just...act.
"Let me stop talking. He's so excited to see you. Do you mind though?" She holds out a huge bottle of Purell.
"No, of course not." I take off my sweatshirt, lay it on a bench in the foyer, and lather on the antibacterial hand gel. I rub it up my arms and everything.
"Johnny's in the family room," his mother tells me as she parades me through the kitchen.
"Hey, dude. Is that the way you greet your best friend when he comes to visit?"
Johnny's chair turns and he faces me. "Hey. You made it."
Walking over to him, I purposely knock him on the side of his knee with my hand. "Course I did. How they hangin'?"
"Who the hell knows? I can't stand up to see if they even do," he says jokingly. "So what's goin' on, Benny? Gettin' back in the groove?"
"Eh. No groove to get back into yet. Thinking about traveling with the team to Florida on break, but...that just might bum me out."
"Cause you can't play yet?"
"Yeah."
"I hear ya. Too loudly."
I cringe. "Yeah. I guess you would. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It is what it is. Can't change things."
"I...uh...I thought you...thought you'd...um...get better and shit."
"And shit's more like it."
Sagging into the couch, I let the severity of his depression sink in - he's given up. "Dude." I want to say more, but what? Telling him he might get better are just words that may as well come out of my ass. They mean nothing.
"I'm accepting it," he says, closing his eyes.
We look at each other for a few seconds too long, so we shift our eyes comically, to find someplace else to look.
Then Johnny blurts, "Hey, you got Words With Friends on your phone?"
"Um...no. I can get it, though. Why?"
"Wanna play?"
I must be giving him a blank stare, because he laughs.
"I mean with me. Play it with me. I have it on my iPad and...you wanna play?"
"Sure." I find the app in the app store and start the download. "But...how? How can you..." I point to him in the chair, but I don't finish the sentence.
"With this." He puts his mouth on the second straw-like thing that sticks out from his chair extensions and lifts it up, pointing it at the iPad he has sitting on an electronic tray. The end of the stick has a rubber tip.
"That's some chair," I say, impressed.
"Yeah, and here before this, I only wanted a mere Mustang," he jokes.
I know he's not trying to make me feel guilty for opening my mouth, but I do.
"Hey, don't feel bad. I see it on your face. I gotta make jokes. It's how I cope. And you're allowed to laugh. In fact, I would like it if you would laugh."
I nod, but I drop it and say, "App’s loaded. Now how do I play this shit?"
Johnny laughs and rolls next to me. "They'll give you a bunch of letters and you gotta make a word out of them. Like Scrabble. You ever play Scrabble?"
"Oh yeah."
"Good." He rolls his chair back over to where he was and we play.
"Hey, that ain't a word," I say of the word ‘djin’ that he just played.
"It took my letters, and it’s fifteen points, so that means it's a word."
"Well I think it's cheating."
"Nope. If it takes the letters, it's not cheating."
Laughing, I call it "...a lame-ass game."
As we get into the comfortable groove of playing Words With Friends and hanging, I decide to bring up Rose.
"John," I start, looking at him while he decides what letters to play, "I was thinking of finding Rose."
He looks up at me, surprised. "Finding?"
"I found out she's in some mental ward in some hospital."
"Mental ward?" With his rubber-tipped stick, he lowers the iPad tray. "Why? What hap..." He stops. It registers. "She can't make jokes."
I shake my head and put down my phone. "No joking."
"She must be really depressed."
Nodding, I agree.
"Then find her."
"Find her?"
"She needs to laugh. Make her laugh, Ben."
"Make her laugh? I'm not that funny."
Johnny cracks up. "Then joke about me. Find something funny to talk to her about."
"Funny? You think joking about your situation is funny?"
"Isn't it? Isn't it hilarious that at seventeen, I'm
"Let me stop talking. He's so excited to see you. Do you mind though?" She holds out a huge bottle of Purell.
"No, of course not." I take off my sweatshirt, lay it on a bench in the foyer, and lather on the antibacterial hand gel. I rub it up my arms and everything.
"Johnny's in the family room," his mother tells me as she parades me through the kitchen.
"Hey, dude. Is that the way you greet your best friend when he comes to visit?"
Johnny's chair turns and he faces me. "Hey. You made it."
Walking over to him, I purposely knock him on the side of his knee with my hand. "Course I did. How they hangin'?"
"Who the hell knows? I can't stand up to see if they even do," he says jokingly. "So what's goin' on, Benny? Gettin' back in the groove?"
"Eh. No groove to get back into yet. Thinking about traveling with the team to Florida on break, but...that just might bum me out."
"Cause you can't play yet?"
"Yeah."
"I hear ya. Too loudly."
I cringe. "Yeah. I guess you would. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It is what it is. Can't change things."
"I...uh...I thought you...thought you'd...um...get better and shit."
"And shit's more like it."
Sagging into the couch, I let the severity of his depression sink in - he's given up. "Dude." I want to say more, but what? Telling him he might get better are just words that may as well come out of my ass. They mean nothing.
"I'm accepting it," he says, closing his eyes.
We look at each other for a few seconds too long, so we shift our eyes comically, to find someplace else to look.
Then Johnny blurts, "Hey, you got Words With Friends on your phone?"
"Um...no. I can get it, though. Why?"
"Wanna play?"
I must be giving him a blank stare, because he laughs.
"I mean with me. Play it with me. I have it on my iPad and...you wanna play?"
"Sure." I find the app in the app store and start the download. "But...how? How can you..." I point to him in the chair, but I don't finish the sentence.
"With this." He puts his mouth on the second straw-like thing that sticks out from his chair extensions and lifts it up, pointing it at the iPad he has sitting on an electronic tray. The end of the stick has a rubber tip.
"That's some chair," I say, impressed.
"Yeah, and here before this, I only wanted a mere Mustang," he jokes.
I know he's not trying to make me feel guilty for opening my mouth, but I do.
"Hey, don't feel bad. I see it on your face. I gotta make jokes. It's how I cope. And you're allowed to laugh. In fact, I would like it if you would laugh."
I nod, but I drop it and say, "App’s loaded. Now how do I play this shit?"
Johnny laughs and rolls next to me. "They'll give you a bunch of letters and you gotta make a word out of them. Like Scrabble. You ever play Scrabble?"
"Oh yeah."
"Good." He rolls his chair back over to where he was and we play.
"Hey, that ain't a word," I say of the word ‘djin’ that he just played.
"It took my letters, and it’s fifteen points, so that means it's a word."
"Well I think it's cheating."
"Nope. If it takes the letters, it's not cheating."
Laughing, I call it "...a lame-ass game."
As we get into the comfortable groove of playing Words With Friends and hanging, I decide to bring up Rose.
"John," I start, looking at him while he decides what letters to play, "I was thinking of finding Rose."
He looks up at me, surprised. "Finding?"
"I found out she's in some mental ward in some hospital."
"Mental ward?" With his rubber-tipped stick, he lowers the iPad tray. "Why? What hap..." He stops. It registers. "She can't make jokes."
I shake my head and put down my phone. "No joking."
"She must be really depressed."
Nodding, I agree.
"Then find her."
"Find her?"
"She needs to laugh. Make her laugh, Ben."
"Make her laugh? I'm not that funny."
Johnny cracks up. "Then joke about me. Find something funny to talk to her about."
"Funny? You think joking about your situation is funny?"
"Isn't it? Isn't it hilarious that at seventeen, I'm
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