Alive

Chapter 25

Oliver

(Thursday, May 16)

Arlo's quiet as we eat. He was quiet the whole way here, too. Like he doesn't believe me, which is pretty understandable, I guess. I mean, even I kind of don't believe me. It's the shadiest shit I've ever heard of. A weird procedure, everything else. I don't know. Don't really care right now, either, I've decided. Because first of all, it's working. That's what matters. And second of all, this burger's incredible. So is the next, which Arlo lets me order. I just can't seem to get enough.

"So the doctor," Arlo says finally.

"Kirk," I nod, swallowing. "Total douchebag."

"Have you looked him up?"

I take another bite, chewing slower so I won't have to answer right away. But Arlo knows me too well, I think. Because he closes his eyes. Rubs his temples as he lets out a sigh.

"You didn't even look him up?"

"I was high," I say.

"But afterward. Like earlier today. Nothing?"

"I was busy," I tell him. "I had to run errands."

"You realize this is serious," he says, "right? This super smelling side effect, your eyes back there, and I mean look at how much you're eating."

In my defense, I'm only reading over the menu. I haven't ordered the third, yet. But seeing as Arlo's already passed judgment, I may as well. I wave my hand at the waitress, point to the half pound burger. She raises her eyebrows as I order, jotting a note down.

"You're paying for that one," Arlo says. "Thirds weren't in the deal."

"No problem," I say. Then I get this rush of something awesome, because I've always wanted to be able to say that. I dig into my pocket, pulling out a twenty. Then another two. "I'll cover everything."

"Thanks," Arlo mutters, but he rests his elbows on the table, staring down at his half-eaten burger. And I kind of have to smile, because Arlo's so worried. So damn worried, like he always is. But this time I can help. This time I can make it better.

"So," I say, washing down the last bite with a swig of soda, "you nervous for the wedding? Is there a date yet?"

Arlo lowers his hands, sitting up, and I'm awarded the slightest smile.

"End of summer," he says. But nothing else. And look. It's not like I want to push the topic. I don't want to talk about it at all, really. But the fact is, I can. So, obviously, I should. That's what Arlo would do.

"Have you picked out your dress?" I ask, smirking. Arlo rolls his eyes, looking at me. But he also laughs. Then sighs.

"Honestly," he says, "Weddings are kind of a rip-off. I've had to take two extra shifts just to budget everything. I kind of wanted to keep it simple, but... I don't know."

He does know. We all know. Christie couldn't have a simple wedding if she tried. She's basically dressed for a black tie event at every moment. And I'm trying to be a good friend, right? Trying to find something supportive to say. But then it hits me. Looking at Arlo, imagining him all dressed up, standing next to him at the end of the aisle. All cool. Great, even. But then I think about the doors opening. And there's Christie, and...I just want to puke.

Of course, I don't puke. Because the waitress is back with my burger and it's even better looking than the first two. So I dig in, trying to sort out what the hell I'm supposed to do here. I always thought it was me. Like I'm the problem because fuck, that's how it's always been, right? But now here I am. Just me, however the hell I'm feeling. Ready to be that friend I've wanted to be. Supportive and cool and shit.