Chaz Is the Worst by Thomas Carver

Author:Thomas Carver [Carver, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-08T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

I joined Dave and Jim at the Grotto, the greasy spoon in the basement of Turner Hall. Jim was working on a paper boat of chicken strips, one of the few truly edible things at the spot. Dave had a similar paper boat, but his was filled with fried mushrooms, something that always looked good and always ended up disappointing.

"So -- that dude -- " Dave said, popping one of the mushrooms in his mouth and then spitting it into his napkin and taking a quick drink of pop. "Oh, fuck, that's hot. Sorry."

"What dude?"

"What was his name? Justin? Marcus? Something like that, a little gay and a little rich."

"Lucas," I said. "And yeah, what about him?"

"You guys a thing?"

I stole one of his mushrooms. It was too hot to eat, but I swallowed it anyway. "We are not a thing," I said.

"You okay?"

Was I? That's the thing. Chaz had no shame, but I did. And I wished I didn't. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said. I'd just sucked off my roommate without his knowledge in a public bathroom two days ago, so -- maybe not that fine.

"Men suck," Jim opined. He dipped a chicken strip in mayo and chewed it.

"Women can suck too," Dave said.

I stole another mushroom. "God, these are horrid," I said. "Everything sucks."

Dave held up his paper cup. "To everything sucking."

"Here, here," Jim said.

We tapped cups.

"What about Chaz?" Dave said. "He's dreamy."

Jim laughed.

"Oh, fuck, man. Don't even."

"Come on," Dave said. "He's got that cute butt, right?"

"He's got a personality like a butt, that's true," Jim rumbled.

"Oh, lay off," I said, hearing my own words with surprise: "He's not that bad."

That provoked a shocked silence. I shrugged and looked down.

"Here," Dave said, pushing the remainder of the mushrooms across the formica. "These look good, but are greasy, slimy, and gross. So, you know, like your roommate."

I munched one. They were no longer radioactive bombs of hot grease, at least. "Maybe they grow on you," I said. "You keep ordering them."

"Hope, man. It's hope. Keeps the world going 'round or something."

"I think that's love."

"Yeah, well, if you fall in love with Chaz, I will -- " He shook his head. "I don't know what I'll do."

"I'm not falling in love with anyone," I said. Not again, not for a while. Maybe not ever.

But then, when I got back to my room after abnormal psych, Chaz was there, in a pair of gym shorts with lycra underneath them, a tight t-shirt stretched across his chest. "I was thinking of going to the gym," he said. "You wanna come?" He had a bandage around his left arm.

"What's that?" I asked, nodding toward it.

"Oh, dude, look what I got." He peeled off part of the bandage to reveal raw, proud flesh, scabbed over, but through the scab I could see barbed wire, three strands going around his arm.

"A tattoo," I said. A very cliched, overplayed tattoo of barbed wire around his arm. "Looks tough."

"You like it?"

"I'll like it better when it heals," I said.

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