When Everything Is Blue(50)

“I don’t know. You’re so good at everything, Theo. I figured being weird was one more thing you were good at.” She shakes her head. “But I realize you probably had a lot on your mind, and because you don’t tell anyone anything….” Here she pauses to give me an accusing look, then rolls her eyes to further her point. “Anyway, I’m sorry I was rude to you on your birthday. Whoever did that… they suck, and if there’s anything I can do—”

“It’s fine, Tabs. I’m handling it. Just… don’t tell Dad, okay?”

She looks stricken. Her mouth falls open a little. “I wouldn’t, Theo. Trust me. And I’m sorry about that night at dinner. If I had known….” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I should have just….” I drift off, not knowing what I should have done… cared less? Kept it all bottled up inside? That’s the story of my life. “Anyway, I’m sorry too. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

“Then you shouldn’t do things to make me so mad.” She punches my shoulder playfully. Her phone dings, and she checks it.

“Can you believe this shit?” she demands, shaking her phone in the air like the device is the problem. I figure it can only mean she’s found the controversy brewing online—What’s in Wooten’s mouth and why does it matter?

I watch as she furiously types into her phone.

“You’re not commenting, are you?” I bury my head in the pillow, dreading her answer.

“Of course I am. I’m not going to let them get away with this. Carson Fuller is dead to me.”

Carson is one of the guys calling me a faggot with AIDS and blaming gays for the economy. I’m surprised he even knows enough about the economy to make the leap. I really bring out the crazy in people, apparently.

“You can’t take them all on,” I tell her, though I’m flattered she would try.

“Yes, I can. They can’t treat my brother like this.” Her face is pinched and furious, and I realize that same fierce protection she exhibits for our father, she also has for me.

“I appreciate it, Tabs. I’m going to stay off the interwebs for a while, so don’t feel like you have to keep me updated.”

“Don’t worry, Theo. I got this.”

I stand to go take a shower, then shove her on impulse.

“What was that for?” she asks.

“That’s me showing affection,” I tell her.

She smiles and holds up both arms, asking for a hug. “Come on, it’s not going to kill you.”

“It might.”

She turns her wrists, insisting, so I reach down and hug her.

“See, that doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“A little.”

I grab some clothes and head out to the hall bathroom to take a shower, thinking how lucky I am to have Chris and my sister on my side. And my mom. Apparently Uncle Theo as well. Then I think about Dave being kicked out by his parents and find myself feeling sorry for him again, wishing he hadn’t gotten drunk and been so spiteful as to spread that picture of me around, because I could have been a friend to him too. Fucking asshole.

Afterward I’m alone in my bedroom when I hear something buzzing outside my window. I glance over to see a big, black bug. A bat? Shit, am I seeing things now? I go over and pull up the blinds. It’s a drone. I throw up the window to find Chris is in his driveway, holding a remote control. “Come over,” he calls. “My parents’ flight got delayed, and I’m bored.”

I tell Tabitha I’m going next door. She’s moved to the living room but remains glued to her phone. Even though it’d probably be better for all of us if she didn’t suffer the trolls, it’s the thought that counts.

Next door, Chris seems to know I’ll be hungry, because he’s pulled out the leftovers from my sister’s birthday party, and we pick through the platters and tubs of salads until we’re both full. Then we head upstairs and play video games. Chris is telling me about this story he saw online about a cockroach that crawled up a woman’s nose while she was sleeping and how she could feel it scooting around inside her head, so she went to the doctor and some surgeons had to operate on her to get it out.

“She said when it moved around it made her eyes burn,” Chris says, squinting. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, like he’s waiting for my reaction—he knows how I feel about roaches. Creepy, crawly little fuckers. Just when you think you’ve killed them, they’re all, psyche, then they reanimate and scurry away.

“That’s such bullshit,” I tell him. Chris has been known to exaggerate or even make shit up in order to freak me out. He’s good at it too.

“I’m not lying, T. There’s a YouTube video of the surgery and everything.”

“Did you watch it?”

“Hell no. I don’t like roaches either.”

“Pull it up.” I pause the game and set down the controller.

“You don’t believe me?” he says like I’ve insulted him, still with that mischievous grin on his face.

“Pull it up and we’ll watch it together.” He pulls out his phone and finds the video, shows me the story to prove he’s not lying. We dare each other to watch it, going back and forth like morons until I finally just hit the Play button. It’s only about two minutes long, but the shit is straight-up nasty and totally makes me want to barf, yet neither of us can look away. There are tubes all in the woman’s nose and mouth and some god-awful long instrument like a tiny snake the surgeons are manipulating. And here’s the grossest part: the cockroach is still alive when they pull it out. You can see its legs twitching and everything. Chris keeps saying holy shit over and over again.