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Sarah Lynn meets Todd Chavez when she is thirty years old, and then she learns his name a few months later. They do drugs together which, in her humble opinion, is the best bonding experience someone could ask for, and then they somehow end up on the roof.
Bojack is gone. Bojack always leaves.
She doesn’t think Todd does drugs very much, because he’s taking a lot longer to come down than her. But she doesn’t mind so much.
He tells Sarah Lynn about a documentary he watched once, about how in a bazillion years the sun is going to explode and everything is going to die and how that really puts everything in perspective, and she doesn’t really get it or care but she likes listening. She doesn’t know why Bojack would keep him around, though, because Bojack hates anyone but himself talking for longer than a few seconds.
She doesn’t ask him, though. That would be rude. She normally doesn’t care about being rude to people, but something about doing it to Todd would feel wrong. She gets this little warm feeling in her chest looking at him. And it’s not attraction, nothing that simple, because she knows what attraction feels like. And she thinks that Todd’s probably gay anyway.
“I was gonna do science, y’know, before,” Todd says, and she doesn’t know, but she nods, because she’s been through enough things that aren’t talked about to feel like she gets most of them.
She hesitates, tries to keep her teeth shut, but the words tumble out before she can, clattering to the ground like coins, leaving her mouth tasting like rust. “I wanted to be an architect.”
“You still could. I didn’t go to college cause I wasn’t smart enough, and it was too much work, but I think you could do it.”
Sarah Lynn pulls a cigarette and lighter out of her pocket, and if her hands are shaking, Todd doesn’t mention it. She takes in a deep inhale of smoke and turns her face away from Todd. She waves her hand around and thinks, somewhat desperately, somewhat sickeningly, that she probably looks like her mother.
“Nah. I was born for Hollywood. I’m making a legacy here. I don’t wanna go to college or anything.” She breathes in smoke again, her hands beginning to steady. “A little too late for that, anyway.”
“I don’t think it is,” Todd says, and Sarah Lynn gets the weird urge to pat him on the head. She ignores it.
“I see why Bojack likes you,” she says instead, taking another inhale from her cigarette and then stubbing it out on the shingles. She brings her knees to her chest and can’t help but think about how they’re not bony enough.
“Bojack doesn’t like me.”
She waves a hand through the air again, like she’s clearing up the lingering smoke. “Bojack doesn’t really like anyone. But he’s kept you around for a reason.”
Todd seems like the type of person who would pull his knees up to his chest, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he keeps them stretched out and leans back on his arms. “He likes you. He likes Diane. I can’t really blame him, cause all I do is sleep on his couch, but it’s still weird. He’s known Diane for like, a month, and he already loves her, and I’ve known him for years and we’re still-” Todd makes a vague noise of confusion and shrugs- “Y’know?”
Sarah Lynn makes a vague noise of agreement and shrugs, to keep with the theme. “Yeah. Bojack is weird.” She turns to look at him, scans him up and down, and then asks “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
She shoves him. “Shut up. You’re like, twenty-one, max .”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
Sarah Lynn smiles. Todd moves a little closer. “You’re pretty cool,” he says.
“Yeah. I know.”
“You should hang out more.”
Sarah Lynn gets up. “I’ll try.”
“Cool.”
She climbs through the window and looks back at him, staring at the sky. “Cool. See you later, Todd.”
He sighs, and he really does pull his knees up to his chest now. Hopefully, he comes inside before it gets too cold. “Uh-huh. Later.”
Some weird part of her wants to keep this going, to keep saying goodbyes until she runs out of ways to phrase it, to just keep sitting in Bojack’s windowsill, talking to some kid she barely knows.
But the rest of her feels weird and slimy for thinking about it. She’s a star. She’s trying to carve her name into the side of humanity. She has to focus on that, right now, not anything else. Drugs keep her focused on that, keep her from feeling all the messy things that get knocked around her chest when she does things like this. Drugs make it better. Drugs make her better. Less of a bore, less of a stuck-up bitch, less of a person and more of a constellation.
She hopes that she sees him again, even though it’s weird and off-track and really dumb. She has some questions about the documentary he mentioned. Maybe she’ll get to hear about his next weird venture or obsession.
God, she feels fucking old. He’s basically an infant.
She calls Bojack while she’s rifling through his fridge and shoving the vodka into her backpack. That weird part of her that wants to talk to Todd again also wants to tell Bojack to stop being a dick to him, even though Bojack would either deny it or just feel bad about himself. And neither of those are things she particularly wants to deal with right now. She’s mainly just asking for a ride.
She does a shot, for the road. She’ll also have to ask where he buys his vodka.
The phone goes to voicemail. She mocks it as it plays because she’s all too familiar with it. “Hey, it’s Bojack. Horseman, obviously. Leave a message or something. How do I turn this thing off? Todd!”
“Hey, Bojack, it’s Sarah Lynn. I’m stealing your car because you’re not here to drive me home. Toodles.”
She steals his car. She almost crashes it. She doesn’t think she ever gives it back, but he has it the next time she sees him.
She kicks the wall when she realizes she didn’t give Todd her number because she was going to invite him to the planetarium. She tells Bojack to tell him, but he doesn’t, which is expected but still super fucking annoying.
Oh well. Some other time, then.