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I give her another smile again, but this time I think of the Dachshund puppy that the owner of the café down the street just bought, so my smile looks more genuine, and then I tell her that I just want to be alone, but I touch her arm as I do because I know it’ll put her at ease. It does.
It’s the same bedroom they dragged me out of ten years ago. They put me back in here like nothing happened at all. Like there aren’t still the indents of my nails on the doorframe from when they began to drag me away.
He’s twenty-six. I just want to remind you that he’s twenty-six.
“You just called your brother a jack-off in the car.” I frown again. “He is a jack-off.”
“That’s a real big smile you’ve got there.” I drop it and turn my head away from him, straight to the ground—fuck! “No, it’s not.” I start walking ahead quickly. “It’s pretty big!” he calls after me. “I’ll call you a jack-off too!” I yell back. He laughs as he catches up to me. “I’m sure you will.”
“Harry Potter was a magician!” Tennyson interrupts. “He was not!” Me. “Guys.” Oliver. “Mate, have you seen the movies?” Sam. “Guys.” Oliver. “Did he, or did he not do magic?”
“Oliver.” She sighs. “I don’t want my husband’s casket to look like a gay pride float.” “Wow!”
and Harry Potter despite J. K. Rowling lately,
There are a lot of kinds of love in the world, and not all of them make sense all of the time. The way love was delivered to Oliver, full of conditions and hoops to jump through and lies to abide by, being loved and being hurt were two sides of the same coin.
Cheers, Dad, you big jack-off.
“Because she prostituted her fourteen-year-old sister for popularity.”
“No, but I mean, like-like—” “Like-like?” He scoffs. “What are you, eight?”
He’s playing Wordscapes on his phone, but he glances over at me.
A man of taste
“Well, it doesn’t look like the house of a whore,” Oliver declares to no one in particular. I glance at him. “What does a whore’s house look like?”
don’t know.” he shrugs. “A second-floor condo on the corner of Ocean and Alta?” Sam pauses. “That’s where you live.”
I climb into bed, have some wine, and watch Arrested Development
“Why should he?” I nod my chin toward Jason. “Your deadweight partner’s always running his dumb mouth and we have to listen.
“Incroyable. Votre français devient très bon.”
