“Sebby said he got you that appointment with his therapist?” Rhys asks from under his big floppy hat.
We’re sitting on a picnic blanket in the middle of the park. Noel is on the other side of Rhys. Angel and Christian are at the barbecue, grilling up sausages and hamburgers. Bellamy, Sebastian, and Santino are throwing around a frisbee. Normally, I’d be up there with them, helping with the food or running after the frisbee. Normally, I would be smiling and laughing and having a good time. But I don’t feel like it today.
I didn’t even feel like coming to the picnic at all. But I didn’t want to be at home when all of my friends were out having fun. Maybe that’s not a good reason for coming, but it got me here.
Old Hayden loved picnics. He loved being in the park with the sun shining and the grass freshly cut. He loved seeing all the people of the city out and about, living their lives. I still like those things too, I guess. They just don’t hold the same appeal they used to. They don’t fill me with a sense of freedom and joy anymore.
“Yeah,” I say absentmindedly to Rhys while my gaze drifts to Santino, who jumps for the frisbee. He grazes it with his fingertips, but doesn’t manage to get his hand around it.
It’s been a couple days since that call with his mom. He’s been on the phone a few more times with his sisters. His mom is still upset and angry, though he says she hasn’t fallen into depression again. That’s good, I guess. But it doesn’t lessen the guilt I feel for my part in the whole thing. If I wasn’t keeping Santino for myself, his mom and the rest of his family wouldn’t be going through all that.
Everything bad that happens is your fault.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Rhys continues.
In the distance, Santino laughs as Bellamy stumbles and crashes on the grass. He holds out his hand and helps Bellamy to his feet, giving him a clap on the shoulder before they take up their places again.
“Um, no, it’s okay. Santino’s coming with me.”
Rhys cocks his head in confusion. “I thought he was going home before then.”
“Didn’t you hear?” Noel jumps in, sounding smug. “The dude canceled his flight.”
Rhys furrows his brow. “He did?”
“Our little Hayden whipped out his magic dick and now the guy can’t get enough.”
Rhys gives Noel the middle finger while casting him a dirty look. “Don’t be an asshole, asshole.”
“What?” Noel laughs with a self-satisfied smirk. “I’ve seen his dong. It’s the size of a fucking horse. Who wouldn’t fall for that thing?”
My chin drops to my chest and I twist a blade of grass until it rips between my fingers. My dick isn’t magic. My dick doesn’t even work.
Why the fuck would Santino want to stick around for a cripple?
“Oh, shut up already. Nobody asked you.” Rhys slaps Noel on the arm, but Noel shrugs it off. “Don’t listen to him, Denny. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
I try to breathe through the vise tightening around my chest. Noel doesn’t know about my deformity. He’s just being an asshole for the sake of it. He wouldn’t make that joke if he knew what was wrong.
He would laugh in your face. He would be disgusted.
I rip another clump of grass from the ground.
“Food’s ready!” Angel calls out, bringing over a big covered platter from the barbecue.
I glance up just in time to watch Santino wind up and fling his arm out, sending the plastic disc flying through the air, aimed directly at Sebastian. Sebastian catches it easily, spins around, and tosses it toward Bellamy. Bellamy dives for it, snatching it right before it touches the ground. Hopping to his feet, he jogs back to us with Santino and Sebastian trailing behind him.
Santino heads straight for me, plopping down on the ground next to me.
“Oh my god, I’m starving,” he says, eyeing the food hungrily.
The sausages are piled in a pyramid on the plate, each toasted with just a little char and glistening with grease. Thehamburger patties are stacked into neat towers. I can smell the cooked meat. But it doesn’t smell good to me. It doesn’t smell like anything.
My appetite’s taken a nose dive in the past week and even though Santino’s been really good about reminding me to eat, I haven’t been able to swallow down much. I’m just not hungry. It’s starting to show. I look a tad gaunt in the mirror and my clothes are hanging a little too much off my frame.
I reach for the stack of plates and grab two for me and Santino. I feel like I’m moving through water as I fill the plates with Greek salad, handfuls of berries, and small mountains of chips. Then I make up a sausage on a hot dog bun for Santino and a hamburger for me.
I won’t be able to finish all this, and actually, I feel a little nauseous just looking at it. But I force myself to pick at the plate. I force myself to chew and swallow even though every bite tastes like ash.
