Chapter 35
Jamison
I’ve had a little bit of pep in my step the last couple of days if I’m being completely honest. I’m trying not to get too used to it because from my experience, happiness never lasts long, but ever since Claire and I spent the night together, I can’t seem to wipe this goddamn smile off of my face.
Of course, like always, there were parts when I nearly fucked it all up.
Like when I let my lack of nicotine, and forgiveness, get the best of me.
But even then, Claire and all of her goodness seemed to rectify it.
We spent the whole night getting to know each other physically and the whole next day learning one another in every other way.
Most of me is terrified — scared beyond belief to be giving this much of myself to someone, but it’s like I can’t control it.
When I’m with her, I’m another version of myself.
A version that is more relaxed, more open, and more like the person that I want to be.
Like the type of person who talks about the type of person they want to be.
Which is why I am here, at Sean’s house, voluntarily showing up without force or a guilt trip.
I step onto Sean’s porch and put out my cigarette before knocking on his teal door, amazed as always, that Sean has a teal door.
Most of his house amazes me actually. Sean lives in the house he grew up in, which alone blows my mind.
I lived in so many houses that I wouldn’t even be able to tell you which one was my childhood home because they all were.
Or none of them were. But Sean has lived in this one since he was a kid.
Just recently this year, his parents both retired and decided to buy an RV and travel together.
I thought that only happened in movies until he told me.
So, now Sean lives in a three-bedroom, two-bathroom home in a quiet development, a few streets over from my apartment.
The house is light gray with a white porch railing wrapped around the front, flower boxes hanging from the windows, and a teal wooden door.
“It’s open!” he calls from inside the house.
I texted him earlier saying I was coming by since our days off happened to align.
I haven’t gotten a chance to catch up with him much so far this week.
Holiday weeks are always jam-packed to make up for lost business, and since we're closed on the Fourth, this week is no different. Normally, I wouldn’t think anything of it, but Claire has asked more than once if Sean is okay after this weekend.
I’m hit with the smell of ramen noodles first thing in the morning as I pass through the door.
Sean may live in his mother’s house but her home-cooked meals left when she did.
Where Mrs. Bell would make hearty comfort foods like beef stew and shepherd's pie, Sean now gets by on frozen burritos and packaged noodles.
“Dude, I swear to God if you aren’t wearing pants…
” I yell down the hall before entering the living room.
The last time I was here, Sean was three episodes deep in a Law and Order Special Victims Unit marathon, drinking soda through a Twizzler straw and not wearing pants.
Is he a sixteen-year-old girl going through a break-up? No, he just relaxes like one.
“No promises!” he calls back and thankfully for him, he’s kidding. He is, however, eating ramen with plastic training chopsticks with a smiling panda at the top.
“Sometimes I question how you’re an actual adult,” I say looking at his meal. He shovels a heap of noodles into his mouth, slurping up the ends. He chews only half before speaking.
“I’m a grownup when I have to be. And otherwise…” He gestures to his current situation. The TV loop today is Cops reruns and there’s no Twizzler straw, but that panda is definitely looking at me.
“Well, grownup,” I mock, “Are we going to talk about Neon Nights?”
“No.” He stops me immediately, and I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or hurt.
From what Zeke has been talking about at the garage, Maddie seems to have found herself a new boyfriend in the guy she was dancing with at the club.
If anyone understands not wanting to talk about the shit that bothers them, it’s me, so I follow his lead and shut it down.
“Okay then, so what else is up?” He gets up and puts his bowl and chopsticks in the sink.
“Nothing really.” He spins around, folds his arms, and leans on the kitchen counter.
I’ve known Sean for a while now and at this point, I can tell something’s bothering him.
Unlike me, he usually does want to talk about things, so adding that into the mix, seals the deal that he knows about Maddie and it’s bumming him out.
I try to switch subjects to something that usually excites him — social gatherings.
“Are we still grilling for the Fourth now that your dad’s not here to burn the burgers?”
The last couple of years that Sean and I have been friends, he has had a small group of people over to celebrate the Fourth of July.
It’s usually just the guys from the shop, Ronan and Mikey, and a couple of other stragglers, hanging out, drinking a few beers, and listening to Sean’s terrible taste in music.
Mr. Bell always dries out the burgers and Mrs. Bell always makes up for it in sides — potato salad, pasta salad, cornbread, and homemade mac and cheese.
It’s the type of celebration I don’t mind — a small crowd of people I mostly know, laid-back food, and no fancy dress code.
“Sure are. I told Mikey and Ronan when I saw them at the restaurant and the guys at the shop when I was there yesterday. I invited my neighbors but they probably won’t come and now I’m telling you. I guess that’s pretty much it.”
I want to ask if he maybe invited Maddie, but I have a feeling I already know the answer. I also want to ask if I can bring Claire, but I don’t want to rub having someone to bring in his face.
“Bring Claire,” Sean says before I even get the chance to ask. His voice is low but sincere. “And she can bring whoever. The more the merrier.”
This guy’s a class act. He’s a total weirdo, but one of the nicest guys I know.
“Thanks, buddy,” I reply as he stares at the floor. He pushes off the counter and saunters back to the couch. Right before he sits, he looks back at me, still only halfway in the room.
“You too, man,” he says and he doesn’t have to explain.
He sits on the couch and turns the volume up on the TV.
I glance around the room before heading toward the couch.
It’s only when I look back at where I’m coming from, that I see it.
Sitting right on the edge of the counter closest to the doorframe is a small black box still wrapped neatly in a purple bow.
It hits me then just how lucky I am. You have a guy like me — a complete wreck, a shitty past, and not a pot to piss in.
And then you have a guy like Sean — capable of both growing up and letting loose, a loving family, a stable home, and fucking Twizzler straws and panda chopsticks.
One of us has someone who, for whatever reason, seems to be interested in sticking around, and one of us can’t even seem to get noticed.
Never in my life did I think I would be the lucky one.
I shoot a text to Claire just letting her know I’m thinking about her. This is all new to me, but I’m leaning into saying how I feel when the timing seems right. Then, I set down my phone and my pack of cigarettes and join Sean on the couch, as sirens pour from the TV.
“So, what’d this guy do?” I ask as the camera zooms in on a cop following a truck in a high-speed chase.
“Oh, this is good,” Sean says sitting up. “You’re never going to believe this.”