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Carter Morgan III, looks like the kind of person who would rob Carter Morgan III at gunpoint.
I’ve never quite figured out how to negotiate social situations appropriately, always unsure of myself and what people were thinking about me.
“Carter Morgan, nice to meet you. I’m Jefferson.” He shakes my hand and lets go quickly. I can’t bring myself to return the smile. I wish he wasn’t here.
admitting my own problems with money; essentially, that I have none.
Of course, for my dad to be proud of me he’d actually have to watch one of my games.
“Wow!” he exclaims, staring intently down at the picture before looking back up at me with a sheepish expression. “I have no idea who those people are.”
A therapist would probably have a few things to say about me creating imaginary friendships, I suppose, but it’s nobody else’s business what happens in my own head.
“I was just fucking around.” “Well, how about now you fuck off?” Carter suggests pleasantly. He hasn’t once raised his voice or unfolded from his lazy sprawl.
she’s leaned over to me and asked, “That was good, wasn’t it?”. Jefferson turns his head away and laughs every time this happens—the hockey blind leading the blind.
“I want you to know that this has been the best year of my life, and most of that is because of you. You remind me that life doesn’t have to be so serious all the time; you are always teaching me new things, and you make me laugh more than I’ve ever laughed before. I wish I’d posted an ad for a roommate years ago, because we might have met sooner.” Stopping, I clear my throat. I can’t look up at him, though, so I keep my eyes firmly on the paper. “Whenever I used to picture my future, it never included anybody else with me. Now, you’re the only part of my future that I’m certain of. I…”
