It's Kind of a Funny Story

“It’s amazing, Sarah.”

“Thanks. What are you doing now?”

“I’m going to sleep early.”

“Feel better.”

I leave her room. Mom already has the warm milk for me and my place all set up in her bed.

“You feeling better?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really, Craig?”

“Yes, jeez, sure.”

“Lean back on the pillows.” I get in her bed—the mattress is firm and real. I scrunch my feet under the covers and savor that feeling—fresh linen over your feet, bunching up in little mountain ranges. That’s a feeling everyone can enjoy. Mom hands me the milk.

“It’s only nine o’clock, Craig; you’re not going to be able to go to sleep.”

“I’ll read.”

“Good. Tomorrow we’ll schedule something with Dr. Barney to help you. Maybe you need new medicine.”

“Maybe.”

I sit and drink the warm milk and think nothing. It’s a talent I’ve developed—one thing I’ve learned recently. How to think nothing. Here’s the trick: don’t have any interest in the world around you, don’t have any hope for the future, and be warm.

Damn, though. There’s someone else I should call. I pick the cell out of my pocket and flip it open to the name that’s all caps. I hit SEND.

“Nia?” I ask when she picks up.

“Hi, yeah, what’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?”

I sigh.

“Ohhhh. Are you okay, man?”

“No.”

“Where are you?”

“At home. I’m in my mom’s bed, actually.”

“Whoa, we have bigger problems than we thought, Craig.”

“No! I’m just here because it helps me sleep. Don’t you remember when you were a little kid, sleeping in your parents bed was like, such a treat?”

“Well, my dad died when I was three.”

Shoot. That’s right. Some of us have actual things to complain about.

“Right, sorry, um, I—”

“It’s okay. I slept with my mom sometimes.”

“But you probably don’t anymore.”

“No, I do. Same situations as you, I bet.”

“Huh. What are you up to now?”

“Home on the computer.”

“Where’s Aaron?”

“Home on his computer. What do you want, Craig?”

I take a breath. “Nia, you remember the party that we had when we all figured out we got into Executive Pre-Professional?”

“Yeahhhh . . .”

“When you came to that party, did you know you were going to hook up with Aaron?”

“Craig, we’re not talking about this.”

“Please, c’mon, I have to know if I had a shot.”

“We’re not.”

“Please. Pretend I’m dying.”

“God. You are so melodramatic.”

“Heh. Yeah.”

“I wore my green dress to that party, I remember that.”

“I remember too!”

“And Aaron was very nice to me.”

“He sat next to you in Scrabble.”

“And I already knew he liked me. But I had been putting off getting involved with anyone until I knew about high school, because I didn’t want it to distract me. And you and Aaron, you were like, in the running. You both talked to me. But you had that mole on your chin.”

“What?”

“Remember, the big hairy one? It was all pockmarked and gross.”

“I didn’t have any mole!”

“Craig, I’m joking.”

“Oh, right, duh.” We both laugh. Hers is full, mine empty.

“You promise not to take this the wrong way, Craig?”

“Sure,” I lie.

“If you had made a move, I would probably have, you know, gone along. But you didn’t.”

Death.

“See, it works out, though. Now we’re friends, and we can talk about stuff like this.”

“Sure, we can talk.”

Death. “Believe me, I get sick of talking with Aaron.”

“Why?”

“He’s always talking about himself and his problems. Like you. You’re both self-centered. Only, you have a low opinion of yourself, so it’s tolerable. He has a really high opinion of himself. It’s a pain.”

“Thanks, Nia, you’re very sweet.”

“You know I try.”

“What if I tried now?” I ask. Nothing to lose.

“To what?”

“You know. What if I just came over and said screw it and stayed outside until you came out and grabbed you and kissed you?”

“Ha! You’d never do it.”

“What if I did?”

“I’d smap you.”

“You’d smap me.”

“Yeah. Remember that? That was so funny.”

I switch phones from ear to ear.

“Well, I just wanted to clear that up.” I smile. And that’s true. I don’t want to leave loose ends. I want to know where I stand. I don’t stand anywhere with Nia, really, not more than friends. I missed an opportunity with her, but that’s okay, I’ve missed many. I have a lot of regrets.

“I’m worried about you, Craig,” she says.

“What?”

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I won’t,” I tell her, and that’s not a lie. What I’m doing makes a lot of sense.

“Call me if you think you’re going to do anything stupid.”

“Bye, Nia,” I say. And I mouth into the phone, I love you, in case some of her cells pick up on the vibrations and it serves me well in the next life. If there is one. If there is a next life, I hope it’s in the past; I don’t think the future will be any more handleable.

“Bye, Craig.”

I click END. I think it’s a little harsh how the END button is red.

fifteen