“Anyway, what’s going on with you is too fucking crazy not to believe something’s different at this point,” he says. “Hard not to notice when you go from staying in your room all day to being paranoid about everything, stealing the car, crashing it. Like, this ain’t you. None of it. And even if it was the ghost, I’m glad one of you decided to fight me back. I needed that.”

I can’t figure out what to say next. Thank you? You’re welcome? I’m grateful for this moment, but it feels so foreign, like Benji is speaking a new language.

“You kind of fucked up the Tahoe,” he says. “I hope you have money for repairs.”

Oh, shit. “Is Mom mad?”

“Just worried and confused. But she’ll be glad you’re awake.”

I still enjoy stuff like the cartoon that’s playing, along with animated movies and stuff aimed at kids. I wonder if Benji put it on because he knew I would want to see it as I woke up. I always feel like I’m learning slower than everyone around me what exactly I’m supposed to like and how I’m supposed to be.

“Benji?” I say.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gay.”

He nods. “Yes. You are.”

“You knew?”

“Yes, everybody knows.” He smiles and blinks, not mocking, but not concerned with it either. “I’m glad almost dying in the middle of a road has given you the courage to say it.”

“I can’t be that gay.”

“Nah, you’re pretty gay.”

I never wanted to hide who I was until I was told to. I bought the magazine because even if the world wasn’t ready to take me seriously, I was ready to take myself seriously as a member of the LGBTQ+ community.

When Dad was beating me up and Mom was watching, Benji came downstairs, I guess to see what was going on. He watched too, for a few seconds. And then he jumped in, grabbed my dad’s arms, and stopped him. Dad screamed at him to get off, but Benji persisted and pushed him away from me, forming an open path for me to escape.

“Jake, get out!” he shouted before my dad knocked the blood from my brother’s gums.

They stumbled around the living room, and I escaped through the kitchen.

I ran and cried and regretted the day I was born, until finally I fell asleep on the swings of our neighborhood park, clinging to particles of rain condensation for comfort.

There are many things about life I’ve yet to understand, because some resist clear definitions. Like Benji, who’s always been easy for me to call a train wreck. A rebel with no cause. A bully whose shadow I never wanted to live in because I didn’t want people thinking I was like him.