“Your sneakers,” I say, turning my eyes to the window. Hugo is sitting like a dead insect in the corner, collecting dust. As always, I’ll need to manage this emotional fallout. “You shouldn’t have to pull the laces that tightly. Get a smaller size.”
Adam laughs, unamused. “Uh, I’ve been buying my own shoes all by myself for a long time, man. I think I know my shoe size.”
I turn to face him. “Apparently not.”
“What the hell is your problem?”
“I know how shoes are supposed to fit,” I say, even as I wish I’d never spoken. I don’t know why I brought this up. I don’t know why I’m still talking. I wish I could take it back. “You shouldn’t have to choke the laces in order for the shoesto stay on. If you have to strain the laces like that, then you’ve chosen the wrong fit for your foot—”
“You know,” he says, cutting me off, “it’s shit like this that makes people hate you. Why do you need to lecture me about my shoes? Let me choke my fucking laces if I want to. Why do you care?”
“Because someone has to care,” I counter. “Someone has to know that there’s a correct way of doing things. Why would you choose to do it wrong when there’s a better way? Why insist on the path of ignorance simply because it’s familiar? And why do you need to use profanity to emphasize your point? How many times have we talked about this?”
“You know what I love?” says Adam, crossing his arms.
I can feel his anger building now.
“I really, really love it when you, the reigning king of virtue, give me life advice.”
I shake my head, looking away.
“Like, you could be shooting someone in the face,” Adam goes on, “and if I walked by at that exact moment and said,Holy shit, you just shot someone in the face!you’d look at me like I was the one who did something wrong.”
“I only shoot people when they deserve it,” I point out. “Yet you feel the need to punctuate every other sentence with a vulgar epithet that only serves to diminish you in the process—”
“Wow,” he says, feigning amazement. “You should be studied. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more delusional in my life. Except maybe James, and we both know that’s your fault.”
“My fault?” I say, stiffening as I turn to face him. Fury radiates through my chest. “My fault?”
Adam scowls. “Yes, bro, fucking your fault—”
“If this situation is anyone’s fault, it’s yours,” I say sharply. “You made him think it was okay to disrespect authority, to live arrogantly. You made him think it was okay to be reckless. You made him think it was acceptable to speak using the cheapest words language has to offer—”
“Me?” Adam makes a sound of disbelief. He uncrosses his legs; sits forward; finally stops bouncing. “Are you serious? If I had any influence over that kid I would’ve prevented him from turning intoyou—”
I physically recoil. “He’s nothing like me.”
“He’s exactly like you!” Adam cries, throwing up his hands before rising to his feet. “You both occupy the same delusional landscape! He thinks he’s some kind of superhero. He thinks he can go around murdering bad guys for a living. You made him believe he could grow up to become king of the fucking world—”
“I did no such thing—”
“Bullshit—”
“He never even listens to me,” I argue. “I’ve spent ten years trying to teach him to be disciplined and thoughtful, and instead he’s turned out to be entirely unmanageable—”
“I really thought it’d be good for him, you know?” Adam is saying. “I knew he’d seen some dark things. I could tell he was desperate to prove himself. Even as a kid he was doing dangerous shit, always nearly getting himself killed, and I was worried he’d end up hurting himself without an avenueto work out his anger. I thought training him would be productive. I thought he’d at least learn proper self-defense. I thought it would make his life safer. I thought he’d spend a few years working things out of his system and then he’d come to his senses, and instead he’s lost his fucking mind and fallen for a psychopath—and all because of you—”
“You coddled him!” I counter. “You gave him too much positive reinforcement. You fed him too many lies about life. You didn’t want him to be afraid of the world. You made him think he could be anything he wanted to be if he just believed in himself—”
“Oh yeah? Well, you fucking spoiledhim,” Adam shouts back. “You gave him whatever he wanted. You gave him a fancy title and too much power. You let him go everywhere with you. You let him see how people look at you and talk to you and shit their pants around you and he fucking loved every second of it. Hell, he even looks like you—”
“It’s not my fault,” I say, my voice rising dangerously, “that James decided to take the wealth of knowledge I gave him and use it to make bad decisions—”
“It sure as hell isn’t myfault—”
“Yes, it is—”
“No, it isn’t—”
