Page 9 of When I'm Gone

My friend couldn’t keep a thing to himself if he was getting paid for it, he only ever required the smallest push to remind him that I actually wanted to hear what was bothering him. “I think I need a new phone number.”

He’s been putting it off for four years now, but the phone calls were to a level of insanity that was wearing him down. “If Easton wanted to contact you, there are several other ways for him to do it.”

Even just the name makes him flinch. “I know. Still feels like I’m severing something, though.”

His parents had never been social media savvy enough to make burner accounts, so blocking them had been easier on that front, but they had endless people letting them use their phones to call and text him. “Do you think they’d actually tell you if they had heard anything about him?”

“No.”

Reason never did have much against hope. “It’s up to you, man. I know leaving that door open isn’t easy on you, though. No one would blame you for closing it.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll do it soon.” He scrubs a hand over his face as his phone starts ringing with an unknown number, like we’d conjured them up.

Easton was Brady’s greatest failure, and he never forgot it for a second. We don’t talk about it anymore, everything has already been said after he disappeared off the face of the earth without a trace. There wasn’t a thing we could do about it, so bringing it up seemed cruel. I still felt it too. I was the whole reason he had been disowned after all, but I didmy best to deal with my guilt away from my friend. He had enough of it all on his own.

If I’d been smarter though, I would have helped him with some kind of backup plan if things didn’t go well. I wasn’t stupid. My own family may have been supportive, but that didn’t mean Easton was going to have a similar experience. If I had listened to my gut, he’d probably have been with us instead of fuck knows where.

My stomach churns with the million awful possibilities of what could have happened to a sixteen-year-old with nowhere to go. That was even assuming that he was still?—

Nope. Absolutely fucking not, no way that train of thought was going anywhere good.

“Who’s turn is it tonight?” I ask instead.

Brady glances at me apologetically. “Sorry, what?”

“Dinner. My turn or yours?”

“Yours.”

Good. I don’t have the words to ease the loss he feels, but the one love language I excelled at was feeding people.

If I inherited one thing from my mom, it was that. She knew me well enough to know that when I was having a bad day, a hug wasn’t the route to take. But her bringing me a homemade chocolate cupcake with vanilla buttercream frosting would make me smile. It was a little routine we developed over the years. She’d go to my brothers’ baseball games and girl talk it up with my sister, but I was more closed off than my siblings and she didn’t know how to connect with me like she wanted to. So, she’d feel guilty about it and make my favorite meal, and I’d light up like it was Christmas morning. When I felt like a shitty son for not visiting or calling as much as I should, she’d get some cookies in the mail.

It might have been a little bizarre, but it worked for us.

When we pull up to my little white house, after parking inthe garage, Brady is obviously trying to leave his bad mood in the car. He whistles an off-key tune as he toes his shoes off by the door, making himself right at home in my space.

The dark shadow that follows us around is a friend. The sun-soaked memories keep it alive and well, but absence pushes it to the corners. Just enough to remind us that it should be here with pretty smiles and paint-stained fingers. Sometimes, it hovers at the edge of our lives, no more than a phantom itch that can’t be scratched. Others, it could eclipse the sun.

Today is as bright of a day as they come, but there is no beauty in it. Not like there should have been, and damn, how I missed it.

CHAPTER 3

EASTON

Not to brag or anything, but I have really been nailing the whole boyfriend thing over the last few days. I finally kicked whatever the hell bug I had, and Aaron forgave me. I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

He told me I was doing good and it feels great to please him. Today, I have an extra pep in my step. More excited than I’ve been in a long time. Aaron has some out-of-town business so he’ll be gone for a few days, but he isn’t due to leave for the airport for another couple of hours. He had to go into the office this morning, so I am going to surprise him with lunch and a coffee.

I carefully pack everything up, dress in the jeans that he says make my ass look edible, grab my essentials, and head out the door. It is muggy as a motherfucker outside, but even that doesn’t get me down. Warm summer days come at a cost.

Downtown Boston is always busy, but I don’t mind it. The temperature suggests an iced coffee would be the better option, so I decide to splurge and get Aaron something from the cute place down the street. He is going to be so happy.

The air conditioning blasting me as soon as I open the door is a relief even after a few minutes of walking. After waiting in line, I order a large iced flat white, bouncing back and forth on the balls on my feet slightly. I leave the change in the tip jar, grab the drink as soon as it’s ready and jog across the street so I can cut through the park. Aaron’s office is just on the other side, so it’s not worth getting a cab.

One thing I love about Boston is that they are not shy about cobblestones and fountains here. The charm it adds, even if they are new, is undeniable. It’s a weekday, so most of the traffic in the park are nannies and small children, but a gay couple sitting on a bench catch my eye, making me slow to a stop. Only one of them is facing me, a guy not much younger than me by the looks of it, and sickeningly in love. His partner is caressing his cheek with one hand and gazing into his eyes.

So romantic.

---