Party Girl_ A Novel - Anna David [66]
“You think you need to tell me—what does that mean?” I ask, dipping a finger in my latte to do a temperature test. “Ouch,” I say, licking the hot liquid off my finger.
“It means…” Justin looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. “It means I know I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” I’m immediately in a panic, positive that he’s going to confess that he’s been sneaking out of Sober Living to smoke crystal meth. “Did you go out?”
“Dear God, take that back,” Justin says, shaking his head.
“Then what is it?” I ask. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Remember what Tommy used to say: ‘There are no big deals’?”
Justin nods and looks down. “Jason wasn’t just my roommate,” he says, and before he utters another word, I know exactly what his big confession is going to be, and something inside of me isn’t all that surprised.
I should have known. Whenever Justin talked about people he dated, he’d say “this person” and never “he” or “she.” And of course it was kind of weird for a thirty-five-year-old to have a roommate, let alone one he was always brawling with. Even though when we first met, I fantasized that our friendship would one day morph into true love, something in me had basically abandoned that concept long ago, and I think that something was a sixth sense that he wasn’t exactly oriented that way.
“I know,” I say.
“You do?” he asks, looking immensely relieved. “How?”
I smile. “Honey, I live in West Hollywood and grew up outside San Francisco. As far as I’m concerned, we heteros are the minority.”
Justin laughs. “I know, it does sometimes seem that way,” he says. “And I’m not ashamed of it. Or maybe I am. I don’t know. Jason thinks I am. But I think it’s just that I have a kind of deep voice and don’t wear supertight clothes and so people just assume I’m straight.” He shakes his head. “Straight people will say, ‘Wow, you look so straight,’ like that’s a compliment.”
“I get it,” I say. “When people find out I’m Jewish, they say, ‘You’re Jewish? But you’re pretty!’ I’m never sure if I’m supposed to thank them or tell them to fuck off.”
Justin laughs again. “Well, I’m glad I could tell you this,” he says softly, once he’s stopped.
I grin at him. “Me, too.”
He takes a sip of his latte and licks foam off his upper lip. “And, I want you to know that if I were ever going to be with a woman, it would be you.”
“And if I were ever going to be with a gay man, I want you to know that it would be you.”
“Shut up!” he exclaims, tossing a napkin at me. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” I say, tossing the napkin back.
“Seriously deranged,” he says and then we both start laughing like we’ve just inhaled entire tanks of nitrous oxide. The phrase “high on life” floats through my mind and I want to share it with Justin, but I’m laughing too hard to get the words out.
Stephanie and I meet at the bottom of Runyon Canyon. She’s the one who had suggested hiking, and while the old me would have tried to convince her to do anything else, I’m realizing that there are so many things in L.A.—and the world—that I haven’t experienced or even been aware of because trying them has always seemed more daunting than just, say, meeting for drinks.
I’m not exactly sure what’s going to happen here—if Stephanie wants to talk about my making out with Gus or just proceed as if nothing happened—but I feel clear about the fact that I want to apologize either way. With some sobriety under my belt, I see how truly out of control my behavior was. It really didn’t start and end with making out with Gus the night of the party, either; I’m starting to see how much I’ve always felt entitled to whatever I’ve thought I wanted and how few boundaries I’ve had with friends. But I’m also learning not to beat myself up for that. Rachel is always reminding me that alcoholics and addicts are naturally self-centered people, and that I haven’t been bad but “sick.” And now I’m trying to get well.
“Hey there,” Stephanie says, giving me an awkward hug when I walk up to her at the Gardner