14. Dawg...

The title says it all this time.

I was trying my hardest not to think about what you would say after finding out my decision. I was trying not to think about how you’d probably say you were proud of me. My Uncle Keegan was certainly proud, if not just in disbelief that I actually took him up on his offer. He had made a point to remind me how great life is California is gonna be, about thirty times before we hung up.

I laid in bed that night, jumping between fantasies of what my life would be like there, based mostly on the movies I’d seen since they were all I had to go off of. Those eventually turned to fantasies of what I was gonna say to break it to Uncle T. He was still rooting for me to overcome my college stress and head out to a university, how was I gonna explain that I was instead gonna hop across the country aimlessly soul-searching with his brother? I tried not to think about how you’d tell me to be open with my feelings and wants, and instead let myself drift to bed. Unfortunately, waking up the next morning didn’t give me any more clarity.

Moving On in 10 Steps, by Richie Harris

1. Avoid any piece in music, movies, or television or, that invoke the ideas of love or romance. Basically, become a caveman and cut yourself from all forms of media.

2. Repress sentimental memories as if they were your childhood abuse.

3. Whenever someone asks, change the subject immediately. Keep doing this until they forget said person ever existed.

4. Develop a strange attraction to girls with glasses, and discover that sensory impairment is one of the sexiest things in the world.

5. Cry. For long durations and pretend to be asleep with your head under the covers when your Uncle walks into the room.

6. If step three doesn’t work immediately, become really efficient at constructing sentences that don’t require the use of pronouns and keep attempting to change the subject until the aggressor gives up.

7. Never drink coffee. Do you even like coffee? Who’s idea was it to drink hot bean water in the first place?

8. Avoid mutual friends. Do you even like your friends?

9. Spend more and more time alone.

10. Do a better job of trying not to cry.

It was some day a week after making that phone call, it was Tuesday or Friday or something, I dunno they all kinda blended together. School had gone by normally, and by that I mean drearily and monotonously, then Theo had invited me over to his place for what he called urgent business.

“Are you kidding me?” I shot as Theo paced around his driveway.

“I’m tired of waiting in the dark,” he replied, not slowing down a step. “I gotta make some type of contact with her.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Ever hear of emotional support? It’s this thing friends do for each other.”

I sighed, trying to gather my thoughts and level with him.

“Look, man. I know how you feel, trust me, but if V’s still dodging all your calls and doing all she can to avoid seeing you, whatever’s bothering her must be big. And before you know what it is, you can’t just show up at her crib.”

“How you gonna say that,” Theo scoffed. “You gave me the idea in the first place.”

Well, he had me there.

“Spectacular,” I thought aloud. “I give the best advice I can day in day out and get ignored every time, yet the one thing I say that I don’t want you to take to heart is the one you run with.”

He stopped pacing. “Richie,” he spoke more sincerely. “I gotta know what’s going on. I deserve some type of explanation don’t I?”

A chill ran through my body.

“Yeah,” I finally conceded. “You do. I’m just worried maybe you won’t be able to handle the one you get.”

He raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing man,” I quickly veered away. “But yo, if you’re really about to do this and nothing I say can convince you not to, I guess I might as well be there to supervise in case something crazy goes down.”

He instantly switched back to his usual happy-go-lucky self.

“My man,” he said, patting me on the arm as he walked over and made his way to the car. “Let’s ride.”

He climbed into the driver’s seat, and I swallowed my pride and followed suit. We were backing out of the driveway and I started to zone out. Before I knew it, I was watching the neighborhood pass by, lost in my thoughts.

I tried not to think about the way you squinted and fidgeted your glasses around whenever you walked outside into the daylight. I tried not to think about the way you covered your mouth whenever you laughed.  I tried not to think about your then black hair, and how it hung in a braid. I tried not to think about your freckles or the dimples in your cheeks whenever I made you smile. I tried not to think about the way you hummed sixties pop songs to yourself when you were focusing on something. I tried not to think about how you bit your lip when you got nervous. I tried not to think about how you closed your eyes whenever you sang, as if trying to pretend no one was there to hear you.

I tried not to think about your passive, monotone voice, or your uninterested eyes or your confusing half-smiles. I tried not to think about all the smart things you said that always made me feel dumber. I tried not to think about your nonchalant attitude or the advice that always seem to make my life clearer.

We pulled up twenty minutes later, to Viola Walters’ street. She lived in a well-to-do neighborhood not unlike Jenny Allen’s. Theo parked alongside the curb in front of her house. He ran a hand through his dreads and took a deep breath.

I tried to muster some emotional support, but all that came out was, “I’mma just sit here and wait I guess.”

“Cool,” he answered, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll try not to be long.”

He got out and shut the door behind him. I watched through the window as he walked up the driveway to her doorstep. As he rang the doorbell, I and sat there wondering how much I should engage. Would I be playing myself if I rolled the window down to hear them?

Before I could straighten out these thoughts, she answered. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and was dressed in house clothes, but had found a new exotic hairstyle. She was silent upon seeing him, her whole face froze. Then, the lack of expression turned to one of anger, and she started saying a bunch of things I couldn’t hear, with what looked like a lot of passion. Her lips were moving too fast to read, but I at some point made out ‘What are you even doing here?’

I guess Theo responded; I could only see him from behind but he started moving his arms as if talking and she stopped to listen. He must’ve said something she didn’t like though, because a second later she was back to talking, this time yelling so loud I could faintly hear her voice through the glass. She clapped her hands as she talked, then made a few gestures with her fingers as if she was listing and counting something. Theo placed his hands on his head stressfully and turned around like he was gonna walk back to the car. I thought that was it, but he turned back more calmly, holding his arms up gently as if surrendering.

She calmed herself, took a deep breath and looked at him intently, then spoke much quieter, but in a way I could still tell was angry. I wrestled again with my thoughts. Let me just slide it down real quick, they won’t even notice.

I leaned over the center console to Theo’s car door and gently held down the window button (for whatever reason, as if it made a difference how lightly I pressed it) and as the window opened up I could hear their voices floating in.

V was loud and stern. “I’m tired of how immature you are. You never think s**t through, Theo, it’s like you have no regard for the results of your actions. You just do s**t.”

He was now defensive and sounded tired of the argument. “Oh my god, you find every possible way to blame it on me. You never do anything wrong, it’s always just my fault for bein’ a dickhead, right? Meanwhile I’m trynna figure out what I did that was so bad you just ghosted me with no explanation and it gets to the point I gotta come to your house uninvited just to communicate with you? For real? Can you please just tell me what your problem is?”

She got real silent again, and looked at Theo with the sharpest, most fed up eyes I had ever seen, while crossing her arms in front of her chest and taking a small step closer to him. Then she said it, loudly, sternly and unmistakably.

“I’m pregnant, Theo.”

Theo was silent. It seemed as if the whole street got silent with him, as if the whole world at once just stopped moving.

She went on, “It’s yours.”