Best friends
I just want a humble, murderously simple thing:
that a person be glad when I walk into a room.
-- Marina Tsvetaeva, Notes
Dinnertime had become a lot more peaceful since Ryan had stopped attending. Actually, most family interactions had, and for as much of an obvious change as that’d been, no one had ever mentioned it. Theodore wasn’t sure why, but they just didn’t talk about his brother anymore, despite the fact he still lived here. His parents gave him a lot more attention now, adding to the pressure of performing for them. Every time his father asked him something, he felt his pulse race. For as much as he loved his brother, he still preferred it this way. At least, no one had gotten hurt in a very long time.
When Ryan did make it to dinner, Theodore’s very first instinct was to fake a cough to stay in bed. He knew how it’d go; Ryan would be cross with Carolyn, she’d tell Henry how upset that made her, and he’d get up for the belt. It happened every time. Ryan was older now, and by the looks of it, must’ve picked up exercising too; the damage those two could do to each other just got worse. When Carolyn called, however, Theodore went downstairs and took the seat across from her, heart in his throat, cold sweat on his brow. Witnessing this was much smarter than upsetting her in any way.
When she ultimately addressed Ryan, it started out innocently enough, just a couple of observations about his recent absence at the dinner table, which he rebutted with how much he’d been studying and how busy he’d been in general. Henry scoffed at that. Theodore knew it was about to get bad.
“How much studying can you do at an art school?” Henry asked sarcastically.
Theodore held his breath, waiting for Ryan to raise his voice and give their parents an excuse to hit him, but his brother simply shrugged.
“We have to practice a lot,” Ryan explained, eyes down at his own food. “You know, drawing.”
“Have you made any friends yet?” Carolyn asked, keeping her tone light.
Ryan passed his brother a quick glance. “Not yet.”
“It’s been two years.”
Again, Ryan shrugged, staying silent.
“What about a girlfriend?”
Ryan looked like he was about to roll his eyes, but managed not to. “No girlfriend, mom; I don’t know anyone.”
“You’re almost twenty years old, Ryan; you need to start inserting yourself into the world, make some connections. You’ll never be someone if you don’t have a social circle.”
“I’m working on it.”
Somehow, the argument managed to remain civil, and the evening passed by without incident. It was a breath of fresh air, considering they’d never had a peaceful supper before. Ryan had proven to be adult enough to know which fights to pick and which were far too repetitive, even for him. The reason he hadn’t brought up his friends was obvious. That was their little secret anyway, and it felt like a bond—Ryan trusted Theodore to keep his mouth shut. He must’ve earned that trust when he caught Ryan smoking the first time and decided not to snitch that day.
He walked into Ryan’s room after dinner and asked him if it was okay to talk about grown up stuff, things their mother wouldn’t like to talk about. That elicited a raised eyebrow and a request to close the door.
“What do you wanna know?” Ryan asked.
“Um.” Theodore shuffled, heart skipping a beat. “When you’re alone… do you think about people? People you know, I mean. Your friends, or like, adults you’ve met before. Is it okay to think about them?”
Dark eyes squinted. “Are you getting off to people you know?”
Theodore’s eyes widened, face warm. That reaction alone was answer enough to crack a grin on Ryan’s face.
“That’s dirty, Theo; real dirty. Who you thinking of?”
“Just… people we see around. No one in particular.” His palms sweated.
Ryan scoffed out a laugh, leaning back on his chair. “You’re not a freak, dude; that’s totally normal. Happens all the time. I bet ten dollars someone in this town is jerking off to some busty cashier right now. It’s fine.”
He breathed in deep, heart slowing back to normal. “Have you ever done that?”
“Who hasn’t?”
So he was fine, then. His body immediately relaxed, allowing him to take a seat on Ryan’s bed. “Do you ever feel weird afterwards? Like maybe you shouldn’t have done that. Like, what if they figure it out?”
“Nah, I just go to sleep. Not everything is worth worrying about, and this really isn’t. You’ll be better off using your time for literally anything else.”
“But—”
“You’re fine,” Ryan cut him off. “No one cares what gets you off. That’s your own thing.”
Theodore nodded. It still didn’t feel right, but it was good to know he wasn’t alone. As long as he didn’t do anything about it or tell anyone, he didn’t think there’d be a problem. Laith didn’t have to know.
Theodore started asking about him more directly, hoping Ryan wouldn’t notice, really interested to know what had been going on with him; what he did for fun, what he studied, what kind of stuff he liked. Trying not to be too obvious, he changed the specificity of the questions to pertain to everybody in the group, but only really cared about the one answer. That way, he learned Laith wasn’t in college, but worked at a nearby store and hung out with the others after class. He liked to party, to exercise and to do weird dangerous stuff, which Ryan was fully down with. They’d even started going to the gym together, the explanation for Ryan’s newfound muscles. They weren’t nearly as big, just noticeable enough.
He wanted to ask if Ryan was a rat or not, or at least hear some confirmation that he wasn’t, but none ever came. A voice inside his head kept telling him that if Ryan really wasn’t one, wouldn’t he just say it? Parties and alcohol came up a lot, so it wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason to mention it. The thought was in the back of Theodore’s mind every time they talked. The only reason Ryan wouldn’t flat-out deny it would be because he was one, but Theodore would only believe it if the confession came from his brother’s own mouth.
***
Carolyn’s hair was a couple of shades darker than Theodore’s, pinned up with a pencil in a beehive as she worked. Two long locks flowed down the sides of her face and curled beautifully at the ends. He liked it when her hair was up, but even more when it was down, soft like silk. She must’ve been a princess in some other life.
With the cake in the oven, it was time to do the dishes. He usually did them while she dried and put them away, inspecting his work to make sure it was good enough. The way she dried the silverware looked as if she were polishing them; perfection in everything she touched.
“What do you think about Daisy?” she asked. Her tone was very nonchalant, eyes down at the fork in her hands.
“She’s very smart and very focused too. When she comes over, it’s all work. Makes me wish I was as dedicated as her.” His heart skipped, and he quickly added, “I know I can be! I’m better every day; I just need to keep at it.”
“Do you like her?” Her eyes found him then, bright near the window, reflecting a tiny version of it over her irises.
“Of course I like her. She’s my friend.”
“No.” She placed the fork in the drawer before turning to him, hip against the counter. “Do you have feelings for her?”
His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t think I’ve ever… thought about that.”
“Then start.” She turned back around. “We wouldn’t want you to grow up like your brother, would we? I have high hopes for you.”
He nodded.
***
Daisy always greeted her friends at school with a smile stretching her mask, eyes bright with joy but still very composed, not a single wrinkle in her clothes. Her parents were very similar to Theodore’s, hence why they were such good friends. His mother didn’t really care for what he wore in school, because she’d bought all his clothes and taught him how to dress. He knew if he came downstairs dressed like Ryan, much of the same arguments she’d had with him would repeat themselves, and disappointing her was the last thing Theodore would ever want to do.
When Daisy walked past him, the air filled with strawberries, which he’d long associated with math, because she sat in front of him. He watched the curls of her hair and the way she brushed them off her shoulder, leaning forward to take notes, and wondered if he had feelings for her. He knew what his mother had meant by that; not every feeling mattered. Did he like her because she talked to him and came over to study, or was there something else? She was very pretty, but then again, every girl was; he just didn’t know if that made him want to kiss her or not. Glancing at the other girls in class, he didn’t feel anything different. They were all very smart and pretty, but didn’t really stir anything within him. He’d never been in love before, which made it impossible to know what that felt like, but maybe it was because he just hadn’t met the right girl yet.
He started paying more attention to girls in school; what kind of perfume they wore, what kind of stuff they were good at and how they made him feel. They were all very nice to him and had a handful of incredible talents too, so hanging out with them was always a good time, unafraid of getting made fun of. The longer he spent with them, the better he understood what Daisy had meant when she’d called the boys in their class stupid. Still, he wasn’t sure if any of those feelings were inherently romantic.
The girls eventually broke off from the boys and started having lunch by themselves, which Theodore was still invited to, for some reason. It was very relieving actually, to know he could still hang out with them, because he had no connection to any of the boys in his class. At least with the girls, he could talk about a wide variety of topics, while the only thing he had in common with the boys was baseball, and even then, his knowledge didn’t go beyond practice.
The fact that he only thought about men under the sheets was… concerning. He tried thinking of some of the girls from school, but it felt even worse since he actually knew them, and looking them in the eye the next day just reminded him of what he’d tried to do the night before. So, he switched to thinking of girls he didn’t know; the blonde ones from the video, strangers on the street, some figment of his imagination. It was… fine, but never enough to push him over the edge, which he’d started doing almost every time now. The more he did it, the harder it was to stop right before. It only ever happened when men populated his thoughts, though; the dads in the pool, the guy from the video, Laith. The only times women showed up was to accompany one of the men, particularly Laith. He wasn’t sure why, but thinking about him with a girl was just too much to handle, even if she usually morphed into a boy when he got close. It didn’t matter.
As the year passed, conversation topics at the girls’ table changed. They still talked of their passions and hobbies, but as birthdays came along and everyone turned sixteen, “boy talk” started to happen. Crushes happened. Makeup, and shoes, and did Scott have a girlfriend? Did Kyle kiss Jessie? Was Donovan a…?
Everything made him uncomfortable. He’d only started getting out of his shell when, suddenly, everyone became obsessed with everybody else’s love life. His friends talked at length about relationships and what they were like, living vicariously through other girls, falling in love with every boy that did anything romantic. Daisy was the only one who had a different approach to that; she dissected those relationships and pointed out the good and the bad. Her opinions were generally agreed upon, but her disdain for boys wasn’t quite as popular. She didn’t care if Scott had a girlfriend or if Donovan liked other boys, but would go into detail about whether Kyle was treating Jessie right or if she deserved better.
Thankfully, none of the girls talked about Theodore; they didn’t ask him about his dating life or if he thought they were pretty. In this circle, they were all equal, even if he generally had no opinion on any of the boys and could neither agree nor disagree with what the girls said about them. Still, they asked him if he thought Scott was cute, if Kyle was funny, and what the baseball team talked about in the locker rooms.
Their interest in his teammates made him start paying more attention to locker room talk and what the guys thought about the girls. Most of what they said was shockingly bad; he tried to lessen the impact of certain words that had been used, but every now and then, someone would confess to a crush or give a genuine compliment, which was always exciting to pass along. The girls loved those comments the most.
“Do you think anyone has a crush on me?” he asked Daisy one day, in the quiet of his study.
She glanced up from her homework with an utterly unreadable expression on her face. “Like who?”
“I don’t know. The girls are always talking about all the other guys, but I just don’t know what they think about me. What if they think I’m a douchebag, like Jack? Or worse, that I don’t care about anyone, like Kyle?”
“They don’t think that. You’re one of us. You know how open we are with each other; if we had something to say to you, we’d say it to your face.”
His eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip worried between his teeth. “What do you think?”
“About you?”
“Yeah.”
“I think you’re quiet. Too quiet sometimes, like you’re afraid to say what’s really on your mind, but you’re smart too, so maybe you’re just thinking, lost in your own head. I noticed that happens a lot.”
“Do you like me?”
“Sure.” She shrugged. “You’re my friend.”
“No, I mean…” His heart skipped. “Do you want to like, kiss me?”
She watched him curiously. “Do you want to kiss me?”
They held the stare. Sheepishly, he shrugged. “Why not? We could try it.”
She seemed to take that into consideration for a moment, shrugging shortly afterwards. “Sure, why not?”
With his heart in his mouth, he leaned over, meeting her halfway for a very soft peck on the lips. When they moved back, he could feel the speed of his pulse pumping through his neck. No fundamental change had happened inside him, like he thought it would. This should’ve been the beginning of a new chapter, but maybe Daisy just wasn’t the one.
“Well?” he asked, heart slowing down. “What did you think?”
Once again, she shrugged. “It was fine.”
Cool, so now they knew what that felt like, and he finally had an answer to his mother, that he had no romantic feelings for Daisy at all. Still, in the pit of his stomach, something gaped with disappointment.
“Are we still friends?” he asked, leg bouncing under the table.
“Yeah, of course. You’re like, the only guy I talk to.”
“Isn’t that weird?”
“Why would it be?”
“I don’t know; it just feels like the school is divided now, boys and girls. The only time they talk to each other is to date. Isn’t that… bizarre?”
She hummed. “When you put it that way, it does seem pretty weird, but you have to remember we’ve never gotten along in the first place. If anything, this is the first time boys and girls really have anything in common.”
“We have things in common.”
“I know. Obviously, the world isn’t black and white; there are always shades of gray—our friendship is in it. I’m not attracted to you, but I can still call you a friend as much as I call Hannah a friend.”
“Wait, what about Nadia?”
“Well, she’s my best friend. There is a difference.”
Best friend, huh. He’d never stopped to think about that. “What’s the difference?”
“We just get along better. She gets me.”
Hm. Well, he didn’t think anyone at school understood him at all, especially considering how distant he felt from the girls who saw him every day, which ruled out anyone his own age. If family counted, then his answer was obvious: his mother. Out of everyone, she knew him the best.
After Daisy went home, he told his mother about the kiss. She’d been setting the table for dinner and went completely still, green eyes wide on her face, locked on him. Slowly, she placed the last plate down.
“Are you dating?” she asked, a softness in her tone, delicate.
“No, we’re just friends; we just wanted to try it out.”
Very thoughtfully, she nodded. “If you think about trying anything else with her, you have to tell me before it happens.”
“Okay.”
Picking up a glass, she motioned towards him, so he’d help with the table. He joined her without even thinking.
“Do you have a best friend?” he asked.
“Sure,” she spoke with her eyes down, focused on the silverware and the glasses. “We’ve talked about this before.”
“I mean like, if you have one best friend. The best of all your friends.”
Her eyebrows twitched, hands fixing the silverware on each side of the plate. “If I could only choose one, then I’d choose your father.”
Was that cheating? It seemed like a cop-out answer. “Well, you’re my best friend.”
She laughed, a small snicker that tugged on her lips and put a condescending grin on her face. “No, sweetheart; Daisy’s your best friend.”
Oh. Was that right? Even if he wasn’t her best friend in return? He wasn’t sure how that worked, and after dinner, went up to Ryan’s room to investigate. His brother had just gotten home, still dressed the same way he’d left this morning, backpack placed at the foot of the bed. Theodore took a seat as Ryan kicked his shoes off.
“Do you have a best friend?”
“Uh.” Blonde eyebrows pinched together, shoes falling to the ground with a dull noise. “Laith, I guess.”
A breath caught in his throat. “Really?” He felt his eyebrows all the way up his forehead. “Why?”
“I dunno. He gets me.”
If that was really what constituted a best friend, then Daisy definitely wasn’t his best friend, and since his mother wasn’t his best friend either, then he just didn’t have one.
“Are you his best friend?”
Ryan shrugged, pulling his jacket off. “Probably not. I don’t know; I don’t give a shit. Now get out of here so I can change.”
As far as he could tell, having a best friend wasn’t necessarily a two-way street, and he could have his mother as his best friend without being hers in return. If she asked, he’d say it was Daisy, but he was fairly sure that she wouldn’t; she didn’t usually ask the same thing twice.
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