Cubby
I sit cross-leggedon the couch, a giant bowl of cereal in my lap, and numbly watch the Real Housewives argue in their dramatic glory. I’m in my robe even though it’s four in the afternoon, barely fighting off a deadly mixture of despair and panic.
“Still no good news?” Meg asks as she wanders down the stairs.
I glance at my phone, but two days after launching my first video, there’s only a paltry trickle of notifications from social media, a handful of likes and shares from friends. With a distressed gasp, I throw the phone on the couch and turn back to my sugary cereal.
“This is the worst. The absolute worst. I might as well just delete my social media now and cut my losses.”
Meg plops down on the other end of the couch. “It’s not that bad.”
“I get more likes on a picture of my breakfast!” I object, then hand her the bowl. “This is humiliating! It’s one thing to put your butt online. But to post ass and then get ignored!” I groan and fall back against the armrest. “This is the worst disaster in the history of gay people being online.”
“You did make new accounts. Maybe your old followers just need some time to make it over?”
“Says the amphibian woman who doesn’t even have Instagram.” I gesture to the calendar hanging on the wall by the TV. “The entire schedule is based on an aggressive growth model. If no one is watching my videos, then what? We end up broke pariahs by September? Is that what you want, Meg? To live with the frogs?”
“I wouldn’t mind it.”
I fumble for my phone, load up my first video, and almost burst into tears. “212 views. That’s it!”
“212 people isn’t nothing.”
“I probably watched it two-hundred times myself!”
Meg winces. “Good point.” She hands me back the cereal. “So what’s the plan? Do we need to re-strategize?”
“There’s no time.” I push the spoon around the bowl. “I just have to keep going. I already scheduled another video to post tonight.” I stand, fighting off tears at the idea of posting humiliating failure after humiliating failure. “It’s just me and you and my dying dream now, Meg. Chug-chug-chugging along like the little gay engine that couldn’t.”
“Choo-choo,” Meg deadpans.
I tighten my robe, take one last spoonful of cereal, and then throw my hair back. “Thank God for Chase. I’ll get fucked good and silly at his no-cell-reception cabin, and then tomorrow, it’s back to the grind.”
“You’ll be back tonight?”
“Of course,” I answer, wiping my eyes. “I need to not sleep over so I don’t get attached.”
“Because you’re totally not attached. Right?”
I turn and start up the stairs. “One failure at a time, Meg!” I call over my shoulder. “One failure at a time.”
* * *
By the time I’ve driven to Chase’s cabin outside of town, I manage to pull myself at least partly together. My self-care routines helped, like the new gold manicure I gave myself and the long bubble bath, but the despair still threatens to return.
I’ve believed in this dream for so long. I don’t really have a backup plan. My heart still insists that this is my path in life, but what good does that do me if it can’t pay the bills?
At the cabin, I push it all out of my mind the best I can. Chase is my oasis, and not just because I’m prevented from obsessively checking my social media while I’m at his place. He’s kind and steady and grounding, and we vibe together like I never have with another person. Our connection makes it tempting to unload all this on him, but I steel myself to hold it in.
I don’t want to blabber at him about my failures. For all I know, my butt video will drive him away just like it drove away my online audience.
“Cubby!” Chase hollers from the cabin. “Hey there!”
I pause, standing next to the car. The sun is setting behind the mountain, casting purple and pink splashes across the cloudy sky. Max barks and runs toward me, and wind rustles through the trees. It’s peaceful and perfect and so beautiful, I almost stop breathing. I’m struck by incredible gratitude that I get to be here, but doubt is creeping in too.
I’m way, way more relieved to see Chase than I should be.
I stroll up the path, summoning a smile. “Good evening!” I call out. “Another beautiful night in the Adirondacks!”
