“Can’t what?” Bubba asks.
“I can’t pretend to get along with Johnny. It’s like trying to have a rational discussion with a walrus.”
“See?” I say, mostly to Bubba. “Another nuke.”
Ezra glares at me. “Spell nuclear.”
“Ezra,” Bubba scolds, rearing back his hand and spanking Ezra’s ass. A little too lightly, if you ask me, considering I think he just implied I’m stupid.
“N,” I begin, but then I’m not sure if it’s an E, a U, or a double O next. I was never the best speller. I ain’t book smart, but I ain’t no fuckin’ moron. I’m just country folk.
For the first time ever, Bubba looks pissed at Ezra. He’s looking at his precious boy toy with a clenched jaw and a bulging vein in the center of his forehead. “That was cruel, Ezra.” It’s a voice he’s never taken with him before, all low and deep and full of anger, but there's this little twinge in my heart, wanting to tell Bubba to bring it down a notch.
Ezra stares at us like he just got caught murdering a man. “Shit. Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Because you mean it,” I bite back, my voice a little weaker than I expected. “I might not be a good speller, but I ain’t dumb.” Tears are welling up in my eyes, and I look out at the lake like the words meant nothing, because they shouldn’t. People have told me I’m stupid ever since I moved out of Dunsberry, but it feels different coming from Ezra. He’s right, of course. I ain’t real smart, and I ain’t never going to be able to match his skills atJeopardy. He can give Bubba so muchmore than I can ever hope to. As a friend, and maybe more. He’s smart, and I’m obviously not, and now Ezra’s just said it like it was true, right in front of the man we’re fighting for. It’s no wonder Bubba didn’t wait around for me. I sniffle. I try not to, but it's too fuckin’ hard, and it feels like there’s a lump the size of a golf ball in the back of my throat.
“Bubs?” Ezra says. I can’t bring myself to look away from the water.
“Ezra,” Bubba says.Not Ezzy.Not Little Man. Not his Buddy.Ezra.And it’s said with so much second-hand anger, it takes my breath away. He’s mad. If I know my best friend like I think I do, he’s pissed. I should take joy in the fact he’s angry on my behalf, but I’m not. I’m just sad. Sad and so fuckin’ embarassed, because I don’t want Bubba to think of me that way, and I don’t think I want Ez to think I’m stupid, neither, no matter how true it is. “That’s the most hateful thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“I know,” Ezra says, his voice small. Fragile, almost. “I fucked up.”
Bubba will forgive him like he always does, and they’ll both skirt around my hurt, because his precious boy can do no wrong. That’s what I think at least, but then Bubba’s hand touches my shoulder, and it feels like coming home.
“You’re not stupid,” he says, sounding like he really means it. “You’re not dumb, Johnny Boy.”
I don’t want the focus on me right now, because if I look into his big, kind eyes, I’ll start crying, and I’m a man. Men don’t cry. We bottle our feelings until they boil over, and we take that anger out on our bros, beating the fuck out of each other, and then sharing a beer when it’s done. Ezra is always crying, and I don’t want Bubba to see me as weak. Not that Ezra’s weak. He’s one of the strongest men I know. He’d have to be after everything his parents put him through.
“It’s fine,” I say, proud of the way I keep my voice from shaking. “I’m fine, Bubba. I’m fine.” His lips press warmly against my neck, and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep quiet.
“You’re not fine,” he says, and then he brings his voice so low I can barely hear, adding, “But I know you don’t want to break in front of him.” He kisses the side of my face, rubbing my bald head with his hand. “You’re not stupid, baby. Say it.”
I don’t want to say it, because I don’t believe it, but it’s what my best friend asked me to do, and I owe him everything. “I ain’t stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Johnny,” he repeats. I guess he knows I need to hear it again.
“Bubba?” Ezra says softly, and I growl, because he’s fucking ruining it, just like he always does. He’s always fucking here with that big personality and that big, fat, perky ass, drawing the attention to him like fuckin’ moths to a flame. “Can you give me and Johnny a minute? Please?”
“Are you okay with that, Johnny Boy?”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding, refusing to look back at them. “I’m okay. I ain’t a piece of china. I ain’t going to break.”
Bubba sighs. “Okay. But when I get back here, I want smiles on both your faces, and I want this fixed. It’s one thing to tease each other or play your silly pranks, but I can’t stand here and let you hurt each other like this.”
“I know,” Ezra agrees, and then Bubba’s footsteps thud down the dock, leaving us on our own.
I look up to see Bubba heading back toward the truck. He takes a seat inside, probably staring at a picture of Ezra on his phone, staring all love-sick, I’m sure. The silence between Ezra and me is so loud, it’s like a sonic boom, and then his hand touches my arm.
“Don’t,” I warn him.
“Johnny, please look at me.”
I dab at my cheeks with my palms to make sure there aren’t any tears showing, and I slowly turn to face him. “What, Ezra? What else is there to say?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and it almost sounds like he means it.
“No. You ain’t. You’ve called me stupid enough times for me to know it’s how you really feel.”
