It was the gas station sushi. It was on a plate. He had arranged it.
Shay: I think it's good? it's either good or I'm about to learn something important about my own biology
Me: That is not food.
Shay: it's technically food
Me: Shay. That has been in a refrigerator case under fluorescent lighting since at minimum Tuesday.
Shay: it's fine. I've eaten worse
Me: When?
Shay: the rookie hazing thing in my first season, don't ask
Shay: okay you can ask
Shay: felix
Shay: ASK
I was smiling. I noticed this the same way I noticed the crack in the ceiling , the way you notice a thing you've been pretending not to see. I put the phone face,down, held it there for four seconds, and picked it back up.
Me: What did they make you eat.
What followed was a seven,minute account, delivered in real time with escalating horror and detail, of Shay's first,year rookie initiation, which involved a blended concoction of items sourced from the training room, a vending machine, and what Shay described as "the shelf in the equipment room that no one talks about." It was revolting. I read every word.
By midnight,fifteen I was sitting up against my headboard with the light on, phone in both hands, and I had laughed three times. Quietly, because it was midnight, but still. Three times.
This was also not in the system.
Shay: okay okay the point is I survived and I am FINE and gas station sushi is basically gourmet compared to that
Me: I want it noted that I've never participated in rookie hazing.
Shay: noted. you're very moral. gold star. I'm still eating the sushi
Me: How is it?
Thirty seconds of nothing. Then:
Shay: ...it's not great
Shay: it's not NOT food though
Shay: I've committed, felix. I can't back out now. it's a respect thing
I laughed again. Out loud this time, to the empty room. It bounced off the walls and disappeared, and the apartment was quiet again, and I sat in that quiet for a second and thought: this is the problem. This right here. Midnight,twenty, laughing at gas station sushi, the ceiling forgotten, the system in ruins.
Shay had been dismantling my system in small increments for four years. A text at the wrong hour. A chirp that was too specific, too accurate. The way he said my name , not Wren, the way everyone else did, not hey, the way he addressed the world , but Felix. Always Felix. Like the name was something he'd decided to keep.
I was aware of what that meant and I was choosing, actively and with great effort, not to mean it.
Me: Eat something real tomorrow. Before skate.
Shay: yes dad
Me: Good night.
