“Jesus,” Max mused, chuckling to himself. “That was intense, Connor.”
“Shut up, Max,” I said.
They all turned to stare at me. It felt like an eternity before I blinked and snapped back to life, playing it off like I was joking and slapped Max on the back. “Just kidding, man.”
But I could feel Toby’s cold gaze creeping onto me, a slow smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, you were just kidding, Jack. Always just kidding. Such a fucking kidder, my man, Jack!”
“The fuck is wrong with you, Toby?” Max asked, laughing nervously.
Connor mumbled something under his breath.
“What’d you just say?” Toby snapped.
Connor slid his shades up his nose. “Nothing that concerns you,” he said with a sarcastic grin, and then nodded at me. “You coming, Jack?”
I hesitated, looking between Max and Toby and Connor. Toby was staring straight at Connor now, getting that scary look again, and Max just looked confused.
“Yeah, I’m coming. See you guys later.”
“Later, dude!” Max called.
As I was walking away I thought I could just faintly hear Toby murmur, “Fucking faggot.”
30.
Dr. Phil was on, and Mom was watching intently. She had her feet up on the coffee table, still wearing her ratty bathrobe even though it was nearly noon. But something was weird; I smelled the familiar scent of pot.
“Goddamn, where do they find these people?” she said. She flicked some ashes onto the rug. “Morons of the highest order, babe. Of course, this quack knows exactly what to say to them, anyone with half a brain could fix their issues.” She took a long drag.
“Mom?” I asked cautiously, walking over to her. I put my hands on her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Are you smoking weed, Mom?”
She took a long hit on what I could now see was a joint. “Hope you don’t mind. Found it in your room while I was cleaning a bit. Don’t tell your father.” She winked and inhaled again, the thick smoke curling into the air.
I pulled my hands off her shoulders like they’d shocked me. “Mom. Please don’t go through my stuff.”
The circles under her eyes were deep and dark, as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. “Now Jack, it’s my duty as a mother to make sure you’re not getting into any nasty business, like drugs or weapons or sex.” She laughed dryly and then started to cough. “God forbid,” she went on in between hacking chest coughs. “I don’t want my beautiful son to end up anything but boring.”
“Didn’t you have a job interview this morning?” My eyes were fixated by the people on the screen with their sad, crumpled faces as a bald fat man drawled his pop psychology at them in his bumble-fuck accent.
“I needed a mental health day,” she said, flicking the joint again. It irked me.
The audience of dumpy middle-aged people cooed and cheered for their Texan messiah. I realized I was grinding my teeth.
I walked over and turned the TV off, grabbing the joint from her and putting it out in the clay shark ashtray I’d made for her. Gunther lifted his head up from his spot by the window, making an anxious groaning noise.
“Mom. It’s almost afternoon and you’re still sitting around in your robe watching trash TV and smoking my weed, for fuck’s sake. The house is a mess, the dog needs a walk, the bills are still sitting on the fucking foyer, not getting paid. What the hell are you doing?”
Her smirk had twisted into a cold scowl. “Who do you think you are, your father?”
“Someone around here has to be an adult,” I said. “Come on, Gunther.”
But before I could reach my dog, she stood and blocked my path. She was so small, about a foot shorter than me, but she stared up at me and lowered her tone. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, I’m your mother!” It was then I saw that her face was about to fall from the weight of her tears and pain, and in a second she had collapsed into my arms and was pulling me close, the smell of cheap weed and bad perfume overwhelming.
“Oh, Jack,” she murmured. I let her hot tears soak my t-shirt as I lightly patted her back in an attempt at comfort, until I had to pull away. I stomped out of the house with Gunther in tow, clipping on his leash without giving her a second look while she sniffled and sobbed pathetically into her hands.
Walking outside into the fresh air, I took a deep breath. Old Gunther walked patiently by my side, tail wagging every now and then, never pulling ahead or dragging behind me even if he spotted a squirrel or another dog. Despite his arthritis, he kept up with me down the sidewalk of our bleak street, with its potholes and small, unkempt houses.
Me and Gunther, my guy, who I’d raised myself, the only reliable member of my family.
31.
“Will it hurt?” I asked.
The burly man crouched down to my level and gently touched my bottom lip with his latex finger. “Only a pinch. Just take a deep breath and relax when I clamp you.”
“It’s gonna look sick,” Connor whispered in my ear. He kissed my cheek. We stared at our reflection in the mirror of the piercing parlor, his head resting on my shoulder, eyes wide with excitement next to my uneasy stare.
“I’m such a pussy,” I touched the spot on my lip about to be severed, as if wishing it luck in its final intact moments.
“Nah, you’re just a little dramatic,” Connor said. “Now this one, see?” He pushed aside a clump of hair to reveal a rook piercing in his ear. “This one hurt like a bitch. Got infected and everything.”
“Oh thanks, that really makes me feel better.”
“You sure you want to go through with this?” the piercing guy
