How to Repair a Mechanical Heart - By J. C. Lillis Page 0,35
look.” He swings in front of me. “I just—I was trying to help. I thought I could snap you out of it. Hey!”
He grabs my arm. The Sunseeker’s three rows away. His breath warms the side of my face.
“It’s not a big deal,” he whispers. “Okay?”
It’s not such a great exchange, is it? A few moments of pleasure, in exchange for—
“So is this how you act?” I shove his hands away. “Like, the day someone dumps you?”
“What?”
“You know.” I have no clue what I’m doing, but it’s too late now. “It’s kind of gross, that’s all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your ‘relationship.’”
“I’m not in one.”
“You were this morning.”
“I don’t live in the past.”
“I’ll say. You trying to get back at him?”
“No! No. That’s not what—”
“I think that’s exactly what it is.”
“Brandon, I swear—”
“You think you’re so much better than he is? I think you just got lucky.”
“Lucky?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “That he cheated first.”
“Well, fuck you very much.”
“No thanks.” I start for the RV again.
“Right. Riiiiiight. Because anyone who touches precious little you has to be completely pure, oblivious to all others, a paragon of—”
“I’m not talking to you.”
“Oh, fine. It’s fine. I mean, if we did it and you liked it, then you couldn’t feel sorry for yourself anymore, and then where would you be?”
He ducks in front of me again, sticks his hands on his hips.
“Get out of my way,” I mutter.
“I’m not good enough for you anyway, right? Like, who knows what I’ll make of myself? You want a med student with perfect hair and a wine cellar. ‘Ooh, look at us! We’re pre-engaged! He gave me his promise ring and someday we’ll get married and adopt an orphan from Zimbabwe and name him Aiden!’”
“Are you done?”
“Plus what would the rest of the Thumper family think?”
“My parents are not Bible thumpers!”
“They sure had it in for me.”
“Right.”
“I saw them. The way they looked at me when I met them? Tell me they weren’t judging me.”
“Maybe you deserve to be judged a little.”
He flinches like I’ve punched him. I want to take it all back, tell him there’s a monster snarling in my throat right now and he’ll say anything, anything to keep Abel away from me.
He steps close. I feel his breath feather my forehead. He touches his finger to the tip of my chin and tilts my face to his.
“I get it,” he says. “I’m a sinner. Is that right?”
“No—”
“You’re just like them. Just like your parents. You hate yourself, don’t you?” His fingers brush the side of my face, skate the curve of my jawline. “Or do you just hate me?”
“I didn’t mean it. I was just—”
“See, I knew something was off. Right? When you said you used to be an altar boy, I was like ‘how does he not have issues?’” He claps my shoulders. “Stellar job pretending, young man. Very convincing pantomime of sanity. I was fooled.”
“Abel.”
“Like, I can’t even be mad. You know? I just feel sorry for you.”
I wriggle away, speed-walk for the Sunseeker.
“Hey!” he calls. “Brandon!”
I walk faster.
“There’s no Zander, is there?”
He knows. He knows. I confirm it when I stop too short in front of the Sunseeker steps, as if the labyrinth monster from Episode 3-8 just reared up in front of me and peeled its black lips back from eight dripping fangs.
“Oh my God,” he says. “It’s true.”
Sweat prickles my neck. My stomach rethinks the lattes.
“I thought all those stories you told me sounded like bullshit but you know, I was like, ehh, his first love, you always remember it in such glowing terms and all. God, everything makes sense now!”
“Shut up.”
“That’s why you never had me over. Your stupid graduation party—that wasn’t family-only, right? You were just too chickenshit to invite me.”
“Abel—”
“What a coward. Unbelievable. You’re a virgin, right?”
My fists curl up.
“What is it? Do you like, see Jesus weeping on the cross when some guy tries to kiss you?”
“Stop talking.”
“What about when you fap? You’re not supposed to do that either, right? Do you have to flagellate yourself? Wear a hairshirt to bed? I bet you confess your—”
My hands crash into his chest and he staggers two steps backwards. This weird strangled sound punches out of him and he tugs down his t-shirt, gasping in a breath.
“What’re you doing?”
Crazy. He’s staring like I’m crazy. My palms smack his shoulders this time.
“Oh God, you’re ridiculous!” He catches both my wrists. “You’re seriously going to fight me?”