J A C O B
My parents had dragged me to a dinner with friends at a fancy restaurant in town that only took reservations for next year but had made an exception for us on the account of my parents and their friends' big names and even bigger wallets. Of course, these friends weren't friends at all, but instead business partners of my father and campaign donors of my mother.
Usually, Derek was the one who came to these business dinners, but Derek was back in Africa, and apparently, I was finally old enough to sit at the grown-ups table. This had been all I ever wanted for a long time in my life, but right now, sitting with them, all I really wanted was to stab myself with a fork. I just didn't know which one.
We hadn't even ordered yet and they were already talking about the economy. It hadn't taken me long to realize I had nothing to contribute to the conversation, and so I had begun reading the menu over and over again, even though it was in French, and I knew almost nothing of French. I had been to the Alps enough times to know how to read a menu, but usually someone else ordered for me, and so I didn't. This time wouldn't be any different. I just needed something to hide myself behind.
By the time the restaurant's most expensive bottle of wine came to the table, they had moved on to politics. The menus were taken away. I was exposed. Every time they finished one of their pretentious run-on sentences, they would send me an excruciatingly probing glance, so as to check if there was any semblance of understanding on my face, and if yes, whether or not I agreed with whatever it was they were saying. I had no idea what it was because I couldn't for the life of me pay attention to any of it.
All I could make out of their long-convoluted opinions were words like, personally, in my opinion, from my perspective, as it seems in my view, as far as I can tell, I think, so on and so forth.
To make up for this attention deficit and lack of basic comprehension skills and critical thinking, I would instead look at my parents for social cues as to whether I should agree or disagree with whatever was being said. It didn't take me long to notice that if they agreed, they would lean in and take a sip of their wine, and if not, they would lean back and only swirl it inside their glasses.
By the time we started eating, my parents' friends had realized I was an impostor, and given up on even looking my way. This had been a relief for me and a disappointment for my parents, who would definitely never forget about it for as long as they lived, just as they hadn't forgotten about any other failure of mine.
By dessert, it was all they could talk about.
My father said, "Jacob's not like our Derek."
This was my father's favorite take on me. Usually he phrased it as suggestion instead, the usual, Jacob should be more like Derek, which implied that I was not yet a lost cause, that I could still be more like Derek. This time, however, he phrased it as a fact, a capital-T Truth. I was not like Derek. More so, I was Jacob, and he was their Derek, as if my father no longer claimed me, only my brother.
I moved the food around my plate but made no effort to eat it. My mother reached for her glass of wine for another approving sip only to realize it was empty and let out a silly laugh about it.
She said, "Derek's the brain. Jacob's the muscle. If he doesn't get a sport scholarship, he'll probably go to military school. Right, honey?"
This was the first time I was hearing about military school. I swallowed hard even though I hadn't put anything in my mouth for a while, not even the wine they'd deemed me old enough to try. My mother was smiling at me, waiting for me to agree with her.
Instead, I said, "I'll get a scholarship."
"Well, you haven't been playing very well, have you?" she went on, turning to the others right after to say, "Jacob had a ski accident a few weeks back. It's really hurt his chances with college scouts."
This was lie I had told her, in fact, a lie on top of a lie. I hadn't gotten hurt in a ski accident. It happened during the ski trip, yes, but definitely not on the slopes. Instead, I had gotten a sprained shoulder and a bunch of bruised ribs jumping out of a moving taxi, drunk out of my mind, after realizing I didn't have my wallet with me.
The other lie was that my chances with college scouts hadn't been hurt because of the supposed ski accident but because I had been playing like shit in every single game this year. I had no idea why. I had been playing football for years, in fact, playing better than everyone else around me, but lately, it felt like all I had really done was pretend I knew how to play. Somehow, I had made everyone, including myself, believe I was this wonder kid, when really the only wonder was how I had kept the lie up for so long.
Every time I got on the field, I was overwhelmed by this possibility of being a fraud, and worst of all, of being found out. It was all I could think about, and every mistake I then made on the field was a confirmation of this conspiracy theory I had on myself. Coach said I had to get out of my own head, but I had no idea how, except perhaps hit it against a wall over and over again until I found a clear exit.
By the time the bill was paid, my parents had already changed the conversation entirely to Derek and all the important work he was doing abroad. I didn't mind it so much as long as I didn't have to be included in their worship of him, except of course, both my parents insisted on looking at me to have me confirm Derek was all this and all that, as if they needed a third witness of his doings, each of them greater than the last.
By the end of the night, I had decided I would rather sleep on the street than get in the car with my parents and have them go over every single thing I had done wrong during dinner, so I told them I was going over to Edward's. This was another lie since Edward was still not talking to me for essentially getting directions wrong. I obviously hadn't meant to almost kill Isaac. The trainline was supposed to be abandoned. But Edward wouldn't hear any of this, and obviously my parents didn't need to.
They weren't happy that I wasn't going home with them, mostly because they thought I would really benefit from some input on my behavior tonight, as I knew they would, but eventually they got in the car and drove away without me.
I sat on the sidewalk and called Kylie. She answered only after a while.
"Hello?"
"Hi."
"Jacob?"
"Yes, it's me."
"And you're calling because?"
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Aligning my chakras," she said. "It's the Sectionals tomorrow."
"Right." I had forgotten the girls wouldn't be cheering us on in favor of their Cheer Competition out of town. "So you're home?"
"I am," she said.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Can I come over?"
"What part of aligning my chakras didn't you understand?"
I smiled, a car honked at me, and I flipped him off.
To Kylie, I said, "I can help you."
She seemed amused at the idea, and asked, "How?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
"This might come as a surprise to you, but I don't need your help."
I pretended to laugh, "How long are you gonna keep this up for?"
"This what?"
"This cat-and-mouse game?"
"That's a very chauvinist way to put it, Jacob," she said. "Let me guess, you're the cat and I'm the mouse. You don't think that sounds predatory?"
"I don't know. My parents forgot to teach me how to be a good person."
"Is this the part where I make you feel all better about it?" She was smiling. I could feel it. "Is that why you called? You want me to make you feel better?"
I had called her because I wanted to stop our will-they-won't-they shenanigan, to get myself a much-needed win after months of loss after loss after loss, but it was obvious she wasn't going to send me her address any time soon, and probably I would have to sit on this hard cold sidewalk until enough time had passed that I could go home without my parents thinking I had been lying to get out of the getting in the car with them. So, yes, whining about it all did sound good to me now that she mentioned it.
"I do, yes," I admitted. Really, I meant, yes, fucking yes, please make feel better!
She laughed, "What made you think I would?"
"You make everyone feel better."
"Do I?" She sounded surprised.
"You do," I said. "You act like you're one of those mean girls from the movies, but you're not, are you? Not really."
"I don't act like anything."
"Of course, you do. We all do."
"What do you act like?"
"Honestly?"
I felt another smile as she said, "Why not?"
"I act like I'm the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid, and important person in existence, when really I'm not worth shit. I'm a fucking fraud."
For a moment, there was a silence.
Then she said, "Have you been drinking?"
I laughed, "Not at all."
"Did something happen?"
I thought about it, and said, "I just realized that anyone who actually knows me thinks I'm a piece of shit."
"So this is about Edward?"
"Not just Edward," I said, even though Edward definitely hated me. "My parents said if I didn't get a sports scholarship, I would have to go to military school, which is basically like saying, if you don't grow up to be a big-deal football player, we don't care if you live or die, because obviously you're not gonna grow up to be a big-deal at anything else, because you don't know how to do anything else other than football, which is a lie, because I actually don't think I even know how to play football anymore. I'm actually convinced that I've just been pretending all these years â"
"Where are you right now?" she stopped me.
"I'm in bed," I lied.
"Did you take something?"
"No, why?"
"Cause you sound..." She paused to think of the right word, and then said, "Well, you don't sound like yourself."
"Well, I'm not myself, am I?" I was a hoax.
"What makes you think you can't play football anymore?"
"I keep making mistakes â"
"You're allowed to make mistakes."
"Not if I want a scholarship."
"Why do you even need one? Your parents are rich. They can definitely afford to send you to college without you having to lose your mind over a scholarship."
"You think I'm losing my mind?"
"A little, yes," she said, and when I didn't say anything in response to it, mostly because I knew it was true, she added, "But maybe that's a good thing, like with wisdom teeth. You know, sometimes you have to lose them cause the way they're growing is just gonna cause you pain, and they'll push all your other teeth out of your mouth."
I smiled, my eyes on the concrete road in front of me, "What are my other teeth a metaphor for?"
"I don't know," she said. Except she did, "The things that actually matter?"
"Which are?"
"If you weren't so concerned about being the absolute center of the universe, you would probably know, wouldn't you?"
"Probably," I said, and then, "So I'll lose my mind a little?"
"Yeah, just pull those teeth out. You don't need them."
"And you think without them I'll play like I used to?"
"Do you actually like football or is that just something your parents forced on you?"
"No, I actually like it."
"Then yes, of course," she said.
Another car honked at me. Kylie must have heard it because she said the beginning of what would most likely be, I thought you were in bed, you lying piece of shit.
Before she could, I said, "I was wrong about you. You're nothing like me."
"No, you were right. We're the same," she said. "I just lie to myself better."
"What do you lie about?"
"Honestly?" she asked, just as I had.
"Please."
"I think at some point in my life I realized I wasn't going to last long if I kept comparing myself to everyone around me, if I kept trying to be the absolute center of the universe, as you put it. I just don't think I'm cut out for it. I can't have life be a competition because I'm sure I'll lose it if it is, and I can't lose," she said. "So I decided something, sort of like deciding new rules to a game you're losing so you have a chance to win. I decided against this idea the world keeps selling to us, that our value as people is a limited and exchangeable currency, that if one person has it then it means the other doesn't. I just don't buy it anymore. I don't want it."
I thought about it for a while, my knees against my chest, my head laid on them. Finally, I said, "I wish I could think like you, but I've totally bought the idea of competing for my place in the world, and I'm pretty sure it's too late to return it now."
She asked, "You didn't keep the receipt?"
I smiled, "I didn't, no, but I've had it for too long anyway. I'll just have to pass it down to my kids if I have them."
"That's how most people get theirs."
"Like a very fucked up pyramid scheme."
She laughed, "That's exactly what it is! The only people profiting off of this are the ones at the top!"
Silence. Then my voice, "So that's why I can't seem to make you jealous."
"Have you been trying to?"
"I have, but it doesn't work, does it?"
"No," she said.
"Yeah, well, I won't do it anymore."
"You shouldn't. It can't be very nice to the girls you do it with, can it?"
"Mentally? No. Physically? Absolutely, yes."
"But no one really cares about how you make them feel physically," she said. "Most hook ups happen inside our heads."
"Oh yeah, it's all about attention and jealousy and insecurityâ"
"So you agree? You're using what's essentially the human condition against these girls? Cause it's our nature to want attention, and validation, and respect. We're constantly made to feel bad about this, specially us girls, but honestly, I'm starting to think there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. We don't want to be alone. We created Gods because we didn't want to be alone! It's in our genetic material!"
I remembered what I said to her once, and said it again, "You want my approval of you, and I want your approval of me."
"And there's nothing wrong with that," she said. "There can't be because otherwise I really wouldn't know what to do with my life. How would people go on without someone else there to understand them? Nothing would make sense."
I didn't say anything for a while. The wind picked up. I couldn't feel my hands anymore, or my face, only the lump in my throat.
In the end, I said, "You're really something."
And she laughed, "We're all something. We're all the realest, most vivid, and important person in existence. All of us at the same time. That's what I'm trying to say."
I smiled, "I like it."
I felt her smile too, "Well, I have to go. I have an early morning tomorrow."
"Right," I remembered. "Good luck."
"Thanks," she said, "You too."
I had forgotten about the game tomorrow too. I had forgotten about everything. When she hung up, I got up and stretched my arm out for a taxi coming up the road. I started crying as soon as I got in the backseat. The driver didn't realize it, or if he did, he pretended not to. When I finally got in bed later that night, her words still ringing in my head, I almost believed I could start again.