Chapter Twenty-Six Julian #3
“Let’s go. I spotted a diner up the road on the way here. Pancakes on me.”
Ten minutes later, the three of us are seated in a comfortable booth at The Silver Dollar, an old mom-and-pop diner I used to go to with Aunt Edna every Saturday growing up. Eric couldn’t have known that, but it feels special, all the same. I get teary-eyed just looking at the giant accordion menu.
When the server reaches our table, Eric says, “Bacon for the dog, and pancakes for us. Blueberry for me, peanut butter for him. Extra whipped cream.”
“How much extra?” the server asks.
“Does it come in a bottle? Bring the bottle.”
The server salutes, and Eric turns back to me. “Okay, Julian, let me have it.”
I lay it all out. The whole saga. Aunt Edna’s passing, the fight with Nomi, her mystery illness, the feeling that Tonuto’s out to get her, my promising conversation with Dr. Riveras, immediately followed by Dr. Appa’s mind-exploding offer.
“AND I just found he’s dating my mom?!” I grab the can of Reddi-wip one-handed and spray it directly into my upturned mouth, which turns out, is pretty dangerous when you’re trying not to hyperventilate.
“Okay, don’t aspirate on that.” Eric pries the can of whipped cream out of my hand. “No wonder you’re stressed out and smoking joints at funerals. This is a lot.”
I don’t know if it’s getting it all out or just hearing wise, sage Eric, agree that what I’m going through is too much, but after a few minutes, I’m able to breathe again. This time, the emotional support whipped cream slides down my throat the way it’s supposed to.
“What should I do, Eric?” I feed BonBon the last of his bacon. He farts. “Bless you,” I whisper.
Eric smirks. “Well, you’re already nailing step one.”
“Which is?”
“Feeling your feelings. The only way out is through, my friend, and you’re doing a great job feeling your grief.”
I huff. “The one thing I wish I sucked at.”
“Well, usually you do,” Eric muses. “You’ve been letting your brain drive your whole life, from what I can tell. All strategy, no heart. Maybe letting your feelings take control for once would help.”
“My feelings want me to cry and eat canned whipped cream and adopt gassy dogs. Not the smartest.”
“Feelings don’t have to be true, or right, or smart. They just have to be felt.”
“I don’t have time to sit around and mope, Eric. I need to figure out what the fuck I’m doing so I can keep my life from imploding.” I fork a giant bite of pancake into my mouth, just to feel productive.
“Okay,” Eric says. “Let’s do a thought experiment. Imagine it’s next summer, and you’re happy. Form a picture in your mind. Where are you?”
“With Nomi,” I answer immediately.
“In Sparrow Nook?” Eric cuts a bite. “Philadelphia?”
“Surfside Pier,” I murmur, the glimmer of neon lights painting the scene in my mind. “In Wildwood.”
“Okay, it’s Saturday night, and you’re at Surfside Pier with Nomi. You’re holding hands, licking each other’s ice cream cones, I don’t know. Something romantic. Then you remember that Monday, you’re scheduled for a shift at Dr. Srinivasan’s clinic. How does that feel in your body?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you feel thinking that your Wildwood trip ends with you reporting back to the clinic. Don’t reach for thoughts. Reach for the feelings.”
I try, but there are no feelings, really. Just the happiness at spending the weekend with Nomi. “I don’t think this is working.”
“Why?”
“I feel nothing. Or calm, maybe? It’s just… a statement you said.”
“Let’s back up. It’s Saturday night in Wildwood, but this time, you remember you’re working a shift at Philly Gen.”
I wince.
Eric leans over with interest. “How do you feel in your body now?”
It doesn’t take long to find the ball of dread bobbing up and down in my middle. “Anxious.”
Eric leans back, gesturing with his fork and knife like bon appétit.
I scoff. “Just because I feel anxious about Philly Gen doesn’t mean I shouldn’t work there. Sometimes life is hard, and we live it anyway. We make the hard decisions because they make us stronger, better—”
“Happier?” Eric asks, one eyebrow raised.
I fork another piece of pancake into my mouth instead of answering.
“See, this is what I mean. When your brain is in charge, you ignore your body’s feelings.
But what happens when someone lives their whole life pushing through anxiety and stress because they think it will make them a better person?
Do they ever get to stop and choose what makes them feel happy instead? ”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
Eric shakes his head, then cuts into another pancake.
A particularly fat blueberry bursts under the pressure of his knife, which, relatable.
“In a world full of leisurewear, you choose the hair shirt every time, Julian, because somewhere along the way, you became convinced you don’t get to relax.
You don’t get to be comfortable. You don’t get to be happy. Not unless you earn it.”
“Exactly. I’ll do all of that when I earn it, and I haven’t yet.”
“But when will that be? What will it take? It wasn’t when you graduated college summa cum laude or aced medical school.
It wasn’t landing that fellowship at Philly Gen, either.
I’d venture to say that, for as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you truly happy.
Just varying stages of stressed the hell out and miserable.
” Eric pauses to chew. “What if you’re not a grouchy asshole at all?
What if you’ve just been in a very bad mood your whole life because you keep making bad choices? ”
“Bad choices?!” I clutch BonBon in outrage. “I’m incredibly successful—I could hardly be more successful!” Frowning, I add, “Except for the last four months.”
“So, is it enough?” Eric asks mildly. “Can you let yourself be happy now?”
I gape at him. Eric tilts his head to the side.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” My head droops. “I’ve ruined Nomi’s chance at opening her dispensary, and now she’ll never forgive me.”
“Has she said that?”
“No,” I bite out, sounding surlier than I mean to. “But then I went and freaked out about her hiding her illness, and now she wants space. How am I supposed to win her back when she doesn’t want to see me?”
“There’s no winning someone, that’s your toxic achiever speaking.
Ask yourself why Nomi might not want to share something major with you specifically and see if that gives you insight.
And honestly, Julian, this is the perfect time to be your most obnoxiously tenacious self and show her you’ll be there for her, no matter what she’s going through.
Give her reason to trust you, and she will. What are you doing?”
I look up from my napkin. “Taking notes. How else am I supposed to remember all this?”
Eric smiles. “A star student, to the end.”
“But what about Tonuto?” I use the pen to scratch BonBon’s chin. “How do I prove he’s up to something?”
“I don’t know but sounds like you’ve got the D’Angelos on the case, and if they’re as tenacious as you are, they’ll help you figure it out.”
“They’re nothing like me,” I say on reflex, but that’s not true, is it?
Marco’s just as driven about owning his own small business as I’ve been pursuing medicine.
Veronica’s as cutthroat a real estate agent as I was a medical school student.
Vinny, Aldo, Ellio, even Aunt Patty in the Acme checkout line—they’re all as dedicated to doing what they love as I’ve been to the things I don’t.
So, who has really been more successful?
And can I finally stop pretending that it’s me?
With the pancakes eaten and the bill paid, Eric extends a hand to me, then pulls me and BonBon in for a tight, bracing hug. “You’re doing great, kid.”
“You’re ten years older than me. At most.” But Eric doesn’t hear me because the hug’s somehow morphed into a headlock, and he’s too busy giving me a vigorous noogie to listen to anything I say. “E-ric!”
“Ahh…” He finally releases me with a satisfied grin. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
“That was completely unprofessional.” I fumble to straighten my glasses. “And inappropriate!”
“What can I say?” Eric grins. “You make it look fun.”