Coffee, Grit, and my Dad's Best Shoes 3.2

The space between then and Friday was occupied by Koby, forcing food down, and a visit to the hospital on Wednesday, which officially marked the only day I'd been free to go that week. It was also my least favourite visit of the whole month. Butterflies hit hard, and with them came a dry throat and a nervous laugh and the inability to look Braz in the eyes.

In other words, I was officially struggling with the re-crush. I talked to Aunty Leanne about it that night, and all it had earned me was a back-clap and a, "The hand-holding's going to have to tie you over, boo." It was single-handedly the least helpful, least insightful advice she'd ever given me.

It was also just the unfortunate truth of the matter.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, kicking a shirt from the middle of my bedroom floor to under my dresser, tucked into the closet because the room was too small for it otherwise. Leanne was leaning one shoulder against my door-frame, arms crossed.

"I think you need to get out again, Parker," she said, just as I was making ready to fall into my bed, planning not to emerge for a good two days.

At least.

I rolled more than fell into said bed.

"Uh," was what came out of my mouth, followed shortly by, "Why? And where?" I was pretty sure that my entire circle had forgotten about me by then, and honestly, I wasn't sure that I wanted to go back. I hadn't talked to any of them in... jeez. Ages.

"Because." She sauntered over, because the woman couldn't just walk, and set herself down neatly on the edge of my bed. I shuffled over to make room for her. "You haven't gone to a single party in, what, four months? You don't go places-"

"Bull. I go places," I cut her off.

She frowned at me, lips pursing in a way I'd managed to pick up, myself. "You don't go places with people, anymore. I remember when you wouldn't even step foot outside the house unless you knew you had someone to go with you."

I frowned back up at her, mimicking the lip-purse, and gave her side a reassuring pat. "Nothing wrong with being an introvert, Aunty Leanne." I knew how bullshitty that sounded as soon as I'd said it. There wasn't anything wrong with being an introvert, but I-

"You're not an introvert, Parker. You've never been an introvert." Bingo. "Or I wouldn't be worried about you."

I sighed, pulling my legs up so that I could roll into a sitting position without kicking the poor woman. My feet landed on a pair of jeans, and Leanne frowned all over again and followed the rustling sound with her eyes. The and don't even get me started on your sudden lack of organizational skills went on unsaid, but I knew she was thinking it. That was a more recent development. As in, I'd stopped caring a week ago. Funny how fast things got messy when you didn't just put things where they belonged right off the bat.

"Honestly, I think I just need new faces." I licked my lips, eyes wandering to the ceiling. "The only people left from my old circle are kind of..." One shoulder shrugged, and my hand started rubbing the comforter in slow, methodical pushes. Microfiber was a soothing texture. "I dunno. Drifting, I guess." College did that. People making lives for themselves did that. "Secondary education and all."

I looked over at her, and I had never seen a more concerned expression cross that woman's face before. It was like she'd realized something, and that that something was preying on the confidence she had as a guardian. Her hand was cradling her jaw, elbow propped on her knee, which was crossed over her other knee, mouth pressed into the firmest line I'd ever seen in pressed into. And she was just staring at me.

"Do you want to go to college, Parker?" she asked finally, hand dropping to her lap. "Because if you do, you need to apply for next year. It's not like I don't have the money."

I blinked at her. "What? No, I don't- honestly, I really don't know what I'd even go for, you know? Seems like a waste of time unless I'm gonna be a lawyer or something, and I think that'd just drive me batty."

And then I thought about it. Actually thought about it for the first time since graduating last year. Maybe that was my rut. Working at a coffee shop hadn't been cutting it for me, and then I'd had the single worst bulimia relapse in the history of bulimia relapses, and I'd had to quit that. Useless had turned into downright worthless, and the fact that I'd previously started isolating myself probably hadn't helped matters. I wasn't doing anything. And it didn't matter how often I used Koby as an excuse, I needed to... not.

"So... what do you want to do, then?" Leanne pressed. "Because you are definitely way too brilliant to stay cooped up here for the rest of your life."

I looked down again, frowning at my lap. "I actually don't know. Haven't let myself think about it that much."

Leanne laughed under her breath, hand falling onto my shoulder. "I remember when you were little. Like... ten, eleven. All you wanted with your life was to be a hair dresser. Kept saying that New York was your 'ultimate goal.'" She raised an eyebrow at me. "Your dad was somewhat concerned."

I shook my head, smile grabbing at the corners of my mouth. "Wow, I was a typical gay little boy." Actually, who was I kidding? I was still a typical gay little boy. Mostly because that really appealed to me, once I let myself remember it.

"You could start by applying as a receptionist. There's that one big salon in town." Her hand squeezed. "I support your flamboyant homosexuality all the way. And I definitely can't imagine a Canadian beauty parlour having a problem with it, either."

I snorted. "They'd probably pay me to wear heels and take on the lisp."

"Parker, honey." She tipped my chin up with two fingers and looked me dead in the eye. "Have you heard what your voice does when you get excited? They won't have to pay you."

I blinked at her. "Are you actually serious right now?"

A nod.

"I do the gay-voice thing?"

Another nod, polished with a grin. "Since you hit puberty, love."

I chuckled, feeling the colour rising in my cheeks. "Oh."