Page 9 of Seeds of Christmas
The cereal suddenly tastes like dust. “You’ve been reading too much poetry again, man.”
“Just saying.” He leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. “It must’ve sucked being in that place. Every time someone said Dominic’s name, the room went so fucking quiet.”
I keep my eyes on the floor. It’s one of the reasons I love Jake: he’s blunt. But sometimes, I wish he was alittlemore subtle.
Dominic was a senior when I was a freshman so most of the guys in my year knew him. Even before he died, he was a man of myth in the frat. He was justthat guy, everybody loved him, everybody knew him. And everybody felt so sorry for his little brother living in his shadow.
I lasted another year in the frat house, but eventually it got too much for me to handle. So, this year I asked Jake if he would live off campus with me.
There’s a dent in the hardwood shaped like someone once dropped a dumbbell there.
“Yeah.” I laugh it off. “The pity stares were killer for my social life. You can’t exactly flirt when everyone’s thinking, ‘poor guy, his brother was a legend.’”
Jake’s voice softens. “He was a legend.”
“I know.” I force a smile. “Trust me, no one’s letting me forget it.”
For a second, the silence between us is heavy. Uncomfortable, brittle. I do what I always do: break it with humor.
“Anyway, I’m aiming for mediocre and still breathing, sooo, I think I’m on track. I have, in fact, just signed up for an extra credit geology assignment over Christmas. 8 days in the mountains collecting data.”
Jake snorts. “Sounds like a blast. And mediocre? Shoot for the stars, bro.”
“I’m actually aiming slightly left of the stars. Maybe I’ll hit a passing satellite and it’ll all be over.”
He shakes his head. “You’re such an idiot.”
“I am a genius, my friend,” I say, grabbing the second controller and flopping down beside him. “Now, let’s play before I spiral into deep emotional reflection, because nobody needs to see that.”
“Fuck no, not today,” Jake says, unpausing the game. “Healthy coping at its finest.”
“Damn right.” I smirk. “Now, prepare to lose. I am killer at this game.”
We play for a while in comfortable silence, the familiar soundtrack of button mashing filling the room. But then Jake pauses the game again.
“So this research trip,” he says, not looking at me. “You actually want to do it? Or are you just running away from Christmas?”
I want to deflect. Make a joke. But it’s Jake, and he already knows the answer.
“Both,” I admit. “Is that allowed?”
“Totally allowed.” He tosses his controller onto the coffee table. “But real talk for a sec—are you even into this geology shit?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“Geology. Rocks. Earth science. All of it.” He turns to face me. “Are you into it? Like, actually into it?”
I open my mouth to say yes automatically. Then close it.
“I don’t know,” I say finally.
“Dude.” Jake leans forward. “You’re a junior. You’re supposed to at leastpretendto know what you’re doing with your life.”
“Says the guy who’s changed his major three times.”
“Exactly. Which is why I’m asking. Because I’ve been there.” He picks at a loose thread on the couch. “So? Do you like it?”
I think about my geology classes. About sitting in lectures, staring at PowerPoint slides about mineral compositions and tectonic plates, feeling my brain slowly leak out of my ears.
