12. Twelve #2
“Yup. For the record, you did nothing wrong that day. I was just upset because my mother and Mick were fighting and they’d kept me up all night and …
” He seemed to realize what he’d said and looked conflicted on how to continue.
He’d brought up the M-word. I still wasn’t ready to talk about the Mick situation.
“She said not everybody wants to be me,” I blurted.
That was enough to draw his attention back to me. “Who said not everybody wants to be you?”
I took a deep breath. “Lucy,” I explained. “I told her she needed to get a job and she only had two weeks to start contributing or I was going to kick her out.”
He nodded encouragingly. “Good job. I’ll serve as your bouncer when it’s time to kick her out if you want. I still owe her for that Kit Kat.”
I almost laughed again. I had to give him credit. He was still holding one heckuva grudge about that Kit Kat. It was almost glorious how petty he was being. Then I remembered the other part of my conversation with Lucy, and my smile disappeared.
“I told her that it wasn’t her fault that she’d ended up this way because Mom and I had enabled her to become this person,” I said in a soft voice. “I said that she wasn’t really living her life, and it was time she started.
“She came back with some stuff about me being too serious and never living my life,” I continued. “She said nobody wants to be me.”
Huxley’s expression darkened. “Excuse me?”
“She said that nobody wants to be me, and just because I live life a certain way, that doesn’t mean she wants to live life the same way.
Then she added that nobody wants to be me.
” I was venturing into babbling territory, and I couldn’t stop myself.
“And she’s right. Nobody wants to be me.
I wasn’t trying to force her to be me, though.
I just wanted her to be accountable for one thing in her life.
I didn’t think that was too much to ask. ”
I expected him to be soft and placating when he responded. Instead, he gripped my wrist tighter, and I jerked up my eyes to search his fierce face. There was nothing soft about him.
“You listen to me,” he said on a half-growl. “You have always been your own person.”
“You mean a geek.”
“Yeah, but that word doesn’t have the connotation you seem to be assigning it,” he countered. “You have always gone your own way. I was too afraid of what other people would think back then. I wanted to be cool so badly. You were always cool. You just didn’t realize it.”
“Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “You never thought I was cool.”
“At the time, I didn’t realize you were cool,” he conceded. “Now, though, all I see when I look at you is cool.”
“Like the Fonz?” It was a stupid thing to say. It just slipped out.
He smirked. “I can’t believe you just used the Fonz and ‘cool’ in the same sentence. How do you even know who he is? He was long before our time.”
“I met him at a convention once. He was so sweet. He let me try on his leather jacket.”
“I met him at a convention too, and he was pretty great.”
“Did I ever tell you about the time I met Worf?” Why I was changing the subject was beyond me, but I wanted to talk about anything but Lucy’s biting words.
He didn’t let me off the hook. “You can tell me all about it in a second. We need to get through this first.”
Of course. Well, great. I was going to start crying again if I wasn’t careful.
“Lucy probably isn’t a bad person,” he acknowledged. “The Kit Kat incident notwithstanding, of course.”
I pressed my lips together; certain I was going to start laughing.
“You’re right that she was taught to live a certain way, and it’s working against her now,” he continued. “You’re not responsible for Lucy, though. I know I’ve already told you that, but I need you to really hear it. She has got to start taking care of herself. That’s the way the world works.”
He took a deep breath. “As for nobody wanting to be like you, that’s not true, Wylie,” he continued.
“You have always been cool, and not because you know Klingon. I still find that weird, and I know the story about meeting Worf is going to give me indigestion. It’s because you were always comfortable being you.
That’s what makes you cool. Don’t listen to Lucy. She’s just being defensive.”
“I know that,” I admitted. “She looked as if she wanted to take it back right away. It’s just hard for me. I’ve never been good at holding my ground.”
“It’s because you’re too sweet,” he lamented. “You’ve always let people walk all over you. It’s time you put yourself first, however. You get to be the star of your own story.”
Nobody had ever given me such an ego boost. I didn’t know what to make of it. “Do you really think I’m cool?” I challenged.
He barked out a laugh. “Do you doubt what I’m saying?”
“Yes.” I jutted out my chin. “Name one thing I’ve done that you think is cool.”
“Oh, see, you’re putting me on the spot.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Fine.” He cocked his head, and I knew he was scanning his memories. I was certain he was going to come up empty until he smiled. “Do you remember when the first season of The Walking Dead came out? Back then, everybody was crazy for the show.”
“Yes.” I bobbed my head. “Before Negan showed up and ruined everything.”
“There was a girl at one of the conventions,” he prodded. “She was about seven or eight, and there was this rowdy group of boys who were in line to meet one of the actors — I can’t remember which one — but the boys were in the line with the girl, who was dressed up in a costume.
“The boys were giving her a hard time because they said a girl couldn’t be as cool as whatever character she was dressed up as, and she started crying,” he continued.
“You swooped right in and told her that she could be whatever she wanted and not to listen to them. Within two minutes, you had her laughing, and then you made those boys want to cry when you introduced her to the actor.”
I turned sheepish. “I had just met him thanks to Mom. She’d arranged it before the doors opened that morning. It was a total fluke.”
“No, Wylie, it was you,” he insisted. “You have always been cool, and you made that girl’s day. I bet she still remembers you.”
“It was nothing.”
“Stop being self-deprecating. Your biggest problem is that you’ve never believed in yourself the way others believe in you.”
I fell silent for several seconds and actually thought about what he’d said. “Do you think that Lucy will believe in me one day?”
“She already does, Wylie. That’s why she came to you.” He squeezed my wrist again. He’d never let it go. “Lucy is feeling defensive. Once she calms down, she’ll realize you’re actually looking out for her.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“She will.”
“But —”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s time you believe in yourself, Wylie Dixon.”
And when he said it like that, for the first time in my whole life, I wanted to believe. Maybe that would be enough.