The Art of Losing(52)

Eventually, he would come and pet Floyd—or, more accurately, they would wrestle—and sometimes he’d even walk with us for a little while. But after months of this, I felt it was time for an escalation.

Plus, Cassidy was at the beach with her family for a week and my other friends lived too far away for me to walk to their houses. So I was bored enough to voluntarily leave the house and enter the heat wave that July afternoon.

Raf and his friend were walking ahead slowly, and as soon as the door was open, Floyd ran as fast as he could, dragging me behind at the end of his leash until we caught up. He then immediately crammed his nose in Raf’s friend’s crotch.

“Sorry! God, he’s the worst,” I said, scolding Floyd and pulling him away. He was a strong dog, and defiant on top of it, but Raf’s friend just crouched down with Floyd and scrubbed at the black Lab’s soft ears while he slobbered kisses all over his neck.

Raf caught me grinning at the sight and frowned. “Hey,” he said. “Your dog’s accosting my friend. And frankly, I’m a little upset he snubbed me.”

I smiled wider. “You can’t blame him for having good taste,” I said. “It’s best to accept this loss and move on. You’d look better with a brunette anyway.” My cheeks flushed, but I hoped it was covered by the fact that my entire body was pink from the heat.

Raf’s friend and Floyd had finished their make-out session by then. The friend stood and offered a wave to me.

“Hey, I’m Paul,” he said. “Your dog’s awesome.”

“Are you planning to make an honest man out of him after that?” I said.

Paul’s mouth opened, but Raf interrupted.

“Don’t even try,” Raf said. “Floyd and I already have a relationship; you can’t just walk in and try to steal him from me. He may be fickle, but my memory is long.”

Paul laughed, but I couldn’t help but wish that Raf was actually talking about me.

We walked for a few blocks, but when Floyd started panting, I told them I had to turn around.

“You should come hang out with us tonight,” Raf said.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He shrugged. “We’ve got some beer, and we’re going to sneak out and drink them in the park once my parents are asleep.”

“Sounds thrilling,” I said, trying to sound calm even though I was suddenly sweating even more. “But sure, I’ll come.”

That night, I crept past the creaky bedroom door, down the stairs, and out the basement door. The humid night air felt like an omen as sweat gathered on the backs of my thighs and pooled on my upper lip. I fretted about the lip gloss I was wearing and eventually decided to wipe it off on the back of my hand instead of letting it melt on my lips.

I’d been early, but as the minutes sailed by without any sign of Raf and Paul, not even a whisper of the door opening, I got nervous. After more than an hour, I finally went back inside to the welcome icy blast of air-conditioning, which made the wet tracks of my tears tingle with cold.

I never heard from Raf about what had happened, even though we’d exchanged phone numbers that day. I was too proud to text him after my initial “You still coming?” message that had gone unanswered. He didn’t even come outside to play basketball until the fall. I made Audrey walk Floyd after school so I could avoid seeing him.

I guess he avoided me, too.





Chapter Thirteen



We drove home in silence. I was trying to puzzle out what had happened, what I’d accomplished in that room, if anything. Maybe Raf was, too.

He slowed to a stop between our two houses. I had my hand on the car door handle when he said, “Want to come over?”

I turned back. His eyes, dark in the moonlight, were hopeful.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I concentrated on my footsteps in the grass. One step at a time. Only when his bedroom door was behind us did I trust myself to speak.

“I—”

“So, what you said tonight at the meeting,” Raf started to say.

“Sorry,” I said, cutting him off. “I mean, I’m sorry about that. I hope I didn’t offend anyone.”

He was shaking his head before I had even finished. “No, Harley, what you said was good. It was a reminder of the consequences of using. And not just for me, for everyone in the room. Elaine was really glad you shared tonight.”

“She wasn’t sure about me at first, was she?” I said. “She thought I might bring too much joy to the room, I bet.”

Raf laughed a little. I liked making him laugh. “Nah, she’s cool. Open meetings are just that: open. She just wanted to be sure you wouldn’t be judgmental about what people were saying in there.”

I opened my mouth to protest and then closed it. It made sense. As far as Elaine knew, I had never experienced anything even close to the problems that the people in that room had.

“It’s just, addicts sometimes feel like . . . Well, the phrase is ‘a gold-plated piece of shit the world revolves around.’”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “And that means?”

“Essentially, that we realize we are pieces of shit, but we think we are the shiniest, most important pieces of shit that the world has ever seen. So what we need, what we want to do, the decisions we make, it’s all way more important than anything or anyone else. That’s how an addict’s mind works.”