Phrases I love in “How To Be A Normal Person” by TJ Klune now that I’m reading for a second time this beautiful book:
Before he fell asleep at precisely 11:00 p.m., he looked up at the ceiling and said, “Today was an okay day. Tomorrow will be too.” And he almost believed it.
“… Something tells me that I’m going to be in here quite a bit as I’ve decided that you and I are going to be friends.” And then he winked. That was the moment Gustavo Tiberius realized he was most certainly doomed.
“… Maybe smoke a little, drink a little, cry a little if you have to, and remember me a lot. But be happy. You promise me. That’s all I ever wanted for you was to be happy forever. You make me happy, Gustavo Tiberius. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. Because as much as I love this little clay pipe, you will always be the greatest thing I have ever created.”
But here was Casey, stoned, confusing Casey who was hugging Gus like they did it every day, and he wasn’t even put off by the fact that Gus had yet to hug him back. And Casey had been right, he was good at hugging. Their bodies were perfectly lined up with each other, barely a space between them. Casey’s arms were under Gus’s, hands clasped at the back. Gus cold feel Casey’s breath on his neck, and it wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t arousing, it was just… it was good. It was sweet and kind, and Gus hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being hugged.
“Eep,” Casey said. Gus made a strangled noise because it was not adorable when Casey did that. And what the hell was the word adorable doing in his vocabulary?
“Trying something different,” Casey said. “Los Angeles was getting too crowded for me, and I couldn’t think. I thought maybe some mountain air would do me good.” He glanced quickly at Gus before looking back as the We Three Queens. “Seems I was right.”
“… It’s not a secret, nor is it meant to be, but it shows a sign of trust and comfort to be told.” Gus was quiet for a moment. Then, “He gives really good hugs.” The We Three Queens sighed. “Ah, to be young again,” Bernice said, hands clasped over her heart. “Hugging is wonderful,” Bertha said. “We should hug more,” Betty said.
If you had told Gus even a week ago that a bow tie worn by a bearded guy who could pull off a man bun, for fuck’s sake, would be the beginning of his downfall, most likely he would have glowered at you until you returned to the pit from which you had crawled with the sole purpose of saying something ridiculous.
“Yeah,” Gus said. “Totally. I can totally see that. Great story. Right on, brotha.” Casey grinned. “You okay, man?” “I’m epic,” Gus said. “I’m so epic, I’m like the Lord of the Rings musical score by Howard Shore, ya know?” “Cool,” Casey said. “I never saw those movies.” “They’re epic,” Gus said. “Just… boom.” “Yeah,” Casey said. “I saw the commercials. I was, like, ten years old.” Well, if that didn’t make Gus feel old as fuck.
Gus glared at him. “Nothing you just said should be used to describe anyone ever,” but he wondered just how much Casey could see him. Or, rather, how much he wanted to show to Casey. Not in a Share Bear way, of course, because what the fuck. But other ways? Maybe. Maybe a lot. And god, if that didn’t scare the shit out of him.
However, it was a low thing, a negligible thing, outweighed by that bright, damning feeling in his chest. As his fingers brushed against the hair at the back of Casey’s neck, Gus understood if for what it was. Happiness. It was happiness. Gus was a little dumbstruck with the idea that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt happy. And why was it that it would be happening now. Simple answer, those. He hadn’t been happy since Pastor Tommy died. He was happy now because of an asexual hipster. He was so fucking screwed.
Bertha frowned. “Now you’re generalizing and that’s not fair. Sex and romance don’t always have to go hand in hand, Gustavo. And there’s a difference between being asexual and aromantic. Asexuals experiencia little to no sexual attraction. Aromantics experience little to no romantic attraction. They’re not the same. And you can be one without the other. Or both. Or neither.”
And three days before the last time he went into the hospital and thirteen days before he died, he said, “I believe in you, Gus. I believe that you’ll take care of things after I’m gone. I believe that you’ll be strong and brave and that you’ll be so good. I wish I could be here to see everything you’ll accomplish, but just know that wherever I am and wherever you are, I’ll always believe in you.” Gus’s hands had shook and his voice had gone away but he’d nodded, and Pastor Tommy, that has been enough. For Pastor Tommy, Gus had always been enough.
“What?” he asked, still hearing the laughter in his voice, noticing how Casey hadn’t moved away. “Nothing,” Bernice said, recovering first. “It’s nice. You know. Hearing you laugh. It’s just nice, is all.” “It is, isn’t?” Casey said, briefly touching his forehead to Gus’s temple. Gus wondered if this was what Pastor Tommy had meant by having belief.
“Yes,” Casey said as he nodded furiously. “All the dates. Like, so many dates. You’re not even going to believe how many dates.” “There aren’t even numbers for how many dates we’ll go on,” Gus said, pretty sure he could smell the burning that must have been pouring from his ears as his brain broke down. “They’ll have to make up numbers just to quantify how many dates we’ll go on.”
