The Troll Whisperer (16 page)

Noah texted back:

How does that make it better? That just
means that your first response upon meeting someone you just
bullied online was to try to sleep with him. And you pretended you
didn’t know when I told you about ASMR. I trusted you, and you lied
to me. That’s something extremely personal to me. I feel so
embarrassed right now. If you had come clean earlier, maybe I could
forgive you, but you kept that up for weeks, and if Jeremy hadn’t
told me, you probably never would have. How can I ever trust you
again?

Oscar didn’t know what to say.

He finally typed back:

Im an asshole. i tried to warn u
.

No response.

He crawled into his bed, hugging his blankets
around him. He just lay there, feeling numb. After some time, his
phone buzzed. It was Noah.

I need some time to think.

His face felt wet. Shit. He was crying again.
He texted back.

ok

He curled up in the fetal position,
surrounded by all of his garbage. For the second time in nearly
eight years, he cried.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The days blurred together after that. He went
to work. He went to the gym, working out for hours just to avoid
going home. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to anyone; he even
avoided the Molten Taco. He bought a case of beer and a shit ton of
weed and made sure he was fucked up for every minute when he had to
be home. Beer cans and take-out boxes piled up around him. He had
actually made some halfhearted attempts at cleaning up in the
previous few weeks, but that effort was quickly undone. Eviction
was imminent. He had planned on fighting it, but now he’d decided
he’d leave quietly. What was the point?

When he was wasted, he got his computer out
and trolled. It wasn’t the prankster sort of trolling he usually
engaged in— this was vicious, nasty, bile-spewing trolling. He
wrote horrible racist and misogynistic screeds; he didn’t really
mean a word of it, but it was shit like that that got the most
vitriolic responses, and that was what he wanted. He was told he
was worthless, and evil, and idiotic over and over again. He found
that satisfying, because it was the truth. He liked being
validated.

He started to ramp-up his homophobic rants,
throwing out every word that his old friends had screamed at him as
they beat him, all the words he was sure his dad thought when he
came out— what the whole world thought of him and who he was. A few
assholes always agreed with him, but for the most part, everyone
rallied to the defense against his hate: queer men and women,
defending themselves, and their straight friends and family,
supporting them. He read their messages of love and support and
he’d cry at their kindness, and at his own viciousness, and at the
world that had made falling in love in high school the worst
possible thing that had ever happened to him.

He lost track of the days. It was probably a
week and a half later when his phone rang. It was early Sunday
night, which meant he wasn’t too fucked up yet. He looked at the
screen. It was Jeremy.

He could duck the call. He didn’t have to
talk to him ever again if he didn’t feel like it. But honestly, he
wasn’t even that mad at him anymore. Noah would have found out what
a piece of shit Oscar was, one way or the other. Maybe it was best
that it ended early. He answered the call. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said immediately. “I
really fucked up. Like a lot.”

“It’s okay. Noah deserved to know the
truth.”

“Not like that. Christ, I don’t know how you
can forgive me.”

“You’ve been my best friend since middle
school,” Oscar said. It was the first time he’d ever really used
the term “best friend,” but it was true. “I shouldn’t have said
those things.”

“Yeah, but you just hurt my feelings. I did
something way worse.” He hesitated. “Have you talked to him?”

“He’s done with me.”

Jeremy made an angry sound. “I’m such a
fucking idiot! I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar said again.

They both sat there in silence for a little
while. “This is a dumb question,” Jeremy said. “But is there
anything I can do for you?”

Oscar thought for a minute. “Actually, yeah.
I’m being evicted on Monday. Could I crash at your place until I
find somewhere else? I really don’t want to go to my parents’
house.”

“You’re being evicted?” Jeremy exclaimed.
“What for?”

“Failure to keep up the property,” he said.
“It’s really disgusting in here.”

“I could come help you clean up. Maybe they’d
change their minds.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to stay
anyway.”

Jeremy hesitated. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Yeah. I’ll call you when it happens.”

“Okay,” he said again. “I’ll talk to you
later, then.”

Oscar hung up the phone.

An hour later, his phone rang again. It was
his mom. Fucking Jeremy— he called her. He sighed and answered.
“Hey, Mom.”

“It’s not your mother,” said a male voice. It
was the same one that read him stories when he was young and taught
him how to play soccer and how to fight. A voice that both laughed
uproariously and disciplined sternly. It was the most reassuring
voice Oscar knew as a child. It was protective. It was strong.

“Dad?” Oscar said. He hated how young his own
voice sounded.

“Yes.”

Oscar shook off that vulnerability. “What do
you want?” he asked coldly.

“Jeremy called.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Oscar said. “I’m not
coming home, if that’s what you called to ask.”

“That’s not the reason, although you are
always welcome.” He cleared his throat. “I’m calling to tell you
sorry.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it. You’re so sorry I got
my ass kicked. You’re also sorry I’m your son.”

“I never said that,
mijo
. You put
those words in my mouth.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No. I love you.”

“Right. You love me
except
. Or
in
spite
.”

Oscar’s dad sighed. “No, Oscar. I love who
you are. All of you.”

Oscar fell silent. It was what he’d been
waiting to hear for years. “Alex made you say that,” he said,
fighting tears. “Or Mom.”

“Ay, you are so stubborn!” he grumbled. “Just
like me and your
abuelo
.”

It was then that Oscar knew he meant it.
Tears began to stream down his face, but he managed not to audibly
cry.

“I should have said this earlier,” his dad
continued. “But I didn’t know what to say. I was an old man even
when you were in high school. This world, these times— it’s very
difficult for me to understand, but it’s no excuse. And besides,
I’m not so good with feelings, you know.”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, laughing a little through
his tears. “I know how that is.”

“If you want to bring someone home, he would
be welcome in this house.”

Oscar couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I don’t
have anyone anymore,” he cried. “Dad, I fucked it up. I fucked
everything up.”

His dad waited for Oscar to get a hold of
himself. He didn’t bother asking exactly what had happened, which
Oscar was grateful for. “Have you apologized?” his dad asked.

“Yeah. He still won’t talk to me.”

“Did you give him the apology he needs to
hear, or the one you were comfortable giving?”

That stopped Oscar short.

“You see, that was my mistake. You should
learn from it.”

Oscar wiped his nose with the back of his
hand. “You’re right,” he said.

His dad snorted. “I had never thought I’d
hear those words from you ever again.”

Oscar smiled. “Don’t get used to it.”

They paused for a minute to catch their
breaths. That had been an awful lot of feeling sharing; his dad was
probably as exhausted as he was.

It was his dad who broke the silence. “You
have to think about this eviction too, you know.”

“I can’t move home.”

His dad grunted in approval. “You still have
your pride,” he said. “That’s good, but pride can also get in your
way. Sometimes you need help. Jeremy said your apartment is just
dirty. If we clean it up, maybe they won’t throw you out. And you
know you can make this drag out a long time. You pay your rent,
yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Oscar’s dad laughed. “Oh, they will have a
hard time then. You can cost them a lot of money; I’m surprised
they have the
cajones
.”

“Yeah, me too.” Aneisha really did have
cajones
of steel.

“But I think your mother would be happier if
we just cleaned the place. We could help you.”

Oscar looked around. Part of the wall in his
bedroom had turned black with mold. A cockroach scuttled happily
through the ankle-deep trash. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s pretty
disgusting.”

“I own a plumbing company. You think I
haven’t seen disgusting? And you— you work in the sewers! Surely it
isn’t as bad as a sewer!” He paused. “It’s not, is it?”

“No, but it’s
my
mess. I’m
embarrassed,” he admitted. Jesus, so many feelings today. He didn’t
know how much more of this he could take.

“So what? We’re your family.”

“Let me think about it.”

“So stubborn,” his dad mumbled under his
breath. “It’s up to you,” he said more audibly. “And no matter
what, you will come home to your family for dinner soon, yes?”

“Yeah.” His heart felt about twenty pounds
lighter. “Really soon.”

“Okay, then. I will talk to you later.”

“All right.”

They said their good-byes, but right before
he hung up, Oscar called out: “Wait!”

Fortunately, his dad was still on the line.
“Yes?”

“I love you, Dad.”

Oscar heard something then. It sounded
suspiciously like tears. “I love you, too. Always.”

They hung up for real after that. Oscar went
to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He felt much
better, but he still had a ways to go. Fortunately, he knew what he
had to do now.

He shaved and raked a comb through his hair.
He gave himself a look in the toothpaste-streaked mirror. Well, he
wasn’t exactly ready for dinner with the queen, but at least he
didn’t look like a hobo. His eyes were still red-rimmed, but not a
lot he could do about that. He went back to his bedroom and curled
up in bed, pulling his computer onto his lap. He opened the file
where he kept track of all his Internet aliases. Their angry little
screams were about to be silenced forever. Honestly, he was going
to miss some of them, but a big apology required a big sacrifice.
He created one final YouTube account:
Oscar_Lozada
.

He took a deep breath before turning on his
webcam. “Uh, hi,” he said. Another deep breath. “My name is Oscar
Lozada, and I am a troll. Like, a really big one. A multiple
platform spanning troll. It’s my hobby, I guess you could say.” He
took a look at his list. “Some of the names I go by are
up4it,
allthepussy, bettermommy, ridetheretardis, faithsetsufree,
eternalburner, wheresurgodnow, psychomedulla, ignoranus,
PWMiller52, death2fags, myscissormemories, BobfromCarolina,
moreammo
…” He paused. “I won’t bother listing all the one-offs,
except for
ASMRFan567
. That one I regret the most, for
reasons I’m not going to get into.

“So, why this video? Well, I think I’m done
with trolling. I know that I’ve pissed a lot of people off— and if
we’re going for honesty here, some of you deserved it.” He stopped
for a moment; that was really not the direction he should be
headed, but goddamn if he was going to unconditionally apologize to
some of these assholes. “For the most part, though, I was just
stirring shit because I thought it would be funny, or because I was
feeling bad about myself. That hurt a lot of people. It hurt
someone in particular, and it’s the biggest regret of my life.

“So, yeah, I’m giving this up. I’m posting a
link to this video to all my usual haunts. To people who I
befriended under some of those accounts— I’m sorry. Although you
really should reexamine your life if you found yourself agreeing
with someone trying to make the most obnoxious comments possible.
To people I lashed out at— I’m sorry. Except you homophobes, ’cause
guess what? I’m queer, so let me say one last ‘fuck you’ to you
assholes.”

He took a sip of beer. “Okay, so far this is
a pretty shit apology, so here goes the real one. I deliberately
set out to hurt, shock, and confuse a lot of people who seem very
nice. I laughed at you when you were upset. It made my day when I
ruined yours. I’m sure that you’ll find it satisfying that my
trolling has led to me ruining the best chance at love I ever
had.”

His gaze had been shifting around as he
spoke, but he made himself look directly into the camera. “My
biggest apologies go to you,
amorcito
. I really didn’t know
I’d ever meet you. That doesn’t really excuse the fact that I was
an asshole, or that I tried to hide it. ‘
The love impulse in man
very frequently reveals itself in terms of conflict
’,” he
quoted from their movie. “I guess that’s true.” Oscar knew that was
a cheap play at sympathy, but he couldn’t resist.