“Dude, seriously?”
“Yeah. That was her way of breaking up with you.”
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling. “We weren’t going out.”
“Okay, well now you’re really not going out, sooo…” Oz emits a low whistle, studying his fingernails. “Fuck off.”
Is he always this impossible? “Is this how you argue with James?”
Shrug. “Yes.”
He has no shame.
“It’s really fucking annoying.”
“But effective.”
“Knock it off and help me.” I sound complain-y but refuse to beg.
“I can’t help you. You have to want to help yourself.”
“I’m not looking for a twelve-step program, dipshit, I’m trying to…” I search for the words. “I’m trying to…”
“Win back the girl?”
I scowl. “When you put it that way it sounds so fucking dumb.”
The bastard smirks and crosses his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Only if you’re an asshole. And you are, sooo…”
Good point. “All right, so what the hell do I do?”
“Depends. How serious are you? I mean, you can’t go through all this effort to apologize and shit and then not do anything with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you better fucking pony up if you’re going to grovel. And obviously give back all her shit, her backpack and stuff. Date her and commit and whatever.”
I can do that.
I can date her and commit.
I think.
I mean, I’ve never done it before, but how hard can it be? “What if I’m bad at it?”
“Dude, let’s be honest, you’re going to be a horrible boyfriend. Like, the fucking worst. You’re already off to a shitty start.”
“What the hell, Osborne.”
His hands go up in surrender. “Hey! You said you wanted me to be honest, I’m being honest.”
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
“Immensely.”
“Where are Violet and Summer? I thought they were coming with us?” Kyle buckles his seat belt.
“Not today, buddy, sorry.”
“Why not?”
I sit quietly, debating between lying and telling him the truth. It’s my fault his little friend isn’t here and the poor freaking kid is going to be bummed. And pissed. “They’re not coming with us to the batting cages because I’m an asshole.”
He shoots me a sidelong, judgey glance, narrowing his beady little eyes. “You know you’re not supposed to be swearing. It’s in the rulebook.”
The one I still haven’t read.
“I know, I know, but sometimes there aren’t any words but curse words to get a point across.”
He commiserates with a rub to his chin like he’s rubbing a beard. “True.”
“Anyway, Violet’s pissed. I hurt her feelings ’cause I’m a dumbass, so I don’t think we’ll be seeing her or Summer for a while. Not until I can figure something out.”
“What happened?”
“I, uh, wasn’t nice to her in front of my friends. It made her feel sad.”
He scrunches up his face distastefully. “Why’d you do that? I thought you were friends.”
“I don’t know, because I’m an idiot, remember? I think I freaked.”
Admitting that out loud makes it that much worse, because clearly, the more self-reflection I engage in, the more I’m convinced I’m actually just a giant pussy, not the badass I originally thought.
It’s sobering.
“My mom says you clearly have abandonment issues,” Kyle says so casually I have no idea how to respond. “Hey Zeke?”
“Yeah buddy?”
“What are abandonment issues?”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I consider my answer. “It means…a person thinks if they keep their heart closed, then no one in their life can abandon or reject them.”
I rattle off a definition I read on Wikipedia just last night, after my little girl talk in the kitchen with Oz when he told me I had issues.
The problems associated with abandonment are typically wrong, one article read. Abandonment, in simple terms, is essentially a heart that’s been closed off.
A broken heart.
“What does a heart closed mean?” Kyle innocently wants to know, and now I’m sorry I started this fucking conversation.
“It means…” I pause to think. “It means not letting people in your life—like not telling them shit. Not getting to know people even if you’re hanging out with them.”
“Do you do that?”
Do I? Uh, yeah.
“Yes.”
“Why? Is it because of your parents sucking?”
I laugh at his unexpected choice of verbiage. “Yeah, I think so. Remember how I told you they were never around? Still aren’t?”
He nods.
“Well, I really missed them when I was little. I cried a lot, and the people taking care of me used to get really mad and yell a lot, which just made me cry more, and all I wanted was for my mom and dad to come home.”
But they rarely did.
“Did you have a home?”
“Lots of them,” I admit. “But I lived with aunts and uncles. Once my parents were home for Easter. We took a trip down to Florida and I played in the ocean while they sat on the beach.”