How to Be a Normal Person (34 page)

That being said, Gus thought that bear-ly having a leg to stand on was quite possibly the greatest thing he’d ever read and while he didn’t want Casey to ever get attacked by a bear, he would be ready should the situation arise. He made a mental note to look up how to fight off a bear so that he could teach Casey later on.

If they were still together, of course.

That sobered him up quite a bit, knowing Casey might not be around to have Gus help him fight off bears or hear inappropriate amputee-humor. That didn’t make him feel very good because Gus
wanted
to be there for Casey to help him fight off bears and hear inappropriate amputee-humor.

Gus could do that, though. He could trust Casey. He could be there for him through the good and the bad. He could even consider traveling to LA to visit him, though the thought of driving across state lines and/or flying put a knot in his stomach. Sure, it would suck to not see him every day, to not be able to hug him when he wanted, but he could do this, right? He could—

But he hadn’t heard that from Casey, had he? He hadn’t even been told. He’d had to hear Casey was leaving from someone else, someone who had no real business in their relationship. Gus could be planning these ridiculous trips, these grandiose plans to help Casey shave beavers after he lost his legs to a bear attack, when Casey probably didn’t even want the same thing. Why else would Casey not bring up the fact that he was leaving? Why would he have kept it a secret?

Gus was not a stupid man. And for the longest time, Gus had been a cautious man, guarding what was left of his heart completely and fully, barely letting any light in for fear it was a trick and would only lead to more dark.

But in came Casey. Casey with his stupid hair and stupid tattoos and his stupid smile that made Gus squirm with everything he felt at the sight of it. Casey systematically tore down all the walls Gus had constructed around himself and he did it with a joint and a hug and Gus had fallen in deep.

Casey was leaving.

Maybe that meant Casey didn’t feel the same way.

Maybe that meant Gus had been nothing more than a summer fling.

That didn’t mesh with what Gus knew about Casey, but then Gus remembered he was abnormal.

And weird.

And strange.

And the bushes of disbelief began to grow.

HOW TO
Break Up With Someone

Sometimes, a relationship will have run its course. Whether it’s because two people want different things or they no longer have the same feelings they once did, it is a fact of life that for every beginning, there is an ending. It might be your fault, or your lover’s fault, or it might be both or neither. The fact remains that a decision must be made that is in the best interest of both lovers, even if it hurts at first to consider.

However, before you read the sensitive, easy steps that are to follow, ask yourself one question.

What are you doing?

“What,” Gus said.

Seriously. What are you doing?

“Uhh,” Gus said.

Are you making the right decision? Is it because there is legitimately no way to save your relationship? Is it because you have explored every viable course and found no way to proceed? If the person cheated on you, leave them. If you no longer feel romantic attraction, end it. If your lover hurt you beyond repair, then by all means, take the next steps and move on. There are many valid reasons to end a relationship.

So. What are you doing?

The right thing?

Or are you being a butt-hurt, self-sacrificing asshole?

“Uhh,” Gus said.

Think about it. If you well and truly have a reason, then skip to the steps. Have at it and end your relationship. But if you’re still reading this, most likely it’s because you’re about to make a huge mistake. So things have gotten hard. So you have more questions than answers. Here’s a thought: why not try having a conversation like an adult before making a decision that potentially affects your entire life? This isn’t a romantic comedy filled with quirky friends and mischievous misadventures that don’t seem to happen to real people. There is no meet-cute, no zany sidekicks, and there doesn’t need to be a big misunderstanding before you get to your happily ever after. There doesn’t need to be unnecessary angst to drive you apart while you try and pull your head out of your ass. You are not Jennifer Lopez and you are not a maid in Manhattan (disregard if you are actually employed in cleaning services in New York). If only people talked as much as they overthought everything else, the world would be a much different place. Miscommunication is ridiculous and can be avoided if you just
talk about it.
Talk about your problems. Talk about your concerns. Don’t be a douche and end something because of assumptions made.

Before you break up with someone, remember this: love is a precious thing. The fact that you feel it must mean something, right? You have given your heart away. Maybe you should trust in the person you gave it to, to care for it as you care for theirs. If they’ve done nothing to betray that trust, well.

What are you doing?

Gus was convinced that Skynet was real.

The machines were becoming sentient.

Steve Jobs would rise and Gus would need to bookmark the page on how to take him down for future review. He would become the savior of mankind. He might even get a parade dedicated to him.

That sounded just awful.

And also?

Gustavo Tiberius loved Casey Richards.

He threw off the comforter.

He closed the laptop and placed it on the floor.

He stood.

He felt good (ish). He felt right (ish).

He could do this. (Probably.)

Harry S. Truman blinked up at him.

“I read inspirational messages on calendars,” Gus said.

Harry S. Truman yawned.

“I read encyclopedias and don’t have a cell phone with a stupidly large screen.”

Harry S. Truman stretched his paws out in front of him.

“I don’t take pictures of my food and post it online because what the hell is the point of that, oh my god.”

Harry S. Truman rose to his little feet.

“I own an outdated business and sometimes, I like to get stoned.”

Harry S. Truman licked himself.

“I fucking hate the Strawberry Festival and think beef jerky is an acceptable dessert.”

Harry S. Truman rolled onto his back.

“And I’m pretty sure I have a lot of awkward feelings for a stoner asexual hipster.”

Harry S. Truman squeaked.

Gustavo Tiberius said, “Come on, Harry S. Truman. We’re going to go openly communicate with Casey and make sure he knows I care! Like an
adult
.”

Gus felt good. He had this.

He
had
this.

Gus then tripped over Harry S. Truman and belly flopped onto the ground.

“Motherfucker,” Gus wheezed as the ferret with merit licked his face. “My spleen. Ow, my
spleen
.”

Ten minutes later, a sufficient amount of air had gotten back into Gus’s lungs and he was able to slowly lift himself off the ground.

“Okay,” he groaned. “Now we’ll go.”

He moved slowly toward the door.

He grimaced as he picked up Harry S. Truman and put him in his carrier.

He stood, ready to face his romantic destiny.

“Fuck yeah,” he said as he winced. “Let’s rock and roll.”

IT WAS
pouring down rain.

Seriously.

Fuck his life.

“Goddammit,” Gus muttered.

He reached back inside the house only to find he’d left the umbrella at the Emporium.

“God
dammit
,” Gus grumbled.

It was cool. He could do this. It was just a mad dash across the street. Casey would probably be at Lottie’s Lattes and Gus would burst in and say something so awesome that Casey would stop whatever he was doing and they would hug for, like, seven minutes or something. And then they would live happily long-distance ever after and Gus might sometime consider visiting California but probably not really because he was not ridiculous and had never, ever considered making vegan banana-nut granola bars just for the hell of it.

God. California was so weird.

Whatever. Gus was going to be amazing.

Casey would too.

Long-distance.

It was going to be stupid cool and everything would be awesome.

Gus really needed to stop hanging out with hipsters. His lexicon had taken a serious nosedive. He reminded himself to read the encyclopedia tonight before he went to bed.

He started his mad dash across the street.

He made it to the sidewalk when a moving truck passed by, splashing a large puddle up and onto Gus.

“
Goddammit
!” Gus shouted.

By the time he made it to the shop, he was scowling more than he’d done in three months. He thought maybe it would be best if he walked into the shop with a smile, but he had rainwater in his ass crack and that was not conducive to a smiling, happy Gus.

He could do this.

He was Gustavo Tiberius.

Well.

Not that that meant a whole lot.

But still.

He opened the door.

The bell rang overhead.

And he stopped.

Gus said, “Uhh.”

Because in this shop stood Bernice, Bertha, and Betty. And Lottie. And Xander, Josiah, and Serge. And Casey, of course, who was pacing back and forth, a worried look on his face.

That is until Gus walked in.

They all stared at him.

Xander looked upset.

Casey looked nervous.

The others looked amused, exasperated, curious, and in the case of the hipsters, somewhat stoned.

Gus couldn’t decide what to say first. He knew it was probably a bad idea to open his mouth without a clear thought in his head, but the silence was stretching and it was getting
awkward
and Gus couldn’t have that. He couldn’t let Casey think he had nothing to say to him, not if he was going to be the best boyfriend possible.

So as he stood in the doorway to Lottie’s Lattes, dripping water onto the floor, an angry, wet ferret at his side, Gustavo Tiberius looked Casey Richards straight in the eye and said, “I want to be a lesbian with you and shave your pinewood beaver.”

And meant
every word of it
.

The
problem
with that is he
hadn’t meant to say those words in particular. So while the actual verbiage was wrong, the inflection behind it was everything that he could put into it, all his love and hope. His fears and thoughts on the future. His dreams for the two of them, because
yes
, Gustavo Tiberius had dreams for the fucking future that involved waking and baking, working at the Emporium while Casey typed his latest literary drivel that would be consumed by fifteen-year-old girls who didn’t understand why the books caused aches in their groins. There would be trips to the grocery stores, smoking out of hollowed-out apples, family Christmas cards that went out where Gus was scowling in the picture because it was the stupidest thing ever, and maybe,
just maybe
, they’d be sitting on rocking chairs on the porch when they were seventy, holding hands and reminiscing about the day that Gus took down the overlord Steve Jobs because of something he read on the Internet.

Unfortunately, it can be rather difficult to discern a love confession when you bust into a coffee shop and make what are potentially inflammatory comments about lesbians and beavers. It was about that time that Gus realized that it might have been better off had he been born mute. Surely at least then he could have avoided the way the acoustics in the shop seemed to echo his voice. He may have been bullshitting about testing the acoustics weeks before, but now he really wished he’d listened to himself then.

And thought ahead.

And had the power to disappear.

He wondered if he could make it to Canada by morning if he left right now. He heard Canada was nice.

That was a lie. He heard Canada was just really cold.

But that was fine. He could hunt yak or whatever. Wear their hair for, like, boots and stuff.

He told his feet to move.

His feet said fuck you, we ain’t goin’ nowheres.

He wondered why they sounded like 1920s gangsters in his head.

He wondered how much time had passed since he’d burst into Lottie’s Lattes.

He thought maybe it’d been five or six seconds.

It was Josiah who spoke first.

Like the waiter-stoner-wannabe actor that he was, he said, “Pinewood beavers. That sounds like a lesbian Boy Scout porn parody. If you make that into a movie, I want to audition for a role.”

Gus blushed terribly.

Casey made that strangled noise he did every time Gus’s face turned red.

Lottie said, “Oh dear god. You two deserve each other.”

“Is that what happens when you get exposed to the Internet for the first time?” Bernice whispered to her sister-lovers.

“No,” Betty said. “I think that’s just Gus. Poor, sweet, innocent Gus.”

“Doesn’t seem to be
that
innocent anymore,” Bertha said.

“I can’t help but feel that this is partially my fault,” Xander said.

“Honestly?” Serge said. “I might be a bit too baked to understand what’s going on. Why does Gus want to shave Casey’s beaver?” He blanched. “Oh my god, what the hell did I just say?”

“I’ve seen things on the Internet!” Gus said, sounding rather like Harry S. Truman in that his voice was high-pitched and rather ferret-like. He knew he had to try and explain what the hell was going on in his head, but it was all just static noise. His mouth didn’t seem to care. “Things. Like.
Things
.”

“Maybe we should have installed parental locks on your computer,” Bertha said with a frown. “It sounds like you’ve been looking up things a boy your age shouldn’t have access to.”