The Gravity of Nothing by Chase Connor
One of my very good Twitter buddies, Chase Connor, has a new book coming out today!
Blurb:
All stories start with “once upon a time” and end with “happily ever after.” Except for Tom’s. Tom’s story ends with “happily never after.”
But a life is full of “once upon a times” because a life is full of stories. Everything in between the “once upon a times” is just details.
Two boys met on a bus. Two boys went to summer camp. Two boys walked into the woods together. Two boys swam in the lake.
One boy was assaulted. One boy was frozen with fear.
One boy became overwhelmed by everything. One boy was dragged down by the gravity of nothing.
This is a story of two boys. They met. They became best friends. And now one of them is dead.
Over the course of this book, Tom tells a story to the other people in his therapy group. But, whose story is he telling?
Excerpt:
Walking away from the front doors of the community center, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pack of cigarettes. I flipped the top and fished out the lighter that had been slid into the space left by cigarettes already smoked. Then I pulled out one of the cigarettes and brought it to my lips. My hands wanted to shake, but I wouldn’t allow it, as I lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. I stepped over to one of the long brick planters, that, unsurprisingly, had nothing planted in it, and sat down on the edge. I deposited the lighter back into the empty space in the cardboard pack and shoved the entirety back into my pocket as I exhaled blue smoke.
“Can I bum one of those?”
I turned my head to find a guy standing there. Immediately, I realized that he was the only other guy in group who hadn’t said anything when everyone else took turns asking me questions or interrupting me. He was scrawny, tall, lanky, gangly. His long sleeve shirt—no coat in this cold weather—was baggy on him. His baggy jeans were barely kept on his waist by a tightly cinched belt. His dark hair was buzzed close to his head. His clothes, and the guy himself, looked well washed and clean, but the bagginess of them made him look as though he was dirty.
“How old are you?” I snorted, turning my eyes from him again.
“Nineteen.”
“Don’t believe it for a second.”
“What else don’t you believe?” He asked.
I pulled the pack out of my pocket and held it out to him without actually looking at him again.
“Take as many as you want.” I said.
Take your cigarettes and go.
The guy took the pack from me, took only one, lit it, then put my lighter back into the pack before handing it back to me. I retrieved it from him and shoved it back into my pocket once again. The other attendees walked out in a loud group together, glanced at us, then continued on their way, walking in a group down the sidewalk to parts unknown. They probably lived nearby.
“John killed Dally?” The guy who had bummed the cigarette asked.
“I’m kind of having quiet time here.”
“I bet you don’t get a lot of quiet time.” The guy said. “I bet your brain talks a lot, huh?”
Taking another drag off of my cigarette, I decided to just ignore the kid.
“I have anxiety, too.” He said. “My thoughts go, like, ninety-to-nothing most of the time. It’s like I can’t stop myself from thinking no matter how hard I try. Sometimes I can’t even sleep because of how much my brain just keeps going and going.”
I turned my head to look him in the eyes.
“You don’t have anxiety.” I spit a piece of tobacco out with the tip of my tongue. “You had a meth problem. Now you’re suffering the after-effects of that.”
He frowned at me.
“When you do meth, probably long-term, but not so long that it gave you major skin problems or tooth and hair loss, you stop mentally maturing at the age you started.” I took another drag. “The longer you are clean, the more quickly your brain will start catching up to your actual, physical age. You’ll learn the emotional and psychological skills you should already have at your age—which isn’t nineteen—and slowly you’ll start putting weight back on. Might even be able to wear that shirt and those jeans without looking like a scarecrow.”
The kid swallowed hard.
“Now…I would like to be alone.” I nodded. “Please.”
“I’m nineteen.” He stammered. “I just look young and I’m small I guess.”
Then it was a great choice to do meth.
I thought it.
I wasn’t rude enough to actually say it.
“Look, dude—” I breathed out heavily but didn’t turn to look at him again, “I don’t care what you’ve done, or whether or not you lied about your age, okay? I just want to be alone.”
For several moments, the kid stood there, smoking the cigarette I’d let him have and watched me. I stared straight ahead, pretending that he wasn’t there. I could ignore him, just like I could ignore anxiety and depression.
“Did John kill Dally?” He asked again, tapping his cigarette to knock off ashes.
“Why the fuck do you care?” I turned to snap at him.
He jerked slightly.
Scared the recovering meth-head.
Points for Tom.
“Because I want to know how the story ends.” He said in a small voice, sounding as though he would run away, but he didn’t.
“You’re looking at the end of the story.” I said. “Here, outside of this shitty community center. Smoking a cigarette, anxious and depressed, trying to make some kid who lies about his reason for being in a group leave him the fuck alone. That’s how the story ends. The rest is just details.”
The kid stared at me.
“You said all ‘once upon a times’ get a ‘happily ever after’.” He squeaked.
“I said mine ended with a ‘happily never after’, kid.” I replied evenly. “But who knows? Maybe yours will be different. Is that what you want? Someone to assure you that if you stay sober, don’t do meth again, do your steps, go to your appointments and meetings and get yourself together that your ‘once upon a time’ hasn’t actually happened yet? That maybe it starts sometime in the future?”
“Yeah.” He nodded meekly. “I guess.”
“Well, come back on a different day.” I ashed my cigarette. “Today you won’t get the answer you want.”
About Chase Connor:
Chase Connor currently lives in Des Moines, Iowa with his husband and dog and spends his free time writing LGBTQ Young Adult, New Adult, and Paranormal Romance…when he’s not busy being enthusiastic about laziness and waffles.
