The Failing Hours

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, No, I want you to fucking lie, but I don’t.

I nod. “Yeah. Be honest.”

“I don’t know, Zeke.” He sets the bagel down and walks to the fridge. Takes out two beers, pops the tops, then places one in my grip; it goes great with my oatmeal. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

We stand in silence, him chewing on the bagel and swallowing his beer, me staring out the kitchen window, Violet’s parting words rolling around my mind: I’m done listening to you condescend to your roommates and to Jameson. She is amazing! Did you know that? And you won’t even try to befriend her. You treat her like shit! Why Zeke? Why? What has she ever done to you but date your friend?

“Since we’re being honest, it’s been hard being your friend since James and I started dating. We’ve—I’ve decided it might be best if…” Oz’s voice trails off and he avoids finishing his sentence by taking a healthy swig of beer.

“Might be best if what. What? Just say it man.”

A long, labored sigh. “It’s gotten to the point where James doesn’t feel comfortable coming over, all right? It’s hostile territory in here man; I’m used to it, but she’s not, and I don’t like putting her in this position because I really fucking like her, so…” He shrugs and takes a deep, steadying breath. “So, I’ve been thinking I might move out at semester.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry man, but I can’t do this anymore. There’s way too much tension around here to be healthy.”

“So you’re just going to move in with some girl you just met?”

“I didn’t say that either, did I?” He sets the knife he’d been using to butter his bagel in the sink, wipes his hands on a dish rag, then turns back to face me, crossing his legs at the ankles and watching me. Gauging my reaction. “No. James and I aren’t moving in together, but I have been thinking about moving.”

“Then I don’t get it.”

He laughs, but it’s an odd laugh. Kind of sad. “I didn’t think you would.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Cut the bullshit man. Please. Quit talking in riddles.”

“You want me to spell it out for you? Fine. You’re a shitty roommate dude, and I’m thinking about moving out. There. Happy? Now you can say and do what you want, be the huge fucking boner killer that you are, and it won’t affect anyone else, least of all me and my girlfriend, who is the shit.”

My jaw clenches when he shrugs again, almost carelessly.

“I don’t know what Elliot’s gonna do—probably stay because he can’t really afford to move—but he’s tired of the mood swings too, dude. We never know what we’re getting with you.”

My parents.

Violet.

Oz.

Jameson.

“The common denominator here is you. Get your shit together. We graduate next fall—what the fuck are you gonna do then? Are you going to act like a dick at your job?”

“How the hell am I supposed to change?”

His mouth is set in a grim line. “I don’t know man. I’ve never really given anyone advice.”

“Bullshit.” I chuckle. “All you do is give unsolicited advice.”

“Whoa, back the truck up.” He points at my face. “What the hell was that?”

I play dumb. “What the hell was what?”

“Did you just laugh? That’s the first time I’ve ever seen your fucking teeth.”

“Whatever.”

“Also, you’re not half bad-looking when you smile. You’re quite reasonably attractive.”

I laugh again.

It feels good.

“See! That right there almost gave me a chubby down under,” my roommate jokes. “Do not tell Jameson.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Since his girlfriend and I barely speak, it won’t be a problem. “And you know smartass, I laugh. Just not—”

“Pfft, yeah right. Name the last time you laughed out loud at something.”

“Last week when I was with—”

I stop. Frown.

“When you were with Violet?” he supplies.

“Yeah.”

Oz’s big hand clamps me on the shoulder and he squeezes. “You’ve got to do something man. She’s one of the good ones—maybe too good considering how fucked you are in the head. You probably deserve someone more like that.”

“Gee, thanks,” I deadpan.

He ignores my sarcasm. “No, I’m being real here. You have some serious parent issues.” Chuckle. “You also need to chill the fuck out, that’s my advice—and smile more, chicks love that shit.”

He’s serious.

“Anything else?”

Oz rubs his chin, stroking the stubble along his jawline. “I think you’re going to have to fight dirty to win this one. Violet doesn’t seem like the type who’s going to let this go; this blow was emotional. It’s going to cut her deep and cost you. I’m glad she told you to fuck off.”

“Violet did not tell me to fuck off.”

“Basically she did…” he mumbles into his beer bottle.

“Um, no, she said I wasn’t a nice person and she wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“So in other words, fuck off.” His middle finger salutes the air.