Chapter Thirty-Nine
NASH
“Have you showered in the last three days?” Brandon asked, glancing around Nash’s pigsty of an apartment.
“Yeah. Once.”
“You reek, man. You need to take another.”
Nash bobbed his head, unsmiling, and Brandon’s joke fell flat on its face.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Well, you know, my deadbeat dad’s letter brought back all the trauma I thought I dealt with, I got my ass dumped, and then I got suspended from work for yelling at a mother who is a recovering addict.”
Brandon’s eyes widened at the latest addition.
Nash was convinced they’d roll right out of his head.
“Um…well, I didn’t see the suspension coming.”
Nash gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yup. Me either.”
“What does Kate have to say?”
“Nothing. She’s called a few times and asked me to call back, but I haven’t been in the mood.”
Brandon flopped on Nash’s couch, pulling a pair of jeans out from underneath him. “This is gross. Clean up.”
“You drank your own pee at band camp in seventh grade.”
“Yeah. Seventh grade. On a dare. We’re thirty. This is real life. Get a grip and tell me where your head is at.”
Nash sighed and began his tale. He mentioned how Kirk’s letter had remained on his mind since they’d last spoken, poisoning everything and making the world feel less bright—or maybe that was just the breakup with Kiran making Nash think he’d never feel hope again. He recounted the horrible way he blew up on Trent’s mom and how Dr. Brigham had been more understanding than he should have. He told Brandon he felt like he’d failed.
“To be fair, having your girlfriend dump you and your deadbeat dad show up after years of abandonment…you were kind of a pressure cooker waiting to explode.”
“Well, I exploded. I’ve never lost my temper on a patient in my life. I’ve had psychiatric patients attack me and still remained calm…and this mother who happens to be an addict tells me, to no surprise, that she wants a hit, and I lose my mind. You’d think I was a rookie person off the street who didn’t know she is fighting a battle and happens to be struggling. I was an ass.”
“You were an ass,” Brandon agreed. “But as your best friend, I’m qualified to tell you that while your reaction wasn’t justified, your feelings were.”
“I don’t even know what to do.” Nash stared at his hands.
Brandon popped his legs up on Nash’s coffee table. “You meet your dad.”
“I’m sorry… What?”
“Right now, that’s the event that had the longest impact on you. Close the chapter. Whether that means shutting down your resentment or never speaking to him again, handle that first.”
It was surprisingly sound advice.
“And what about Kiran?”
“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought since we last spoke. I didn’t know what to say at first. It made no sense to me, if I’m honest, but I was playing devil’s advocate. It also sounds more complicated than we’ll ever understand. It’s fucked up that she has to choose. It’s a mentality we won’t understand, because we grew up in a different country. We could go there a million times, and we still wouldn’t know firsthand. But if she’s worth it to you, then you need to fight for her and deal with the fact that her parents will probably hate your sorry, white, suspended ass until you prove yourself somehow. And even then, they may not like you.”
“That’s…not comforting at all,” Nash groaned.
“Nash, buddy, I’m trying to tell it like it is. You love her? Do what it takes to support her. I know it’s hard, but imagine what it’s like for her. If I had to choose between Tasha and my parents, I don’t know what I’d do, and it would be a crummy place to be. Kiran’s probably as confused as you are, so don’t make any hasty decisions. See what you can work out.”
“And what about work?” Nash threw his hands up.
“You’re suspended for a week to ten days, right?”
“Yeah. Until I can come back in without my head firmly up my ass.”
“Ten-day vacation then.” Brandon shrugged. “Like your mentor said…you reevaluate. In the meantime, fix your sitch with your dad and Kiran. I think that’s probably the root of all evil anyway.”
“He wrote his email address on the bottom of the letter. Phone number too.”
“Then shoot him a text. Tell him to meet you for coffee. Figure your shit out. Then tackle the rest of your life accordingly. Do it now, before you change your mind.”
Nash stared at his best friend. Then he got up, fished through the trash for the letter, and pulled it out.
“You really couldn’t have written the number down before drowning yourself in garbage?” Brandon asked sarcastically.
“Screw off, dude.”
Hi, Kirk. It’s Nash. Can you meet me for coffee tomorrow at 2 p.m.? There should be a few trains from Philadelphia in the morning. Gregorys near Sixty-Ninth and First.
“How’d you get so wise anyway? I’m usually the one telling you what to do.”
Brandon shrugged again and then offered Nash a grin. “I learned from the best.”
The phone buzzed.
Kirk: Good to hear from you, Son. I’ll see you tomorrow.