14 Skyler Puts Himself Out There

July 19th

My phone had been buzzing periodically over the past hour, but despite my anxiety, I couldn't break to check my messages until I'd finished brushing Hot Sauce McJones. Eventually, the old gentlehorse booped my temple to show he was done, and I made sure he was properly corralled before stepping away. The thought of reading Matt's texts made my stomach clench, but I took a deep breath and braved a glance at my screen.

It was a series of photos that I recognized as the local Target Matt and I would always shop at. He'd sent pics of himself, with two carts (one full and one empty), posing in front of the home décor aisles as he wrapped his arm around the air next to him.

Matt: just school shopping with ma bestie

Matt: here's where I would put a Skyler ... IF I HAD ONE lol

Matt: just kidding it's much easier without you

Matt: I'll pick up a really ugly rug in your honor

Matt: seriously you're missing out, do they even have Targets out there

Matt: nvm I don't care about California

The passive-aggressive punch of the last line made my stomach churn. I would have to explain myself eventually if we were going to resolve this. But for now, if Matt wanted to act like everything was fine, then so could I.

Skyler: Of course there's targets out here, I'm not in the boonies

Skyler: get one of those fuzzy blue rugs that look like a dead muppet, love those

I didn't realize Lucas had snuck up next to me until he asked, in what was clearly mock seriousness, "Are you texting on the job?"

"Sorry. It's my brother." I slid my phone back into my pocket. "He's just checking in. I think he's worried about me."

"Well, did you explain that you're absolutely thriving working as a new, minimum-wage ranch hand and the fresh young face of horsepice care?" Lucas's grin was contagious as he held up his own phone for me to see. "The website pops now; see what the power of a good camera can do?"

I recognized the photos he'd ended up posting—me brushing Nala's mane, doing manual labor in the stalls, and a particularly memorable day where Lucas had brought me along to assist with an orientation for a summer-camp field trip. He'd been off-camera, obviously, but he'd managed to catch a moment where I—with the permission of the kid and adult guardian—had perched an adorable four-year-old named Daisy on my hip so she could pet Grandpa Milkshake's nose.

"Amazing," I praised. "You really captured my spirit of ennui."

Lucas rolled his eyes, but he still flushed with pride. "Spirit of ennui ... Please, you're what, eighteen? Less ennui and more joie de vivre." Then he sighed, a bit theatrically, as he looked back at his phone. "Doing your shoots has been a good distraction. I'm doing everything I can not to lose my entire mind at home right now."

Lucas had brought up in passing the other day that he had yet to meet the guy he was living with, reiterating that if Darren had just agreed for them to live together then he wouldn't have to deal with any of these shenanigans. He seemed like he was ramping up for a rant, so I indulged him. "What'd he do this time?"

"Oh my god, what hasn't he done? Actually, no, never mind, that's a longer list." Lucas listed off on his fingers. "He leaves garbage everywhere in the apartment, he manspreads his workspace across the entire living room, he doodles on the bathroom mirror—yes, the entire mirror—I nearly died stepping on an honest-to-god inkwell he left sitting by the front door, and oh yeah, he barely responds to any of my texts when I try and engage with him." Lucas stopped to catch his breath. "He's like the most chaotic, uncommunicative cryptid who doesn't exist during daylight hours except to undo all of my immaculate cleaning work. Like Depressed, Mildly Destructive Mothman."

Lucas's impassioned speech felt all too familiar. Matt and I had had separate bedrooms, but the memory of cramped living quarters in the earlier foster homes with nothing resembling personal space was as vivid now as it was ten years ago.

"I think you both are just in an adjustment period," I ventured. "It's not easy getting used to living in a house with people you don't know yet. You said you'd rather be living with your boyfriend; well, maybe Mothman has somewhere else he'd rather be too."

Lucas looked thoughtful, then shot me an amused smile. "Aren't you a philosopher today. Yeah, I'll keep at it. I leave him all these notes, but I guess he doesn't do note-writing."

I didn't mention how hard it was to respond to someone's message when you were hiding something agonizing.

"Oh! I almost forgot! Darren invited me to this super fancy important work party as his plus-one!" Lucas was nearly vibrating out of his skin as he grinned at me. "He's finally coming around; I knew I just had to be patient."

"That's great, congrats!" Lucas's optimism was contagious. Maybe if I was patient with Matt, everything would work out. Eventually.

At the end of the work day, Lucas drove me back to campus. I took a much-needed shower and sat at my desk, staring at my computer.

I should do homework, but I couldn't get my brain to focus. I kept coming back to Matt's texts, dissecting every single one to determine tone. Was there anything I could say to let him know that this wasn't his fault?

My email notifications chirped. I had almost forgotten I'd set up alerts for additional part-time work in the area. Working at The End is Neigh had been rewarding so far, and it was a relief to be making my own money, but it was only part-time, which was not going to be enough. So I would work side hustles and go to school and not dissolve into a self-hating, co-dependent puddle. That was what independent adults did, right?

A surprising number of campus job postings popped up, and I scrolled until my eyes caught on a modeling call.

Not photography this time, but something for an art class.

The job description seemed basic enough, especially after what I was already doing for Lucas, though I did catch the detail about how this modeling would involve being stationary for long periods of time. And being nude.

I sat with this information for a bit. I'd never been particularly self-conscious about my body before, but maybe that was because there had been an element of safety in Matt's shadow. And wasn't the whole point of coming out here to try new things, figure myself out? Maybe the idea of being naked in front of a classroom of people sketching me should've been a lot weirder, but it felt like a natural enough progression.

I'd already done a fair amount of modeling for Lucas, and from what he'd shown me, I seemed to be pretty good at it. And it was enjoyable; there was something oddly peaceful about having someone else direct me, to decide how I was perceived, to relinquish me of the responsibility of choosing how my body should perform for a short while. And it was for art, right?

The application barely needed anything more than a short résumé, and after double-checking the pay information and contact details for the professor of the course, I applied.

I couldn't stop rereading my earlier text conversation with Delia. Especially the message she'd sent on my first day of school: Go to class, I love you!

I had to stop looking at it. I already had confusion and guilt rolling around; I didn't need to torture myself as well. She didn't mean it—not that way.

It was only eight o'clock and the sun hadn't fully set yet, so I grabbed my keys and walked out onto the quiet campus, my body thrumming with tension.