An afterthought
Now I thought about what I wanna say
But I never really know where to go
So I chained myself to a friend
-- Daft Punk, Instant Crush
Well… what now? That question hounded him so deeply that he showered in perfect silence, lost in thought. He’d never factored in that Laith might actually stick around after they were done, completely lost on how to proceed. All he knew was that he couldn’t let Laith leave just yet, and to make him want to stay, he’d have to come up with something. Laith was obviously disinterested in watching anything together, which had been Theodore’s first—and unsuccessful—idea, so maybe they could smoke a joint and have some more drinks, or listen to music and dance; do whatever Laith’s friends liked to do. He passed the soap absently as they took turns in the water. The shower was an incredibly loud echo chamber, yet he couldn’t hear the water hit the tiles beneath it.
“Are we good?”
Laith’s voice was just the right tone to snap him back to reality, eyes glancing up to meet his face. The hint of wariness there rose his eyebrows.
“Yeah, why?”
Laith offered him a loose shrug in response, lips pulled down into a quick frown. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m—” He cut himself off so fast that he almost choked on his own words. “I’m fine; I just got a little distracted, sorry.” He shook his head, sliding the glass door open. “How long do we still have?”
The look on Laith’s face was almost painful, eyebrows pinching together very briefly. “All night, if you want.”
“All night is a long time, dude.”
Laith followed him out of the shower, and by the looks of it, didn’t have anything else to add. A new silence fell as they got dressed. Had he said the wrong thing? If Laith was down to spend the whole night together, then he probably shouldn’t have challenged that. Obviously, he’d love nothing more and should’ve just said it, but pulling his shorts up, the words to make it right clumped up in his throat and failed to come out.
Laith was being so nice and understanding—why couldn’t Theodore just tell him that? On that same line of thought, why was it so hard to keep him around? Before these last two weeks, they’d only met up for very fleeting periods of time; a minute here, a second there, in between places, waiting for someone. That camping trip had been the most relaxed he’d ever been around Laith, unconcerned with what came next, but still running on a timer. Why did something always have to be going on? As far as he knew, the only thing Laith’s friends did was sit around and chill, at least while they weren’t partying, so why couldn’t they just do that too?
“I could put a different movie on,” he offered, painfully aware of how lame he sounded right now. “There’s still some guacamole left; we could finish that.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Wait, did it? He watched Laith put his shirt back on, hand pulling the dog tags from under the collar. Did it actually sound good, though?
“Or we could do something else,” Theodore added, stumbling over his words. “It’s fine by me; I don’t mind at all.”
“The movie sounds good. I know they added a bunch of new ones recently, and episodes for shows I haven't gotten around to watching yet, so we could do that.” Laith ran a hand through his hair, combing it in a messy but very chic way, effortlessly elegant. It suited him. “You know we don’t, like, have to do anything when we’re together, right?”
That question came so far out of left field that all Theodore managed to do was lift his eyebrows and stare.
“I’d be happy just coming over to chill on the couch,” Laith continued. “Don’t feel like you owe me stuff just ‘cause you’re the host.”
Well, now he felt like an idiot.
“I don’t feel that way at all. Everything I did was because I wanted to.”
“I know, I’m just saying, if you want me over to chill, we can do that too. We don’t have to do anything else.”
He instantly recalled their very first time together, when he’d offered to put on a movie and Laith had promptly criticized it, so yeah, he didn’t buy that. It was a sweet thing to say, but unfortunately, it just wasn’t true. Either way, he supposed it was the thought that counted, even if it meant nothing whatsoever.
Back in the living room, he picked up the remote and flipped through the recently added movies. Anxious to find something Laith would be interested in watching, he didn’t even take a seat. Most of these titles he’d either never heard of or knew very little about; his family wasn’t very big on this type of entertainment, so he didn’t know much about it. His parents were affluent hosts and esteemed guests, not the type to stay home and watch movies. His father was the one who watched TV the most, and even then, it was mostly the news.
“What’s your password?”
That question turned him around to see Laith sitting on the couch with his phone in hand. His phone.
“It’s my birthday,” he told him.
Green eyes watched him expectantly, so he elaborated.
“February fourth.”
“Not too far from mine.” Laith’s lips tugged up into a small smile. “December thirtieth.”
“That sucks, dude. I’m so sorry.”
A scoff enveloped Laith’s laugh, thumbs tapping the screen.
“Can I ask why you’re going through my phone?”
“Didn’t you want Emily’s number?”
Oh, right.
“Give me yours too,” Theodore added.
Their eyes met. Somehow, the forwardness of that statement didn’t occur to him at all.
“You should ask her for it.”
“Why? I’m asking you for it.”
The small smile from before now widened into a proper grin, bright on Laith’s face. “I’m not going to make it easy for you, Theo. You already have her number, so use it.”
Despite rolling his eyes, he had to admit that Laith’s antics were pretty endearing.
The movie they settled on was a reboot of an apparently very popular series that he’d never heard of, and that Laith wasn’t super into either, but it’d gotten enough praise to make Laith want to watch it anyway. Even if just to say that he did, so his friends would stop asking him to. The others had gone to the movies a while ago and watched it there, though it’d been above ground, and ultimately, Laith had missed it. That prompted the question of whether there were movie theaters underground, to which the answer was an emphatic yes. The more he heard about the tunnels, the more convinced he became that they had absolutely everything that was above ground, just under different management. Did his father like that about it, or were the tunnels just a cash grab for him?
About an hour into the movie, Laith got up for a cigarette, so Theodore followed him outside, balcony door closed behind the two of them. The air breathed a little better up here, but the sixth floor still wasn’t high enough for the windows to be left open; only the very top floors could safely do so. Depending on the building’s location, the penthouses were three times, sometimes even four times the price of the same apartment layout a few stories down.
“Are you coming over next week, or are you making me wait two weeks again?” Theodore asked, watching the cherry glow.
Their eyes met, but only for a moment; Laith glanced at the cigarette, smoke blowing past his lips. The seriousness with which he examined it, rolling it between two fingers, made a deep sense of dread fall over Theodore.
“I’m not coming up for a while.”
There it was. Theodore still couldn’t keep his shoulders from dropping, throat closed tight. “Why not?”
“I already told you, man; this shit’s dangerous and I can’t afford to get caught again. Your dad doesn’t fuck around.”
His hands closed into fists. This again? How many times would he have to bring up Laith’s friendship with Ryan and how risky that was too? Different strokes for different folks, huh. He bit his tongue to keep from rehashing that argument, jaw set tight, a hard scowl on his face.
“I keep thinking about that day,” Laith continued, quieter now, “every word he said to me. I see you now and I remember the way he looked at me, like he’d bludgeon me to death if the neighbors weren’t looking.”
The cut on Laith’s face had lost its scab, a simple scar now, barely noticeable anymore. The fire in Theodore’s chest slowly began to subside, hands loosening up.
“Tell me he didn’t see you run after me that day.”
“He didn’t,” Theodore promised, speaking around the lump in his throat, “and he’s not going to find out either. Crestwood is really far from here.”
Laith nodded in silence, smoke blowing away with the breeze. “I’m not very smart, you know. Ryan gives me a lot of shit about it, but he’s right; I keep getting caught up in stuff that regular people would laugh at. In a way, our friendship is one of them.”
The butt of the cigarette found Laith’s lips again, cherry burning bright as he inhaled. There was a distinct thoughtfulness to him that kept his eyes off in the distance. Theodore knew he wasn’t sober, but the shift in the atmosphere almost made him believe otherwise.
“You were right when you said hanging around him is just as dangerous, but the reason I can’t cut ties with him is the same reason I’m up here with you now,” Laith explained. “Any sane person in my position would’ve cut all contact and moved on a long time ago; it’s self-preservation.”
“But that’s never been a part of you, has it?”
“That’s not the point I’m making.”
The cigarette burned, ashes blowing with the wind. He watched Laith pluck the cigarette from his lips and breathe out smoke. He thought that last sentence would be followed by the point Laith was actually making, but the longer the silence stretched, the faster he realized that wouldn’t be the case.
“How long are you gonna be away for?” Theodore asked.
Laith shrugged. “A few weeks. If I still haven’t wised up by then, I’ll come see you.”
His eyebrows twitched. “Try that again, but without making me feel like shit.”
Laith scoffed, entirely humorless. “You really are his son.”
“Friday at eight-thirty across the street. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Smoke disappeared from Laith’s lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“If you don’t make it, I’ll come see you.”
Green eyes finally found his face, sharp over a half-smirk. “Cute. Here’s a tip about threats, though—they have to sound real. Next time, try something you’d actually do, like stalk my friends or bleed information out of Emily.”
“You don’t think I’d go down?”
“Dude, you can’t even go to Ryan’s place.”
“If I go to his place next weekend, will you be there?”
Laith shook his head.
“You’re not leaving me much choice here,” Theodore told him.
“There might be a reason for that.”
“Sure, there is. You’re shaking in your boots, but you still keep coming back. Next time, try sticking to your gut, and maybe I’ll believe you.” His tone was unnecessarily hostile, a reactionary response to Laith’s harshness. It reminded him of the first time they’d met, when Laith had made fun of him and all the others had laughed.
“That’s the problem, though—I am following my gut; that’s all I do. It’s the voice of reason that gets lost in translation, l’étranger invisible, dropped right in the middle of the maze. It runs around in circles and never makes it anywhere. When there’s only one impulse to follow, there’s no real deliberation behind it. I shouldn’t be here, yet here I am; the man in the maze has never made it out.”
“You can clearly tell right from wrong. If you know you shouldn’t be here, then that means the man in the maze got through somehow. He might not have made it to the control panel, but you can still hear him scream.”
“That doesn’t mean much when he’s outnumbered. The screaming feels like a hammer banging into my skull, yeah, but I’m essentially watching myself walk through a mine field unable to do anything about it. I’m not behind the control panel either.”
“Yeah, you are, but it’s not a part of you that’s cute to show others. People freak out when you tell them you hurt yourself on purpose, so you dissociate, that way you can say it’s not you who did it—it was self-sabotage! Blame that instead.”
Laith stared at him, eyes wide with shock. Had he gone too far? The thought made his heart skip a beat. Still, nothing else left his throat, no apologies, no backpedaling. Pride had nothing to do with it; it was the fear of making everything worse by acknowledging his brutality that stole every word from his mouth and made him face the consequences of what he’d already done without adding to it.
Laith dropped his gaze. “You know, for as much grief as you give Ryan, you’re not too different from him.” His voice was low, verging on emotionless. It wrapped a tight knot around Theodore’s throat.
“In what way?”
Smoke flew over his head.
“You two are relentless. You’re just smarter about it, but maybe that makes it worse; I don’t know.”
The knot tightened.
“There’s innocence in ignorance, but when you know exactly what you’re doing, well…” Laith raised a shoulder. “Premeditation has no defense.”
“I wasn’t trying to attack you.”
Green eyes burned orange, fixed squarely on his face. “Ryan’s vulnerable, you know. He’s angry and lashes out, but he has his moments of weakness too. It’s relatable. You, on the other hand…” Laith’s head moved, cocked a bit.
When their eyes met again, he realized Laith wasn’t going to finish that sentence.
“At the end of the day, we’re all byproducts of our parents’ cruelty,” Laith concluded.
“My parents love me.”
“There’s cruelty in love too.”
His chest burned, wrapped in dangerous flames. Laith had no idea what he was talking about. A deep-seated loyalty to the ones who’d given him the world wanted to grab Laith by the shirt and throw him over the railing, but considering how difficult it’d been to get him up here, Theodore shouldn’t do that. Still, he didn’t want to be around him right now and walked back into the apartment, sliding the door closed. Cruelty in love—he wanted to laugh; that didn’t make any sense. His parents had been nothing but loving and kind. If it hadn’t been for their generosity, he wouldn’t even be living here. Laith knew nothing about them, only the twisted accounts Ryan had given him, inaccurate and biased.
With a scream trapped in his throat, Theodore grabbed his phone and sat on the couch. As soon as the screen lit up, Emily’s name appeared. Driven by pure emotional instability, he tapped on it and began typing out a text.
Hey Emily, this is Theo. I got your number from Laith, hope that’s alright.
His fingers paused for a moment. There was so much he wanted to say and ask, but should probably not get into any of it right on the very first message.
Absently, he glanced out the glass door where Laith leaned against the railing, eyes down at his own phone, fingers typing. Theodore watched him for a moment; the strands of hair that fell over his forehead, long enough to reach his eyes. The cigarette between his lips and how his teeth never touched the filter, careful, burned almost all the way through. The brightness of his eyes, fire reflected on green, a cauldron of intensity. When they moved up to meet his face, he pressed send on the text.
Holding the stare, Laith finished off the last of the cigarette and flicked the butt off the balcony. A string of thoughts came with it. First, how environmentally friendly it was. Second, that it could’ve fallen right on someone’s head and set their hair on fire, but then he remembered that balcony overlooked the patio, so it most likely fell on some shrubbery. Was a cigarette butt enough to set a garden on fire? Laith slid the glass door open and walked back in, closing it right after. Green eyes glanced down at the phone in his hands, making them instinctively lock the screen. Without a word, Laith took the seat next to him.
Theodore wondered why things couldn’t just be this way; no monumental effort to keep Laith around, no elaborate schemes to get his attention, just the two of them watching TV together. The knowledge that Laith simply wasn’t interested in him, either as a friend or anything else, to want to stick around drove a knife through his heart. How long could he swim against the current? Wishing it’d flow in the opposite direction wouldn’t make it happen. With great effort, he could manufacture a situation in which it would, but if he forced every friendship he had, wouldn’t that turn his friends into victims? Locked in his house, Laith was a prisoner, not a potential friend who just needed a little convincing to like him. The only actual friends he had were the girls who he kept ditching for someone who didn’t even want to be here. His heart sank.
“You know, you can leave,” Theodore told him. “The door is unlocked.”
“The movie isn’t over yet.”
“You’re missing a drag show.”
“That was two weeks ago.”
His back found the couch, slouched. Nothing else left his mouth.
“Do you want me to go?” Laith’s voice was quieter now, careful.
He almost wanted to say yes. Instead, his shoulders moved, shrugging loosely.
Laith shifted, but out of view, Theodore couldn’t tell what he was doing. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said; I didn’t mean to upset you. I went too far.”
“That’s not it. I know your friends are waiting for you and you want to be with them too; I’m just saying you don’t have to stay.”
“Are you talking to Emily?”
As if summoned, a text from her made his phone buzz, screen lighting up. He didn’t have to look to know Laith had seen it too, the full message right on the screen, a few short words perfectly visible.
Are you with him?
“I know they’re waiting for you because they always are,” Theodore explained in an attempt to salvage this, “especially on a Friday night. She’s obviously worried about you.”
“Don’t tell her I’m here.”
That comment turned him around to meet Laith’s eyes, scowling. His silence prompted Laith to continue.
“They don’t know we’re hanging out. Ryan gave me way too much shit last time without even knowing what had happened; they think we just talked for a few hours.”
Right, a meeting under wraps, carefully managed with consideration for Ryan’s feelings. He supposed that was the price to pay for going after the friends Ryan had made, nothing but a consolation prize. Laith was Ryan’s friend first and his associate second.
“Why is he so angry?” Theodore asked. “We’re not even doing anything.”
“Don’t play dumb; you know how he is. He doesn’t want you around any of us.”
“But you’re still here, going behind his back anyway.” His tone was almost smug. A smirk pulled on the corner of his lips, sharp but playful. “I must be better than I thought.”
Laith failed to suppress a smile. “You’re a bully, Theo. I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“You always had a choice and you chose to come here. Maybe you wanted to see me.”
The smile on Laith’s face turned sheepish. “Of course I did—”
Wait, did he? Did he actually or was he just saying that? Theodore’s lips parted to ask, agitation filling his chest, yet nothing left his mouth, too shocked to speak.
“—but you have to agree you made it impossible for me to say no. You’re surprisingly headstrong for how innocent you look. I guess that’s part of the disguise.”
“Innocent?” That was the only thing he could process, and even then, he barely understood it. “I’m tough as hell.”
“I know you are; you just don’t look like it—that’s my point. You’re short, and small, and you have these big blue eyes…” Laith’s voice grew softer as he spoke. “You just seem really fragile.”
“You’re fragile. You put on a huge show of being this big tough guy when you’re actually really, really scared.”
“We both are, we just hide it differently, but don’t get me wrong; I didn’t mean that in a bad way. You’re…” A hand gestured loosely between them, color rising to Laith’s face. “You know, you’re cute.”
His pulse faltered. A smirk slowly crept in, stretching his lips. The chagrin that that caused Laith only fueled him further.
“What else about me is your type?” he teased.
The eye roll he got in response only pushed him to keep going.
“Bossy and demanding? Kind of an asshole? I mean, there has to be a reason why you love doing what I tell you to.”
“God, you’re insufferable.”
His smirk widened. “You like that.”
Laith shook his head, smiling. “You and Ryan—”
“Shut up about Ryan.” The bite in his voice raised Laith’s eyebrows, startling him. “I just want to go one fucking minute without hearing his name.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
His phone buzzed again, but this time it was longer and accompanied by a ring tone, Emily’s name flashing on the screen. They shared a glance. The fact that he couldn’t read anything on Laith’s face was disheartening. He thought he knew him by now, or at least he thought he knew enough to break through the façade; realizing that he didn’t felt like getting lost in a crowd. Answering the call, his brought his phone up to his ear. Loud music bled through the speaker.
“Emily?”
“Hey, how are you? It’s been so long!” She practically screamed, loud and cheerful, definitely under the influence.
“Are you at the Dead Ponies?”
“Yes! I lost Justin and Ryan, but I’m sure they’ll show up soon. I’m just kind of wandering around, looking for Laith. Is he with you?”
He passed his guest a quick glance. “Why do you think that?”
“He was with you last time. You said he gave you my number.”
“That was a long time ago; he’s not with me right now.”
Music boomed in the background, loud enough that he could make out some of the lyrics amid all the electronic sounds and computerized instruments—we just like to party, like to p-p-party, yeah. A sigh cut through, pressed right into the receiver. “Shit.” All the energy and liveliness from a second ago were completely gone. This shift in mood, a broken veneer, grew a lump in Theodore’s throat. “I really thought he’d be with you.”
“Why is that so important?”
“I just don’t know what’s going on with him these days. He’s never been this distant, like he’s slipping through my fingers and I just can’t get a hold of him. He’s definitely keeping something from me, and I thought, if he was with you, that it wouldn’t be so bad, but if he’s hanging out with other people—people we don’t know—maybe this distance he’s putting between us is on purpose.”
The lump in his throat choked him. “I’m sure it’s not like that; he’s probably just busy with something else. He’ll show up soon.”
“I know he’s busy tonight, he told me he is, but busy with what? Burman’s down here and he’s not with her, which means he has to be with somebody else. Strangers, thugs, criminals; I don’t know! He’s so naïve, he could be with anyone. I’m afraid…” Emily’s voice faltered. “I’m afraid he’s in trouble.”
Ashamed, he turned away from Laith. “You should talk to him when you see him again; I’m sure he’ll clear things up if you ask. It’s really not as bad as you think it is.”
“I hope you’re right. I’ve known him for most of my life and he’s never been like this. I think Ryan might be making it worse.”
“Yes, he definitely is.” A sudden conviction took over him now, a burning passion to vomit out everything he thought about his brother. Laith refused to listen to him, but maybe Emily would be different. “He’s a bad influence on everyone. I saw how chaotic he makes things, how divided the group is with him in it. Friends aren’t supposed to make you feel like shit all the time. You know, he might even be the cause of this distance.”
“You think so?” She sounded sincerely surprised. “I’ll have to ask Laith about it.”
“Given their relationship, I don’t think that’ll make much of a difference. He doesn’t see it, but good luck anyway.”
“He might be lenient with Ryan, but he knows who’s good for him and who isn’t; that’s just never stopped him from getting with shitty people. I mean, that’s his type.”
“Then that in itself should say volumes about Ryan.”
Emily clicked her tongue.
The nature of his involvement with Laith wasn’t lost on him, what that might make of him; if he was really the toxic type that Laith was attracted to. The sheer difficulty that came with trying to keep him around made him believe otherwise, that Laith was just physically attracted to him.
“Thanks for picking up, Theo. You should come see us sometime.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He turned to Laith after hanging up. While he didn’t want to part from him, his friends were getting worried, and considering how open he was with them, picking up on this secret wouldn’t be difficult. Those guys were always together; why would Laith, who literally lived in the tunnels, not be able to go clubbing with them at any point in time? It didn’t make sense, and the fact that he probably hadn’t given them an excuse also didn’t help. Everything about this was incriminating.
“We’re doing this all wrong,” Theodore blurted out. “Our plans shouldn’t be interfering with your friends’; it’s suspicious. We should be doing this earlier in the week.”
The crease between Laith’s eyebrows, as small as it was, allowed him to notice the worry that had fallen over him during the call. “What did she say about me?”
“She misses you, and she also knows something’s up, so you’ll have to reassure her that nothing is. What do you think about Wednesday?”
“Am I tearing them apart?”
Theodore scowled. “What? No. Listen, do your friends usually hang out on Wednesdays or is that a good day to meet up?”
“You said I’m creating chaos and tearing them apart. Does she feel the same way?”
“I was talking about Ryan, idiot. Does he see you on Wednesdays or not?”
Green eyes dropped to the space between them, pensive. “No, he works on Wednesdays. We only see each other over the weekend.”
“Okay, then we’ll meet up next Wednesday. Deal?”
Their eyes met. “I’m not coming up next week.”
“That’s fine, I’ll go see you, but um.” His heart ached. “You should probably go; Emily’s really worried about you. We need to be more careful.”
Laith squinted. “Did you hear me? I’m not coming next week.”
“Yeah, I know, so is Wednesday okay?”
Laith got up from the couch. His frustration was obvious, visible in the way he moved, in the stiffness of his body, hands closed into fists. Without a word, he circled the couch toward the front door, but stopped just shy of disappearing out of view. “If you’re going down, at least take the Cantaloupe entrance.”
“Why?”
Instead of answering, Laith continued down the hallway. Theodore listened to his footsteps, no longer able to see him. They fell silent in front of the front door, but only for a moment. Then, the door creaked open and soon after clicked shut. That sound echoed within Theodore’s skull like a hammer, regret filling him up inside. He already missed him.
He pictured Laith pulling the elevator door open and walking in, his reflection in the mirror, messy hair, bright eyes, mint and cardamom on his skin. Was that the scent Laith smelled on him? If it was, how did he feel about carrying it along for tonight? Did it make him think of Theodore? Would the others notice, would they know?
The whole reason he’d wanted Emily’s number was to talk about Laith, but if she couldn’t know, then who could he speak to? Jessie came to mind, but the mere thought of opening up about his experiences with a man to anyone who wasn’t already in touch with that kind of stuff nearly made him panic. He couldn’t talk to her, not in detail, and much less to the other girls who probably didn’t even know things were still going on between them. They’d already seen him break down and he regretted that with every ounce of his being.
The only solution he could find would be to make some new friends. It always came down to that, didn’t it? No one in his vicinity understood the very first thing about him, except for Laith, who was the subject of this conversation. His friends were out of the picture, Emily and the others couldn’t know about their involvement, and suddenly, all of his options were gone.
The only person he could think of that had a large amount of friends and always seemed to be making new ones was his mother. She was close with all the neighbors, the PTA moms, the baseball moms, and was on a first name basis with every saleswoman at Ralph Lauren. Naturally charming, she made friends everywhere she went; her contacts list was ten miles long, but how did she do it, and were there any tricks for a normal person to accomplish this too? Theodore wasn’t very charming or much of a public speaker, either.
Lying in bed, he pulled up his mother’s contact and called it. She might not have been a literal club goer, but was still a party girl in her own right, throwing dinners half of the time and attending them the other half. At half past midnight, she should still be up. The line rang three times before she answered.
“Theodore, what a wonderful surprise! We were just talking about you.” Her tone was light and friendly, as if she were smiling, but wasn’t. Plates and glasses clinked in the background, people spoke and soft music played. Suddenly, Theodore really missed those stupid dinner parties and the boring adult talk.
“Who are your guests tonight?” he asked.
“Petra, Dieter and some of the new neighbors. The people of Crestwood are lovely; I can’t wait to introduce them to you. Albert and Debby have a wonderful daughter your age actually, who’s majoring in Literature and works for the town’s paper. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, she sounds incredible; I bet they’re all really good friends of yours by now.”
“I haven’t met her yet; she lives in an apartment downtown just like you, but we’re making plans for a big get-together at the end of the year with gifts and champagne so you two can meet.”
Oh, he hated the sound of that. Not the gifts and the champagne, but how she’d worded it, like the whole point of the get-together was only so the two of them could meet. Surely, she hadn’t meant it that way.
“Are we going to grandma’s house?”
“Of course we are, but we’re leaving early to spend New Year with Albert and Debby. Now, I’m sure you’ll be back for your birthday, and this time, the party will be colossal; the entire neighborhood will come. I’ll even bake you an extra cake so you can celebrate with the girls later.”
His throat closed, a big lump lodged deep in it. “Mom…” Better change the subject. “How are you so good at making friends?”
She laughed delicately. “Friends are the essence of life; I make them as much as they make me. A good conversationalist could entertain an entire party, and who wouldn’t want to be the center of attention?”
“How do you become a good conversationalist?”
“By reading the room. If you know your audience, you should know what they want to hear. Use your charm and your good manners; they never fail to impress.”
That seemed like a lot of work, and he wasn’t even sure if he knew his audience at all, or if good manners would make much of an impression in the first place. Every party he went to was far too full of hormones and alcohol for normal conversations; they were either extremely shallow and generic, or got incredibly deep, incredibly fast. His mother’s advice worked on people like her, with possessions and their children’s accomplishments to brag about, while the strangers in the parties he went to didn’t even know his name. Maybe it’d work on campus though, he wasn’t sure. It’d be an experiment for when classes started. He still had a week to go.
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