Armand looked lost.
“Do you want to raise money for them?”
Now he looked lost and a little bit horrified.“I can do that?”
He was beyond cute.I laughed, then had a sudden stroke of genius.“Yeah, I mean, if they want you to, you could become their spokesperson.Do interviews, do radio spots to bring awareness.Be the face of the center.”
“Lovely.”
I poked his cheek.“You have to admit, you give good face.”
Armand blushed, and I was struck wordless at how immensely I would miss seeing him every day.At least in person.I worked to stay on task.“Do you have any of yourSurrogate Gooseoriginal prints?Like rough drafts or something?”
“Er,” Armand said, clearly a few steps behind, “yes.They’re in the office.”
“Excellent.”I yanked the covers off us, reveling in his startled squeak.“Do you think I could look at them?”
Armand, though clearly still confused, agreed and led me into the inner sanctum that was his workroom.Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t made much use of the desk I’d bought him, but I still felt better knowing he wouldn’t get buried alive under it.Papers were scattered everywhere, the way he’d spread out on the floor of our California apartment in the main living area.A tornado of allegedly organized chaos.A slapdash pile of pages strewn by the trash can caught my eye.“What are these?”
Armand appeared at my side as I reached for the nearest paper.“Mistakes.Scratch paper I was throwing away.”
They wereSurrogate Goosesketches, in various stages of inking, and at first glance they seemed pretty normal—but upon closer inspection there would be a continuity error, or a weird lopsided eye.It was a gold mine.“Are you kidding?Don’t throw them away, these are gonna be worth even more than the nearly finished ones.We could auction these off for the center!People’ll pay good money to see an artist’s castoffs.”
Armand curled both hands on the back of his neck, hunching where he stood.“I guess I’m puttingallmy mistakes on the internet.”
“That’s what the internet isfor, Armand.”I leaned over to kiss his cheek—with him hunched we were nearly the same height.“Now, I’m gonna text Lakshmi and tell her about your wonderful idea.”I went to retrieve my phone, trying not to notice my suitcase I’d stashed in the corner of the living room months ago.One more job for the social media guru Lucas Barclay.
It was the least I could do.
Armand Finds the Sticking Place
December 15
22 days sober
“That’s the thing about shame,” I huffed into the microphone, wincing at the feedback.“It’s got that plastic-y good oily taste at the bottom of a dodgy sausage roll.The bit you can feel making you sick, but you keep eating it ’cause there’sgotto be a point when it gets good again.I like to curl up in mine and thrash around a bit until I can’t tell what’s my fault and what’s just the shite everyone deals with.”I squinted out over the crowd of cameras and microphones and, occasionally, nestled among them like a secret frog amongst lily pads, a human face.
But no Lucas.
“It’s so much less terrifying to pretend everything’s my own doing—that had I donethisinstead ofthat,I wouldn’t be hurting the way I am now—but that’s the long way ’round to letting myself off the hook.If everything’s my fault, nothing is, really.”
I soldiered on, glaring at my friends at the very back of the activity room.Belle was busy finding a chair for Auntie Abeni, while Hettie Marks, Winnie, and Abigay were having a whispered conversation, and Sam and Craig appeared to be simultaneously trying to chat up Lakshmi, who didn’t seem to mind.There was something horribly comforting about the fact that I was up here, baring my arse before the world, and my people were treating it like a Tuesday.I kept talking.
“But the real trick of it is to figure out what’s actually my fault and bloody apologize for it, or at least name it—haul it out into the light and get a good look at it—so you can recognize which bits of the sausage roll are making you sick.”Oh god, this metaphor was eating me.“What I mean is, if you’re too ashamed to look at your past, you can’t identify your triggers, so you pretend they aren’t there.”You end up letting your boyfriend hang around a bloody nonce.“And that’s self-sabotage, innit?”
From the back of the room, Lakshmi gave me the sign that meantwrap it upor more likelyDemetrio, you are rambling far afield.
“So.Er.That’s why we’re here today, asking you to give what you can to the Innana Alcohol and Drug Recovery Center,”to save people from the sausage roll of shame.No, say literally anything else.“To help people find the balance between control and helplessness.Courage and acceptance.”Quality save.“’Cause all we got to hold on to in this world is one another.”
Karim wasn’t present to hear me plagiarize him; he was outside doing the actual work of the center, leading a basketball match for the poor sods whose activity room was taken over by nobs with television cameras.There followed a Question and Answer session, which I quickly handed over to the head of the center, Dr.Mariam, and finally got away from the microphone.Dr.Mariam stepped aside for a youth counselor who had a lot of energy and reminded me a bit of Finch, starting the charity auction Lucas had planned.
Lakshmi called me over with a jab of her chin, one long-nailed hand poking at her phone.“Right.You’re a free man, Demetrio.”
I sagged in relief and loosened the tie Lucas had picked out over video call.“Ta.”I simpered at Sam and Craig hopefully.“Chips?”
“Nah, you fandan, I’m getting one of them hackit pages.”Sam grinned.“Been saving up for the one with the picnic basket what looks like a wee tumorous brain.”
Drawing was hard.Showing the worldhowhard appeared to be worse.I scowled, but before I could complain, Craig added, “I like the one where Jack Horner has six fingers.Probably can’t afford it, though.Seems to be a favorite.”
