* * *
JP:That pool float you ordered for my pool, the giant pigeon, it came in. I laughed for a solid ten minutes, blew it up, and it’s where I am now, floating naked on the pigeon. I’d send you a picture, but I shouldn’t even be contacting you. Made me laugh, and made me miss you more. I wish you were floating on it with me.
JP:I’m here, waiting for when you’re ready to talk.
* * *
JP:Fuck... I just miss you, Kelsey.
JP:I miss you so fucking much.
JP:Call me when you’re ready.
* * *
The front doorto my house opens and shuts, the sound echoing through the emptiness of my dark house.
“Dude, I know you’re in here,” Breaker says. “Are you going to make me follow the scent of your unwashed body, or are you going to help a guy out and at least groan so I know where you are?”
“In here,” I say somberly from where I’m spread across the couch in my living room.
I’m not prepared for the blast of ungodly light that fills the dark room when he flips on the switch to the overhead lights.
I cover my eyes with my forearm and mutter, “Fuck... you.”
“Jesus Christ,” Breaker says from the entrance of the living room. “Have you fucking moved from the couch in the last week?”
“Yes.” I roll over on the couch so my stomach is pressed against the cushions. I bury my head into a throw pillow and mutter against the fabric, “I’ve gotten up to pee.”
“Shocking, I thought you’d have peed in one of the many bottles of... what is this?” From the corner of my eye, I see him pick up an empty bottle. “Is this root beer?”
“All natural, made with cane sugar.”
“Is it good?”
“No.” I shake my head. “But I purchased six cases of it so I’ve been drinking them.”
“Why the hell would you buy that much?”
“Wanted the feel of clutching a bottle, but without the alcohol. There’s something so... poetic about clutching a bottle when dealing with heartache.”
Breaker stands over me, bottle dangling from his fingers. “You know, bro, I think you’ve hit rock bottom.”
I turn again, now looking up toward the ceiling. I pinch my brow and say, “That would be an accurate description.”
“Have you made any donations lately? I know that’s your MO when you’re sad.”
I slowly swallow and say, “The pigeon shelter I’ve been supporting is now renaming its building the JP Cane Pigeon Rescue. The JPCPR. Has a fucking great ring to it. There’s some press going out next week about it. They asked if I’d show up for the dedication of the new name, and do you know how pathetic I am?”
“Tell me.” Breaker takes a seat on the coffee table in front of me.
“I told them I’d be honored, but only on one condition.” I sit up. “I asked that Kazoo be invited so I could meet him.”
“Dude—”
“That’s not the worst of it.” I look my brother dead in the eyes and say, “I commissioned some lady on Etsy to make matching a shirt and bow tie set, one that would fit me and one that would fit a pigeon... out of Kazoo fabric.”
“Oh fuck... JP.”
