I Wish You All the Best Page 9

  But at the same time, I don’t.

  “How are you feeling, Ben?” Dr. Taylor asks me when I take a seat on the couch.

  I try to make myself comfortable, probably moving around too much in the process. “Fine, I think.”

  “I was happy when you agreed to see me earlier than planned.”

  I want to ask her why, but that seems rude.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened over the weekend.”

  I open my mouth, but the words are still hard to find.

  “It’s okay, Ben, take your time.”

  “It was a panic attack … I think.”

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning for me?” She gets her pen and notepad ready.

  I do what she asks. Hannah and Thomas went on a date night, so I was home alone, talking with Mariam. I saw a car in the driveway, and after that the details get a little fuzzy. I remember grabbing the laptop and going to the guest bedroom.

  “You can’t remember anything else?”

  “I do … sort of. It’s like it’s there, but not.”

  Dr. Taylor nods her head. I wonder what that could mean. “Have you ever experienced anything like this before, Ben?”

  Never in my life. “No.”

  “Would your parents know where Hannah lives?”

  “I don’t know.” It seems impossible, but I’d heard them talk about her once or twice. Nothing more than whispering to make sure I couldn’t hear them. I guess it wouldn’t be that hard, especially if Mom Facebook-stalked Hannah like I did.

  “Do you really think it was them, in the car?”

  I shrug. “It looked like the one Dad drives.” But I guess I can’t prove it was them. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  Dr. Taylor actually looks surprised. “Why wouldn’t I believe you, Ben?”

  “It seems like you don’t.”

  “I’m just trying to get all the information.” Dr. Taylor writes something down quickly, and that guilty feeling settles in my stomach. “Did anything else happen?”

  “There was a knock at the door.”

  “You didn’t answer, did you? Or see who might be on the other side?”

  I shake my head. “I couldn’t. I felt like I was stuck.”

  “Can you tell me a little about your relationship with your parents, Ben?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What kind of people are they?”

  Oh boy.

  “Um … well …” I rub the back of my neck.

  “In your own words, not how anyone else sees them.”

  “Dad is … difficult.” Especially with Hannah. “Mom isn’t great either. She never says much, not that she has the chance.” It feels weird talking about them like this. Like I’m being disrespectful. It’s not like they don’t deserve it, but I still don’t like the bad taste it leaves in my mouth.

  “Can you elaborate a little?”

  “How?”

  “However you want.”

  That seems vague. “They’re just … they’re my parents. I don’t really know what else to say about them.”

  “That’s okay.” Dr. Taylor sighs. “I want to ask you about your coming out. We can skip over that for now if you aren’t comfortable, but it’s something I’m very interested in talking about with you.”

  “I … okay?”

  “You’re fine with that?”

  “I guess.”

  “What made you want to come out to your parents?”

  “I wanted them to know, I didn’t want to hide such a big part of myself from them.”

  “This might sound a little harsh, but did you think what happened would be a possibility?”

  I did actually.

  Before I was out, when I was planning the whole thing, I couldn’t really see it being all happy and carefree like it was in some of the coming-out videos I’d watched. I’d imagined Mom and Dad might be a little reluctant or confused. And I figured it’d take them a while to get used to the pronouns.

  For just a second I considered that they might not like who I am. They didn’t necessarily have the greatest opinion of gay people.

  “Your parents, have they exhibited any homophobic or transphobic behavior in the past?”

  I nod.

  Not a lot, but there were comments here and there. Dad used to throw around the F-word, but that’d died down over the last few years. Maybe part of me thought they’d changed.

  “So why come out? Why not wait a few years, maybe until you’re in college or out of the house?” Her question isn’t accusatory. Dr. Taylor isn’t telling me it would’ve been smarter to just wait.

  Maybe it would’ve been.

  Actually, it definitely would’ve been smarter to wait.

  “I wanted them to know. I was tired of constantly living this lie in front of them. And I thought …” I trail off, not sure where my words are going.

  “I thought maybe it’d help them change or something.” I don’t really know.

  “I see.”

  “I should’ve just waited.” I sink back in the couch, not realizing how heated I felt. “Then I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Maybe,” Dr. Taylor starts to say. “But don’t you think you deserve to live openly as yourself?”

  I don’t say anything. “Do you think what happened was a panic attack?”

  Dr. Taylor nods. “Yes. That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “Okay …” I let out a long sigh. “Do you believe me? That it was them?”

  “I do, Ben.”

  “Why would they show up though? After all that?”

  “Well, I don’t want to give them any credit, but maybe they’ve realized their mistake.”

  “Seems a little late for that,” I tell her.

  Dr. Taylor nods slowly. “That it does.”

  Nathan doesn’t beg me to go to lunch with him again for the rest of the week, but I do anyway. Sophie and Meleika are nice, and they sort of act like they’ve known me for years instead of just a few days. But the closer we get to the weekend, the more I worry about tutoring Nathan.

  It’s not the actual tutoring that worries me. I think it’s more that it’ll just be the two of us again. It shouldn’t scare me. We’ve been alone before. Or maybe it’s because I don’t know where he wants to do this. He can’t come over to Hannah’s house, and the idea of going over to his, where his parents will probably be, is scary.

  I have no idea what I am going to do, so I text the only person who might give me a straightforward answer.

  Me: So I need some advice.

  Except Mariam must be busy, because I’ve been waiting for their reply for a few hours now. I even go down to the kitchen to grab a bag of Doritos, less because I am actually hungry and more because I just want something to do.

  I’m about to give up before the laptop makes the ding!

  Mariam: What’s up, buttercup?

  Me: it’s a boy.

  Mariam: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

  Me: no, not like that!

  Mariam: Okay start from the beginning.

  Me: He’s the one who showed me around the school.

  Mariam: Nathan? That guy you were telling me about?

  Me: Yeah

  I feel bad for venting about Nathan behind his back, especially since he’s been nothing but nice to me. But Mariam is always willing to listen to my rants, no matter the subject. One time we spent the entire day arguing back and forth against the need to gender robots in Star Wars.

  Mariam: He sounds really nice tbh

  Me: Sometimes to a fault

  Mariam: So what’s the issue???

  Me: I offered to tutor him.

  Mariam: And????

  Me: I don’t really know…

  Me: He can’t come over here, he doesn’t even know I live with Hannah.

  Mariam: And you don’t want to go over to his house?

  Me: It makes me nervous.

  Mariam: Understandable.

  Mariam: Well, what
if you went out? Got some lunch or coffee or something? Go to a public place.

  Me: I don’t know, this is the first time I’ve done something like this…

  Mariam: Your parents didn’t let you go out with friends?

  Me: They would… but no one ever really wanted to hang out around me.

  I was always seen as that “weird” kid. The one who was too quiet and never wanted to hang out with kids on the playground. That reputation sort of followed me through middle school and right up until I left Wayne High.

  Mariam: that sucks, I know the feeling all too well

  Me: Why am I freaking out so much?

  Mariam: You’ve been through a lot, Benji, I mean, the last month has been rough for you, it’s okay to be scared or worried.

  Me: But he’s just a boy. And I don’t know…

  Me: He seems too nice to hate what I am

  Mariam: Trust me hun, boys are scary. I lived with two of them and dated three. And you’ve seen Twitter, right? A cesspool.

  Okay, that makes me laugh. This is why I always go to Mariam. They can usually make me feel better, no matter how stressed I am about something.

  Mariam: But this Nathan dude seems like a good guy. And not one of those self-proclaimed good guys or whatever who tips his hat with a m’lady.

  Me: Maybe…

  Mariam: Do you actually want to hang out with him?

  Me: Yeah. He’s nice.

  Mariam: I think you owe it to yourself. Making friends is hard but having someone your own age can help. Even if he doesn’t know what you’re going through exactly, you both know that feeling. I’ve never met a single teen that has it all together.

  Mariam: And as much as I love my title as your bestie there’s only so much I can do when we’re a country apart from each other.

  Me: How’d you get so smart, Mariam?

  Mariam: I didn’t graduate from Berkeley with a 4.0 for nothing.

  Me: Thanks.

  I roll over and grab my phone off my nightstand. Nathan stole it at lunch yesterday, so now there’s a close-up selfie of the two of us set as my background. In fact, I’m pretty sure my camera roll is now an even 60 percent reference photos, 40 percent Nathan selfies.

  We didn’t confirm anything about the tutoring yet, and I’m not even sure that he remembers what we agreed to. Oh God, what if he doesn’t remember, and I just text him right out of the blue and he has no idea what I’m talking about?

  Or what if he doesn’t want me to tutor him anymore? I’m not sure which might be worse.

  Me: Still up for tomorrow?

  I hit send before I can delete the message, and go back to watching this YouTube tutorial on brushstrokes and how to control them better. The laptop and my phone go off seconds apart, the little ding! letting me know that Nathan’s texted back.

  Nathan: Ben?

  I’m a moron. This is the first time we’ve texted, so he wouldn’t have my number, which means that he just got a completely random text from some unknown number.

  Nathan: Bennnnnnnnnn is that youuuuuuuuuuuuu?

  Me: Sorry, forgot you didn’t have my number.

  Nathan: It’s cool. This is Ben De Backer right? Not some weird coincidence where I’ve somehow caught the attention of two Bens?

  Me: That seems statistically improbable. But yes, this is De Backer, Ben.

  Nathan: So what are we up for tomorrow?

  Me: Tutoring, if you’re still interested?

  Nathan: Oh right! Yeah I need it. Ms. Sever gave us this practice exam to do. Do you just want to come over to my house?

  I read back through Mariam’s messages on my laptop before responding. I don’t really know how to explain myself to him. Hey, can we maybe meet somewhere that isn’t either of our houses? As if I’m not already enough of a weirdo.

  Me: That sounds fine.

  I hit send before I can delete it.

  Nathan: KK.

  I switch back to messaging Mariam on my laptop, double-checking the name and number just so I don’t start talking about Nathan to Nathan.

  Me: Sorry. I texted Nathan, he wants to meet at his house…

  Mariam: You gonna do it?

  Me: I already said yes.

  Mariam: Yay!!! I’m so proud of you Benji!!!!

  Mariam: See what happens when you listen to your elders?

  Me: Sorry, forgot you’re a total grandparent.

  Mariam: And don’t you forget it!

  I don’t feel like I should be celebrating right now though. My phone buzzes again and there’s a notification at the top of the screen. Another message from Nathan.

  Mariam: Okay, I’ve got to head out. Busy weekend.

  Me: Kay, thanks for the help.

  Mariam: What I’m here for ;)

  I close the laptop and leave it at the end of the bed.

  Nathan: So what’re you up to?

  My heart clenches a bit. I thought we were done, but I guess not. Maybe texting will be easier.

  Me: Nothing, lying in bed.

  I don’t add that I’m currently digesting more cool-ranch dust than anyone probably should.

  Nathan: So what’re you wearing ;)

  I swallow all wrong, and it’s almost like I’ve been swallowing knives instead of a handful of Doritos.

  Nathan: jk jk, kiddinggggg!!!

  He sends this last one a few seconds later. I wonder if he can tell that he almost gave me a heart attack.

  Me: don’t do that. Please.

  Nathan: Okay, I promise. Pinky promise even.

  Me: Sorry… Pinky promise.

  Nathan: It’s my fault, my fingers are as bad as my mouth lol

  Nathan: I just realized what that sounded like. Again, my bad.

  I type a quick “lol,” even though I don’t feel like laughing.

  It’s not even that what he’s saying is gross or anything. I don’t hate the idea of kissing someone, or even having sex with them. But there are just things about my body … things I’m still not quite over. It’s hard to describe.

  Nathan: Still there?

  Me: Yeah sorry, got distracted.

  Nathan: It’s cool lol, I know the feeling.

  Me: Yeah. So what are you up to?

  Nathan: Trying to study, at least a little before next week.

  Me: I should probably do that too…

  I have a Calc and an English test, plus an essay on Chaucer and a lab to get ready for in Chemistry. All in one week. It’s like Thomas, Mrs. Williams, and Mrs. Kurtz got together to see what would lead to the quickest emotional breakdown from me. Joke’s on them, because I already know it won’t take much.

  Nathan: At least you’ve really only got 3 classes, I’d kill for Art again.

  Me: True, I guess.

  Art’s no walk in the park, but it’s definitely easier compared to some other classes.

  Me: Hey will your parents be there tomorrow?

  Probably the most awkward way to ask that question, but I want to be prepared. For what, I’m not sure.

  Nathan: Nah, they’re going to see my cousin at a science fair, apparently it’s an all-day kind of thing.

  Me: Oh

  Nathan: Why? You want to meet them?

  Me: Oh no.

  Shit. I might as well just actually put my foot in my mouth. It would be easier than this.

  Me: Sorry, I meant …

  Me: I meant I didn’t have to meet them.

  Me: Not that I didn’t want to meet them.

  Me: I’ll shut up now

  Nathan: lmao I’m dying

  He adds a few emojis. The ones that are laughing so hard they’re crying.

  Me: ugh, sorry. I’ll go bury myself now

  Nathan: Oh come on, don’t do that.

  Nathan: Don’t deprive me of that face of yours. It’s my one joy in that miserable place.

  I clutch my phone, trying hard not to think about what that’s supposed to mean. But part of me can’t resist wondering what that’s supposed to mean.

  Na
than: Hey what’s your address, I’ll pick you up tomorrow.

  And now I’ll be in a car, alone with him. Great. I type out the address and hit send.

  Nathan: Okay, you aren’t going to believe this shit

  Nathan: But we’re neighbors

  Me: Really?

  Nathan: You’re at 337 Sycamore? I’m 341.

  I walk over to my window, pushing the curtains back. I can’t really see his house, but I think it’s the brick one Thomas and I drive past when we’re going to school.

  Nathan: Small world.

  Yeah. Small world.

  Me: Cool. I’m going to go pass out. Should we go for noon tomorrow?

  Nathan: Yeah, do you want me to go pick you up?

  Me: That’s okay, it won’t even take three minutes

  Nathan: I don’t mind…

  Me: You’re serious? It’s like two houses away.

  Nathan: Alright, but let it never be said that I’m anything short of a gentleman.

  Me: Noted. Will you lead the search party if I get lost?

  Nathan: Are you kidding? I’ll hang up flyers of that handsome face all over town!

  I can almost picture his grin.

  Me: Good to know, I’m going to bed now.

  Nathan: Sleep tight!

  Before I plug my phone in, I scroll back through our conversation. He thinks I’m handsome? No, I don’t need to think about that. He was probably just joking or something. I sigh and reach down to the floor for my charger, crawling under the sheets and trying not to feel nervous about how I’m tutoring Nathan Allan tomorrow.

  I’ve passed by Nathan’s house nearly every day since I got to Hannah’s. And I never even knew it.

  “Nice place,” I say to myself, walking slowly up the steps of the front door, wondering if it really is too late to try and run home and avoid all of this.

  No. I can do this.

  I knock on the burgundy door a few times, and there’s this loud bark from somewhere in the house, and then the sound of footsteps. Nathan opens the door slowly, leaving it open just enough for me to see one of his eyes and part of his mouth. “Hey!”

  “Should I even ask?”

  “Okay, just to warn you, my dog, Ryder, is inside. He doesn’t bite, but he loves company and he will try to hug you.”

  “It’s okay. I like dogs. What kind is he?”

  “Ryder, get back!” I can hear Nathan wrestling with Ryder behind the door. “Golden retriever.” Nathan holds the door open for me. “Come on, he should be fine.”