This Is My Brain in Love - I. W. Gregorio Page 0,108

stuff, so he wouldn’t mind coming to a hospital to see me.

But when my curtain opens, it’s not the guys. It’s Jocelyn and Priya.

All of a sudden, I’m acutely aware of how thin the hospital gown I’m wearing is, how it doesn’t quite close up completely in the back. My monitor goes off, shrill and insistent, and when I glance over I can see the spikes in my tracing getting tighter and tighter. My mom notices, too, her eyes narrowing as she flickers back to look at Jocelyn and Priya.

“Hey, you feeling better?” Priya’s the first to say something. Jocelyn’s hanging back, her gaze tracking everywhere except to me.

“Yeah, they’re going to spring me soon. Thanks for coming,” I say weakly. “Sorry to ruin everyone’s evening.”

That gets Jocelyn to look at me. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she says, almost angrily. “It’s not your fault.” She looks miserable, and I know whose fault she thinks it is.

“Okay, it’s no one’s fault except my brain’s, then,” I counter.

Priya barks a laugh. “You could say that about every disaster in the history of the world. It wasn’t my fault, it was my brain’s!”

“If the shoe fits.” I shrug.

This Is My Brain on Tropes

JOCELYN

We don’t get to see Will for that long before he’s discharged and sent home with his mother with strict instructions not to work until he makes a follow-up appointment with his pediatrician and psychologist. It’s not enough time to apologize to him, to try to begin to make amends. It’s barely enough time to see that he’s well enough, and that he already blames himself for what happened.

So when Priya and I go back to the waiting room and wait for Mr. Venkatram to bring the car around, I feel like a shaken-up soda bottle, with so much pent-up emotion that I just want to scream.

“Will looks like he’s going to be okay,” I say, to break the unbearable silence.

“Okay enough,” she answers. She doesn’t even try to hide the blame in her voice.

“I said I was sorry,” I blurt out, both wanting to scream that it’s not my fault and wanting to cry because it is.

“Just saying you’re sorry isn’t going to cut it, Jos. You have issues. You need help.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I swear… I’ll talk to someone.”

And I mean it. I just don’t know who.

I’m staring at a muted video of a protest in Eastern Europe when Priya nudges me with her elbow.

“That woman in the pink cashmere shirt,” she whispers. “Society wife whose son had a football injury. What she doesn’t know is that he’s just faking it so he can quit the team and try out for the school musical.”

I close my eyes, feeling them prickle with tears of relief. “He’s read up on all the signs of a concussion, and he’s going to pretend that he can’t remember what happened and stumble when they make him walk in a straight line.”

“We could pitch it as Friday Night Lights meets Glee,” Priya says. “Oh, there’s my dad. He’s at the front.”

On the way home, I take my seat in the back and am surprised when Priya waves me over and slides in next to me.

“Dad, can you put on some Bollywood music please? We need something upbeat.”

As Mr. Venkatram fiddles with the stereo I turn to Priya and whisper, “So, is this the ‘Third Act Misunderstanding’? The ‘Mistaken for Cheating / Not What It Looks Like’ trope?”

“Of course,” Priya whispers. “I’m not a jerk. Yeah, I put some makeup on. Sue me if I don’t want him to think that I’m a schlub. He’s not interested in me, though, so no, there’s nothing for you to be jealous of.”

She makes it sound simple, but deep down I know it’s not. There are layers there that I’m going to have to pick apart some day when I can see more clearly.

For now? “I can’t believe that I’m re-creating bad romantic comedy tropes in my life.” I sigh.

“It’s normal,” Priya reflects. “Tropes resonate because they play on our hopes and fears, and if we see them over and over again it becomes part of what we expect in life.”

“That is so messed up,” I moan. “I guess if you recognize the pattern, though.…”

“Yeah, knowing is half the battle and all that.”

I guess half is better than none.

By the time I get back to Priya’s house, grab my bike, and get home, A-Plus is completely dark. I slink up the stairs, and my father is asleep on