You just want to tell him, "Look, friend, everything's going to be okay."

There are times when J.J. Dufresne is made sluggish by depression. He thinks he’s a loser, a slacker, a jackass, an idiot. J. J. Dufresne knows he’s a mess. All the signs point to it: he drinks too much, eats too much and he smokes a lot of dope. His car is a piece of shit. He’s driving on fumes. His boxer shorts have holes in them. His mom and dad, on occasion, pay his rent and/or buy his groceries. He watches a lot of cartoons, movies, Twins games, porn. He understands why he does this, all of it, the booze, the dope, the wacking off, the hours sitting on the couch in front of the television, how it’s all a way to distract himself from himself, to put off self-loathing until self-loathing is inevitable, unavoidable, all that’s left.

One afternoon last spring, when J.J. went to see his doctor it was because he suspected he had an ear infection. But the doctor didn’t seem interested in his ear. Instead, the doctor wanted to know if he was hung-over. Well, yeah, J.J. told her. He was hung-over, but nothing too terrible. He’s had much worse hang-overs. “Hold out your hands,” the doctor said, so J.J. did, and then he saw what the doctor saw. The shakes. His trembling hands. He had the shakes. The doctor asked him a lot of questions about alcohol and his consumption of it. How much he drank, how often. She wanted to know if he thought he had a problem. He didn't want to say.

I didn’t know J.J. listed me as a reference on job applications until I heard myself telling bold lies about J.J. Dufresne’s work habits. When Christy from Human Resources asked me in what capacity do I know Mr. Dufresne, I said he was in my employment for three years. When Christy asked about the quality of Mr. Dufresne’s work, I said he’s innovative and he pays attention to detail, he gets the job done right the first time, though really, he’s more likely to be slipshod, slashdash, half-assed. He mowed some of our lawn that month we were out of town, but left parts of it overgrown, claiming those waist-high grassy places gave the dog a private place to poop.

When Christy wanted to know about J.J.’s weaknesses, I said he’s self-critical, he’s hard on himself, and that’s true, he is, which one reason why I’m not.