Page 118 of Bad at Love
When I pull up outside of Marina’s, I barely even remember driving. One minute I was at Noah’s, the next I’m parking outside of Havisham’s.
Speaking of, she’s peering through her blinds at me. You’d think after all this time with Marina, nearly every day, she would be used to me.
Does it matter?The thought comes into my head.You won’t be here long.
And then the thought leaves, leaving me rattled.
“Hey guys,” Marina’s clear, beautiful voice comes ringing out and I look to see her on the other side of the gate, poking her head over and grinning. “Come on in. Hey Noah,” she says to him. “Love your hair.”
“Thanks!” he says brightly.
We walk through the gate and instinctively I bend over and kiss Marina on the cheek.
“You okay?” she asks me, hand on my chest, peering at me intently. “You look ill.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her, not meeting her eyes. This is not the time for the discussion. Perhaps there will never be a good time for it. Probably for the best. She doesn’t have to know that I am, deep down, inherently unlovable. I’m sure she’ll figure that out for herself soon enough.
“He’s being a weirdo,” Noah says.
“Well he’s my weirdo,” Marina tells him with a proud smile. “That’s why we work so well together. If I have a bit of advice for you Noah, it’s you need to find your weirdo. Once you do, everything else falls into place.”
“I’m not actually on the market for a weirdo,” Noah says smartly. “But I do want to find my own brand of weird.”
“Find your weirdo, embrace your weird,” Marina says. “It’s all good. Now let’s get you inside and have a little fashion show. How many outfits did you pack?”
Noah rolls his eyes. “Only one. I’m not interested in wearing feather boas. I just want to feel a part of something bigger than me.”
“You have a smart brother, Laz,” Marina says to me but her smile is starting to falter, just a bit. I know it’s because she’s picking up on what I’m putting out there. It takes a lot of strength to return the smile and pretend that everything’s fine.
But I try. I try for her sake, I try for Noah’s. I tell myself that the conversation I just had with my mother didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t anything that I didn’t know deep down. It was just out in the open and I should be glad, happy even, that the elephant in the room was finally dealt with.
It was dealt with by a shotgun blast to the heart.
Noah was right when he said he wasn’t wearing feather boas. He’s wearing a shirt that says “Be Queer, Punch a Nazi” and has tried to fix his purple hair into a Mohawk. Without Knox gelatin though, it’s more like floppy spikes. But hey, it’s cool.
Marina has made rainbow streaks in her hair by dusting different colored eyeshadows in sections and is wearing a shirt with Rosie the Riveter on it and jeans.
“Let’s go show some love,” she says excitedly but there’s something off about her tone. Noah wouldn’t pick up on it, but I do.
I know her so well.
My sweet girl.
Far too good and sweet for the likes of me.
She needs someone who can match her heart, can give back what she gives. Who can love without limits, love without conditions. Someone who loves her the very way she deserves to be loved.
Because Marina, of all people, is deserving of the biggest love possible. She’s deserving of someone who deserves her mind, body, heart and soul.
What I’m realizing today, with horrible clarity, is that someone is probably not me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MARINA
“POISON HEART”
I close my eyes.
