Page 112 of Wayfarers

“I thought your mom was like, ‘buy nothing!’ while my mom is like, ‘buy everything!’”

“That’s true. But like, let’s think about it, the spectrum of buying things. You’d think our moms would be occupying different ends. But I don’t think spectrums exist. I think they’re all circles. Like in the way that political beliefs are a circle.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know if there’s a ton of difference between some liberal raising their kids in the woods to make sure they’re only exposed to the right ideas and a conservative doing the same thing. Bet they both have guns. Bet they stockpile goods, and keep a vegetable garden, and talk about Big Pharma and how modern medicine’s a hoax.” His mouth twists. “Not that I have experience with that or anything.”

“Or anything.” I’m starting to get a clearer picture here.

“And my mom—I don’t know, here’s another secret for the game, I guess, but my mom loved the thought of things. She loved the thought of being on the road. Of, like, living by our wits. Being free to love how you want and however many people you want at the same time. But sometimes I’d glance at her and she’d be sitting next to some guy she was dating who was also dating three other girls. All probably named Flower. And I would just see this look in her eyes. Like she was disappointed. Disappointed down to her bones. In all these people we were with, maybe, or maybe with herself, or maybe just with that dude—I wanna say his name was Lancelot?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was kidding. Lancelot? King Arthur? I mean who knows. Maybe his name was Dave, I don’t really remember.”

“That must have been really weird for you.”

“Yeah.” Knox pauses. “The hardest part was pretending that I didn’t think it was weird. Keeping a straight face. And it wasn’t always that way with my mom. But a lot of the time it was.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“I’m sorry about your stepfather. But do you kind of see what I mean? It’s just different versions of the same thing. They both live in a fantasy.”

“Was he also a spin instructor at the gym?”

“Lancelot? No, I think he said he used to be a lumberjack.”

“That’s a real thing?”

“Probably,” Knox says. “Though I don’t think Lancelot was a real lumberjack. Is spin hard? What do you spin?”

“Exercise bikes. It’s super hard. I went with my mom once and I almost passed out, but they were blasting Kesha so loud that it kept me in this world. Honestly it’s probably the most respect I’ve ever had for my mom, seeing her beast that workout.”

“So we’re talking about men our mothers clearly chose for their brains, and their brains alone.”

“Yep.” I start laughing. “I bet Lancelot and my stepdad look the same with their shirts off.”

“Wow,” Knox says. “I just—wow.”

“It’s a circle, Knox! We have to embrace the similarities! They’re both Ken dolls—Magic Workout Ken, and Fun with Wood Ken—”

“Wood? That sounds so wrong.”

“Fun with Logs Ken?”

“Somehow even worse.” He’s laughing too. “Fun with Alternative Lifestyles Ken.”

“He comes with a little plastic hookah and a book about astrology.”

“He has white boy dreads. When you pull the string, he says, ‘Tell your mom I said hi.’ He has an earring.”

“My stepdad has an earring,” I tell him. “It’s a little diamond stud,” and then Knox is actually gasping for air.

“A stud!”

“A diamond stud.”

“What a stud.”