight in his head - Dalton, Dana, Tasha, Allie - and then he was sitting on a sofa, staring at his phone, trying to just… process.

Too much too soon he wasn’t cut out for people.

Naturally, a moment later Dr. Brikowski took a seat beside him. “Hello again Connor,” She said, smiling at him.

“Uh… hi Dr. Brikowski….”

“How is being home?” She asked, and she was smiling, and she was being too nice.

“It’s… it’s alright?” It sounded like a question. “It’s weird.”

She smiled. “I can imagine.”

He tried to smile at her, look polite not like a total psycho, and it didn’t make sense that he was here, with this family, this happy, relatively normal family.

“Are you hungry?”

He wasn’t, but he nodded.

“So am I, let’s go get something to eat why don’t we?”

So he followed Dave’s mom around, listening as she explained how Dave’s girlfriend had done most of the cooking, insisting that he tried a little of everything. His plate was absolutely loaded, and he’d never actually eaten that much in his life, and then Dr. Brikowski was off talking with one of the people Connor had met.

“Sorry,” Dave had reappeared. “I had to make sure I talked to some people before they left.”

“It’s cool.” He shoved a forkful of some kind of salad thing into his mouth because chewing meant not talking.

“Yeah, I mean, it was cool of them to even come at all…”

Connor nodded. Finished chewing. Swallowed. Wondered if he actually liked quinoa or if he was just used to eating it at this point. “How’s… um? How’s being back?”

Dave actually smiled. “I found an apartment.”

“Awesome,” Connor said, trying to smile. He probably had kale in his teeth. “Is it close by?”

“Yeah, it’s a couple of miles from here, so I can like… walk in the summer or whatever.”

“Cool. Are you back at work?”

Dave nodded. “Yeah, I went back last week. It was weird, not having done it for a while… Allie’s watching me like a hawk, which is fine.”

Connor nodded. Shoved more food into his mouth. Pushed more food around. Picked some broccoli out of his food.

“Did I just see you pick broccoli out?”

Connor looked up. Dave’s girlfriend, Aletheia, was frowning at him. “Wh-what?”

“The food, did you just pick out some broccoli?”

There was a camera flash from the other side of the room. Connor blinked in surprise. “Um…” Connor’s eyes slid over to Dave, who looked like he might start laughing. “Yeah.”

“You look like you’re going to get scurvy.”

“What?”

“How often do you eat vegetables? Whatever it is, you need to double it. Unless it’s never, because then you need to start introducing them right now.” There was another camera flash. “You should eat the broccoli.”

“Um.”

Dave got up, hugging Aletheia from behind. “Connor, did I mention that Aletheia is a nutritionist?”

“Oh,” Connor said. “Um. Cool.” Yet another camera flash.

Alethia grinned. “Sorry, I’m totally the mom friend. I keep sneaking spinach into smoothies and giving them to my friend Katie.”

Connor kind of smiled back at her.

“It’s not to like, properly meet you,” She said.

“Oh. Um. You too.”

“I’m a hugger,” Aleathia said and Connor started to say he wasn’t, but then she was taking his plate and putting it down and hugging him and another camera went off, and Connor’s heart rate skyrocketed.

“Is someone taking pictures?” He asked, pulling away slowly and trying to sound like it was just a picture and not something making him feel like he was going to explode.

“My brother Dalton is really into photography,” Dave said, smiling fondly at a kid with a curly mop of hair wearing a Dunder Mifflin shirt.

“Oh. Cool.”

He was going to die here in this tattoo parlor.

Dave led him over to like, introduce him to Dalton again, who seemed to be trying to figure out just what the fuck Connor was doing there. Connor was also wondering the same thing.

“So you two were roommates?”

Connor nodded.

“How’d you put up with the sleeptalking?” Dalton asked, smiling a little. “We used to go camping every year and it would keep us all up all night.”

Connor smiled back a little. “I just tune him out even when he’s awake.”

Dave gave Connor a playful shove, smiling. “Snot.”

Dalton started to ask where Connor went to school, and he muttered, “Oh I uh go to Central, sorry, I’ll be right back...” and he faked needing to use the bathroom so he could duck outside and smoke. Because socializing was fucking hard.

It was warm outside, and sunny, and Connor realized how he wasn’t used to being alone but wasn’t used to be around people either.

“Caught you.” He heard a minute later.

“Fuck off,” Connor whined at Dave.

“It’s cool, I was gonna come out anyway.” He lit his own cigarette. “I’m quitting these next.”

“You’re not going to be any fun anymore,” Connor teased and Dave shoved his shoulder a little.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Fine,” Connor said. He took another drag on his cigarette and realized he’d literally never considered quitting. He’d probably fuck it up anyway. He was only sober on accident. “Having fun at your party?”

Dave nodded, “Yeah, I guess. It’s a weird fucking party.”

“It is.” He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. “Your girlfriend is nice. Intense though.”

“I know, right?” Dave said, this sort of weird dreamy look overtaking his face. It sort of made Connor want to puke a little. “She’s just… perfect.”

“You get the food lectures too?” Connor asked.

“Please, of course I do. If left to my own devices, I will eat nothing but Chipotle.” He chucked. “But I always get veggies, so that’s something.”

Connor snorted.

“She’s got me going to the gym with her sometimes, though, which has been surprisingly fun.”

“Please tell me you’re in a zumba class,” Connor said, laughing.

“Zumba can be fun,” Dave said. “I gotta stand in the back though. Too tall.”

That cracked Connor right up. “You’re serious!”

“You’ve got to stop living in this world where gender defines everything, even exercise,” Dave said, still smiling. “Mostly I’ve been doing some lifting, but yeah, I’ve gone to a fucking Zumba class. I danced to Ricky Martin and it was super fun.”

Connor laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes.

They finished smoking, and Dave asked Connor if he wanted to come back inside. “You

totally don’t have to. I get that this is a lot of new people and you’ve been home for like a minute.” Connor went inside anyway.

Dave pulled Connor into a conversation with Allie, his boss who owned the tattoo shop. She rolled her eyes at Dave a lot, but she didn’t look at Connor like something that ought to be squashed. Instead, halfway through the conversation, she looked at Connor and asked who did his ears.

“Oh.” He looked at Dave quickly.

“Because if they were done at a Claire’s, you might as well just take the studs out now and try again. They’ll give you problems for the rest of your life.”

“No,” Connor said, shaking his head. “No, no it…” he trailed off mumbling some bullshit about a friend of his mom’s. Like his mom would know not to get your ears pierced at a Claire’s. That’s definitely where Zoe got hers done as a kid.

“Allie is really committed to doing things the right way,” Dave said, smiling at her.

“Hey, I know what works.” She smiled at Connor, who was sort of looking a photo of someone’s intricate owl tattoo on the wall. “That’s Dave’s,” she said, smiling. “How long until you’re old enough to be here, then?”

“What?” Connor asked, bewildered.

“Kid, there are people who want tattoos and people who consider them. I can always tell. So how long until you’re eighteen?”

“September.” He said. Quiet.

“Great, make sure you tell Dave. He’ll probably give you a birthday discount.”

Connor pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands, thinking about his mutilated arms, frowning. Yeah, sure. He’d be tattoo ready in two and a half weeks.

Get real.

The party was okay, honestly. Once he got used to all of the people. Aletheia got on him about vegetables again when he jokingly asked her if green skittles counted. Dr. Schwartz and Dr. Brikowski both asked after him, asked how his parents were doing, insisted that they give Connor their numbers so he could give them to Larry and his mom if they ever wanted to talk to other parents who had done the whole rehab rodeo already.

Of course, throughout all of this, Connor noticed that this kid, this girl, standing in the corner staring at her phone was sometimes… was staring at him. It kind of freaked him out. She was young, like probably still in grade school, judging by the fact that she was wearing overalls and pink Keds and was shorter than everyone here by at least a foot and a half. Connor thought that Dave’s sister was in middle school at least….

But she kept staring, and Connor kept looking back and seeing her looking at her phone and feeling like, really paranoid, like she might be… he didn’t know, taking his picture and making fun of him in a group chat with her friends or something.

“Sorry about Dana,” Dr. Brikowski said after a while. “She’s having a hard time with Dave being back.”

“Oh.” His mind jumped to Zoe, to the night before, to slamming the door in her face and her glaring at him through dinner. “Yeah, that… I get that.”

“She just doesn’t want to even talk to him, so we’re giving her space.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

After a few more times catching Dana looking at him, Connor… he didn’t know what to do, this twelve year old was staring at him so... He went to say hi. Like. He couldn’t fuck up that badly saying hi to a twelve year old, right? Maybe he could practice not being crazy.

She looked very surprised when he crossed the room toward her. He half expected she’d run away and then, great, now he scared Dave’s twelve year old sister like Jesus Christ could he ever just be fucking normal?

“Hey,” He said, approaching cautiously. She hadn’t run, but her face looked pink. “You’re Dana right?”

She nodded, her phone still in her hands, looking a little dumbstruck. “Yep, yes… yeah.”

“I’m Connor,” he said, like wincing because yeah this is how you interacted with children

totally.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks. Nice to meet you too.”

Twenty five seconds of painful silence. Connor sighed. “So… your brother, um, Dave, he… said you play piano?”

Her eyebrows flew up. “He did?”

“Yeah, he mentioned you had a couple of recitals and concerts over the summer. That’s… cool.”

Dana shrugged. “I guess.”

“No, it is. I heard you’re really good.”

“How would Dave know?” She said, frowning.

Connor frowned. Okay, so that… didn’t work. “I used to play piano, um, actually?”

Her whole face seemed to light up. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, regretting saying something. “Until high school?”

“How come you stopped?”

He shrugged. Dana seemed to be waiting eagerly for an answer, but telling her “I got super pissed at my piano teacher, threw a fit in his living room, smashed his bench and tried to flip his baby grand” was not twelve year old appropriate. The seconds ticked by awkwardly, and Connor tried to invent a polite reason to just… not be standing near her anymore. “It didn’t really… fit with my schedule.”

“Oh.”

Another pause.

“I like your hair,” She said suddenly.

Connor tugged on a piece of it self consciously, thankful he had actually washed it this morning. “Thanks. Your, um, outfit is cool.”

She blushed then. Her face went totally pink. Connor’s brain was like a siren, shrieking ABORT MISSION. “Thanks.”

“It was really nice to meet you,” He said quickly, hurrying off toward the bathroom for real this time. Jesus Christ.

When Connor exited the bathroom, he was relieved to find Dave, talking to Tasha and Aletheia, talking about a piercing that Tasha had done for a five year old little girl. “She was so cute,” Tasha said. “She told her mom she wanted a nose ring next.”

“Adorable,” Aletheia said, smiling.

“Is it ethical to pierce someone under the age of consent?” Dave said. “I still feel sort of iffy about that.”

Connor snorted, and Dave glared at him, and Aletheia smiled a knowing smile. Connor decided that he liked her. He didn’t know why. Something about her not being scared to scold him and smiling at Dave for the idiotic ear piercing… He liked her.

“I need to get going,” Connor said after a while. He’d watched a few other people leaving, noticing, a little uncomfortable, that a lot of them said “Love you, bye” as if it was the most casual, normal way to leave a party. He decided to go before his awkwardness turned into his own special brand of acting like an asshole.

“Sure thing, yeah.” Dave clapped him on the shoulder and Connor found himself worried he was about to get a “love you, bye” too.

Dr. Brikowski, who had been standing nearby insisted that Dalton take a picture of Dave and Connor before Connor went home. They snapped one, under the banner that read “Congratulations!” and then Connor ducked out.

Dave waved him off after, telling him, somewhat affectionately, “Don’t do drugs.”

He felt okay on the drive home. He hadn’t done anything stupid, or awful. No drugs, no booze, nothing. The sun was still up, so he was obeying his curfew. He’d been okay.

First time for everything.

He got home to find his parents sitting around the kitchen table, both of them on their phones.

“Oh my god,” His mom said, “Chris, he’s here. I’ll call you back.”

“What’s going on?” Connor asked, slowly.

“What’s going on?” Larry repeated, looking livid. “You said you were going to the library.”

“I did,” Connor said, holding up the two books he checked out.

“We’ve been calling you since five ,” His mom said, looking close to tears. “The Harrises brought over food for dinner, and you didn’t pick up. And we called the library, and they said you left hours before. Where have you been?”

Fuck .

Connor bit down on his lip. “I was…”

“You’ve been home for less than two days,” his dad said, his voice shaking with rage. “Are you high?”

“ No ,” Connor said, indignant.

“So then you’re just stupid,” Larry continued, “because only an idiot wouldn’t remember to check in with their parents the day after they got home from rehab !”

“Fuck you!” Connor said, blood pounding in his ears, breathing getting faster, hands curling into fists, thumbs on the outside. He started to walk away, before he hit something, before he lost it.

“Do not walk away when I’m talking to you!”

“ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!” Zoe’s voice, screaming from up the stairs, followed by the sound of a door slamming.

Everyone paused for a second. Then, shooting a dirty look back at his dad, Connor rushed up the steps to his bedroom, slamming the door as hard as he could manage. A second later, he heard the sound of glass breaking, but he didn’t get up to investigate what had broken.

Because part of him thought it was just… him. He was the broken thing. He was broken. He picked up the library books he’d check out and hurled them against the wall. Knocked over his desk chair, swept everything off of the desk, sending a lamp flying so the light bulb shattered against the wall. Everything he saw in his path, he destroyed. An old little league participation trophy, chucked against a wall where it exploded on impact. He knocked down the stand for his old electric keyboard. He kicked the foot of his headboard so hard that it cracked and leaned sideways. He slammed his fist against the mirror that hung on the back of his bedroom door, and watched as a spiderweb crack grew for a few seconds before the glittering glass cascaded onto his bedroom floor, several pieces digging into his skin. And the whole time there was this unholy, awful rushing sound in his head, this howling and screaming like terrible wind and it was only once he was on the floor, in front of his broken mirror, panting and out of things he could easily break that Connor realized that he had been the one making the noise. He had been screaming. His throat burned. His eyes burned.

He should have never come home.

He didn’t come out of his room at all the next day. He peed into his empty garbage can and refused to unlock his door when his mom knocked. He knew it was gross, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t go out there. He couldn’t look at them, see what they all thought of him. Especially not after that morning, when Zoe and his mom had a huge blow out right outside his door after his mom knocked.

“Why do you even bother? He doesn’t care that you’re freaked out.”

“Zoe, please,” He heard their mom say. “I need to make sure he’s alright.”

“He’s never alright,” Zoe said, “he’s a fucking psycho!”

“Zoe!”

“I mean it! He’s crazy, he’s literally crazy , and I can’t stand being around him -”

“Zoe, that’s enough!”

“Why did you even let him come home?” Zoe had demanded. “He’s an addict and mean and a fuckup psychopath, and he hates everyone, why would you let him come back here?”

“Because he lives here, he’s your brother-”

“That’s not a good reason! He’s ruining everything, and he’s only been home for two days.”

“He’s just having -”

“I swear to god mom, if you try to say it’s just him adjusting, I will throw up. It’s crap and you know it.”

“Zoe-”

“I’m going to stay a friend’s tonight. I can’t fucking be here!”

“Watch your mouth, young lady!”

“I will when you tell him to watch his!”

There was a slamming door, and Connor could hear both of them crying. He felt like he’d swallowed acid. And refused to leave his room. Even when his mom knocked again. Even when his dad threatened to take the door off the hinges (an empty threat, it turned out).

At five in the morning on the second day of Connor’s self imposed exile, when his throat was dry and the smell of piss was starting to get to him, he crept quietly out of his room, gross garbage can full of pee in his hand. He felt like utter shit. He had dried blood on his hands and arms and feet and legs from the shattered mirror. He hadn’t slept.

He was really discomforted to see that the door to the guest room down the hall was closed. That meant one of his parents had slept there.

He dashed to the bathroom before he woke someone up. He gulped down some tap water from one the tiny dixie cups his mom put out, meant to measure out mouthwash. Once in a fit of desperation not to feel something, he’d drank some mouthwash, hoping that the alcohol in there would at least give him a buzz. It didn’t. His second hope was that there was enough flouride to kill him. That didn’t work either.

Connor washed out the garbage can. Pissed in a real toilet. Brushed his teeth, having found a new toothbrush under the sink. Decided to shower.

Crept back to his room, dressed in his dirty clothes because the thought of being caught shirtless, naked by anyone in his family was too much to handle.

“I thought I heard you get up,” his mom’s voice said. She was in his room already, sweeping up the shattered glass.

He set down his garbage can in the hall, standing there barefoot, glaring at her. She quirked an eyebrow at the garbage can, but didn’t question it.

“You wore those clothes already.”

Connor shrugged.

His mom sighed. She was wearing slippers. She crossed to his overturned dresser, drawers hanging open, and collected some clothes for him.

“Get dressed and help me clean this.”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“Good. Then we’ll have all day to discuss your punishment.”

Connor rolled his eyes, but turned back to the bathroom to change. His mom had picked an old t-shirt, super old, that was a little too short and a little too tight around the chest. Connor pulled his dirty hoodie over it.

He and his mom cleaned up his room in silence. She swept up glass; he righted the furniture. She collected books and pens and notebooks that he’d thrown around and put them into neat piles; he picked up the curtains he had ripped down and clothes he had thrown about and returned them to their rightful places. He and his mom disconnected the broken headboard. Within a couple of hours, his room looked livable again.

They didn’t talk the whole time.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” She finally asked him as they finished up by vacuuming the floor to make sure not glass was missed.

“I’m not used to checking my phone anymore. It was on silent.” He didn’t say he was sorry.

“Things can’t go back to the way they were before you left.”

“Fine.”

“I want you to be honest with me… did you get high on Sunday?”

He shook his head. “I was just reading.”

She frowned.

“I took the books to a park.”

His mom sighed. “Fine. But this doesn’t happen again, do you understand me?”
He nodded, trying not to roll his eyes.

“I just want you to be safe, honey.”

“Sure.”

She shook her head, like she was disappointed. She walked out his bedroom door. Connor looked after her, his head buzzing with static.

His brain flashed back to years ago, the thing he didn’t talk about, his mom didn’t know about, the bathroom floor smeared with blood, his dad slapping him awake and cleaning him up and sending him back to bed. The crushing disappointment at making it through the night, at his dad swearing not to say anything…

He swallowed.

“We’re going to start checking your phone and emails.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Well neither was scaring us half to death on Saturday.”

“I’m almost eighteen!” He said, whining, petulant, childish.

“Then you should act like it.” She shook her head and left him alone.

She wasn’t actually going to do that, Connor decided. There was not way she’d bother to check his phone.

He looked at it now, and opened up the browser.

Typed in the phrase “most lethal suicide methods.”

And started to read.



He made it four days out of rehab before he bought weed off of a sophomore behind the Starbucks. He ended up buying Dave lunch so that he didn’t buy any more fucking drugs. Dave thought that was kind of funny. The whole time they ate, Connor worried that Dave would just… know something was going on, and get all Dave about it. Try to talk about feelings or whatever. But he didn’t, and Connor hung around the tattoo parlour that afternoon. He kind of just hung around, half watching Dave tattoo a set of stars behind a girl’s ear. The whole time he chatted with her, asking her if she was in school or whatever. She mentioned taking a gap year before college, and Connor sort of got lost in the buzz of the tattoo machine.

Dave got off of work at six, and announced to Connor that they were going to a meeting.

“Why?” he asked.

“So we don’t do any drugs idiot. Come on.” Connor reluctantly stood up. “Tell your parents where you are too,” he added, waving to Allie and Tasha and heading out the door.

Connor had a rule about that. He didn’t tell his parents shit. That was the whole rule. But he needed to avoid another meltdown like Sunday, so he texted his mom that he wouldn’t be home until later. He didn’t say where he was or what he was doing. But he texted her.

Dave seemed to like NA meetings for whatever reason. He liked to tell people about how he’d been sober since rehab, how he was on decent terms with his family for the first time in forever, how he was regaining his girlfriend’s trust.

Connor didn’t like meetings. He just felt bad. Everyone else had something tragic to complain about. He had a brain that just. Was wrong.

He picked his nail polish.

“Do you want to come to my new place?” Dave asked him after the meeting let out. “Aletheia might drop by later, but we could order a pizza or something and have her yell at us about how we’re going to die of heart disease.”

Connor shook his head. “Sorry, I should go home.” He shrugged. He sighed. He felt like such a shit head for saying something, for not saying it earlier, for just existing. “My sister’s birthday is today…”

“Oh shit.”

“I’ve been avoiding her… I thought the best present would probably be to stay away from her.” Connor picked his nail polish again. “I... I wish I could like… unfuck up with her.”

“I know,” Dave said. “I get that.” He clapped Connor on the shoulder. “You apologize to her yet?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I don’t know how.”

“Just start somewhere,” Dave said. “Literally like you could text her right now.”

Connor tried to picture that. “Sorry about the last five years. Sorry for being an asshole. Sorry about all the times I’ve hurt you and tried to hurt you and sorry I stole money and sorry I didn’t just fucking take myself out.”

“Maybe,” he said to Dave.

There wasn’t one particular thing that made up his mind, honestly. It wasn’t like his mom looked at him wrong or Zoe called him an asshole. Nothing like that.

He just woke up that Friday morning and knew he was going to kill himself. It was that simple, it was almost a relief. He was just going to get it over with.

It was that simple.

He did a little bit of googling, and he found this site called CatchingTheTrain.com and they had pages and pages about ways to do it. He made a list in his phone, figuring he could give himself some time to weigh the pros and cons of different methods. Now that he’d made up his mind, he felt like he didn’t need to rush. It was going to be fine and he was going to be dead.

Zoe shot him a dirty look that day when he managed to come down for breakfast.

“I’m surprised you’re awake,” His mom said.

“He used all the hot water too,” Zoe said, glaring. “I was going to shower.”

“Sorry about that,” He said, going for genuine but she just glared harder. “Did you have a nice birthday yesterday?” He’d gotten home after she’d gone out with some friends, and his mom had lectured him, and he lied and said he’d been out trying to find her a present. He’d ended up leaving a set of guitar picks on her desk, a present he’d bought her for Christmas last year but didn’t give her because she had pissed him off on Christmas Eve and thrown her hair straightener at him.

She stared at him suspiciously. “It was fine.”

“That’s good.” He tried to smile at her.

“What the fuck, Connor?”

“Zoe!” His mom snapped from the other side of the kitchen. “We talked about this.”

She rolled her eyes and got up from the table.

His mom sat down beside him. “You need to apologize to her for not being here yesterday,” She said, sounding tired.

He nodded, head bent over his bowl of cereal. “I know. I will.”

“Thank you,” she said. She was looking at him funny.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, nothing. I was just wondering if you’d let me do something about your split ends.”

He frowned at her. “My hair is fine.”

“I know it is. I was just wondering. It’s your hair. Maybe split ends are in with you kids these days.” She gave him a smile. “I’m going to be late to yoga.”

“Have fun,” he said.

She looked at him strangely, but then kissed his cheek and headed out.

He rinsed out his cereal bowl, then headed upstairs. He chewed his fingernails for a second, then knocked on Zoe’s door. She did not look happy when she saw him there. “What do you want?”

“Mom said I have to say sorry I wasn’t around yesterday.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was actually nice not having to put up with mom and dad arguing, actually.”

“That’s why I wasn’t here,” He said, shrugging.

“Did you give me these guitar picks?”

“Yeah.”

Zoe stared, then muttered. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Sure.”

“Why are you being weird?”

He shrugged again. “Who knows.”



“Why does Zoe have to drive me to school? I have a car.”

His dad heaved his massive sigh. “Because, when you drove your own car you like to cut classes. So you’re going with your sister.”

“What if I don’t want to drive him?” Zoe shouted. “I don’t want to drive him to school! I’m not his babysitter.”

“Well until we know he won’t use his car to go for joyrides instead of Algebra, you are,” Larry said, shaking his head.

“I’m taking fucking calculus!” Connor said, irritably. His dad didn’t respond, because Zoe had gotten up from the table, shouting how this was so unfair.

“I’m the younger sibling! I’m so fucking tired of being told I have to look after you!”

“Why are you mad at me?” Connor yelled. “I don’t want you to give me a ride either!”

“If you weren’t such a fucking screw up, I wouldn’t have to drive you.”

“Well if you weren’t such a fucking bitch , I wouldn’t be complaining about you driving me.”

“Watch your mouth,” Larry said.

“Fuck you, Connor!” Zoe shouted.

“Fuck you!”

“You’re an asshole!”

“Guys, enough,” their dad cut in, but Connor had gotten out of his chair then.

“Eat a dick, Zoe!”

“Please, if I wanted to you’d have already eaten it!”

“Bitch!”

“Fuck you!”

Connor grabbed his keys and headed out the door as he dad shouted after him to get back there.



He texted Dave from the road, a short text, an “I need to go to a meeting” text.

Dave shot back an address, and said he’d be there in twenty.

“You look like hell,” Dave said to him when he got there. Connor shrugged. He had no clue what he looked like. He just knew he felt like garbage.

“You okay?” Dave asked, and he had his concerned face on, he was frowning a little.

“Probably not,” Connor said, shrugging again. All he did was shrug. He was going to shrug out of life in a couple of days like an ill fitting shirt in a dressing room.

Dave nodded. “Well. Meeting’s a good idea then. We can get coffee or something after?”

Connor nodded back. He followed Dave into the church basement. Sat on a folding chair with his head bent down, like he might be sick, like he was keeping them between his knees. He kept bouncing his leg. He didn’t talk in the meeting. Let Dave do his thing, “Hi I’m Dave and I’m an addict, I’ve been sober for three months…”

He thought about talking. He was going to die, it wasn’t going to like. Hurt.

He couldn’t do it though. He was a fucking coward. He just listened and felt worse because there was nothing wrong with him but there was something wrong with him. The euphoria of the plan was gone. He was going to die. He should just get it over with already, stop stalling, stop being such a fucking pussy. People had lives, hard lives, and he was making Zoe’s hard and his mom’s hard and his dad’s...

“Coffee?” Dave said once the meeting ended.

“Nobody ever brings shit to these meetings but Deb the organizer,” Connor said suddenly. They’d gone to this meeting a few times; they held one a few times a week there, and Deb was always there. He always saw Deb with the juice and cookies and whatever. “Do you think that’s… fair? That she’s always organizing the snacks and coffee and shit and she’s gotta sit in a room full of junkies? Like. Shouldn’t there be a sign up sheet or something?”

Dave shrugged. “Want to come back next week and ask? Maybe bring some oatmeal raisin?”

“Nobody likes oatmeal raisin,” Connor said. He actually did, but he got made fun of in the fourth grade because that’s what his mom had brought in for a class treat on his birthday and the next year he outright refused to bring something in.

“I do.”

Of course Dave would. It was probably the same reason he liked Connor; he liked things that people thought sucked. That probably did, like, objectively suck. Connor pushed a hand through his hair. “I got in a fight with my sister. My parents don’t know where I am right now. I’m probably grounded.’

Dave nodded. “I’m sorry. What was the fight about?”

“They’re…. Making her drive me to school. They don’t trust me with a car all day. She’s pissed.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m ruining her life, I dunno,” Connor said. Head down. “If… if something happened to her, like an accident or-or she got cancer or whatever, I would. Like. I’d give a shit. I would care. I’d be all freaked out for her.” He shook his head. Cleared his throat to try to stop the burning feeling that was creeping into it. “So why…? I’m such an asshole to her, I just.” He shrugged, his shoulders collapsing. “Nevermind.”

He hadn’t meant to say a word about it but his whole head kept echoing with him calling her a bitch, with the sound of a chair shattering on impact with the ground, with him calling her a cunt because she’d called him a fag and getting a hair straightener thrown at him….

“Dude, it’s hard. Siblings aren’t easy. Just keep trying.”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll get better.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Connor couldn’t tell if Dave was a liar or just an optimist.

He wondered if they’d ever see eachother again. And hoped that nobody would tell Dave what he was about to do. He didn’t want Dave to know. It wasn’t fair. Dave would get upset, because he was that kind of guy, and it just wasn’t fair to him. He’d just gotten sober, he just started talking to his parents again, he had a nice girlfriend and a nice job and a nice life.

He shouldn’t have let Connor come anywhere near it.

He hoped that Dave didn’t find out.

“I’ll see you soon,” Dave said. “I want to know all about school. You can tell me about all the cute boys and I can give you awkward speeches about first loves.”

“Sure. Okay.”

Dave frowned at that. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t. That’s weird.”

“Come on man, can I help? You just seem… not good right now.”

Connor shrugged. “I just. I’m just worried about school and dealing with Zoe, I guess.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you later.” He knew he wouldn’t.

“Alright man. Take care.” He knew he couldn’t.

“You too.”



The plan went like this.

He was going to fake sick the first day of school and do it then when everyone else was gone. He wasn’t super thrilled about his parents having to find him after he died, but every other option involved a stranger finding him, which just felt unfair to the stranger. At least his parents had been assholes to him some of the time. He figured at least Fucking Larry ought to have to have that image in his head.

He couldn’t make up his mind about whether or not to leave a note, so he decided he wouldn’t.

He did stay up late the night before, trying to work out something to say to Zoe. He felt like… like he owed her. Like she deserved something. He stared at his phone in the dark, typing out “Sorry about” and then.

He just couldn’t do it. He’d been a shit head to her for her whole life, and even on his last fucking day on earth he couldn’t apologize to her. It all sounded so half assed and bullshit. Like it would be more unfair to say anything to her at all.

Sorry about that time I threw a chair at you.

Sorry about hitting you and calling you names.

Sorry about stealing from you.

Sorry about how much shit this is going to cause at first, but it’ll be better without me here, promise.

Sorry sorry sorry sorry. Sorry for being a shitty brother. Sorry I made you hate me. Sorry I said I hated you, because I didn’t.

Sorry about sorry about sorry about everything.

Just everything.

He couldn’t do it. He deleted a thousand apologies and just put his phone away.

He decided not to leave a note.

And then it was all decided. It wouldn’t be too bad. It would be fine. He wasn’t scared or sad or anything. He was relieved. Finally. It was going to be over.

But just because it was almost over, didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be fucking difficult. He smoked half a joint in his bedroom. Just to take the edge off. He didn’t want to fucking feel any of this. And he felt literally everything.

He walked down to breakfast and announced he wasn’t fucking going to school.

“It’s your senior year, Connor, you are not missing the first day.”