Page 13 of A Boy Called Lovesong

A little over a week ago, the same people had gathered for Joel’s surprise party. Now we were all together again… and nothing would ever be the same.

Over in the corner, Lloyd looked after the record player as Shirley Bassey spun on the turntable. He already had Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone lined up next, just as he’d been told. As he’d entered that afternoon, he’d promised me, “No Nicki tonight, I promise.” That was before he eyed me up and down and added, “Are you eating okay? You’ve lost a shit-ton of weight. That suit is like two sizes too big for you now.”

“I’m fine. Just look after the music, please.”

From behind me, Pete tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey Noah, thanks for the Ben Platt tickets. The concert was amazing. You and Joel would have loved it. I miss him.”

“Me too,” I uttered.

Through the door came Robert and Andrew. They hugged me before Robert said, “Are you doing okay? Is there anything we can do?”

“I’m fine.”

“We postponed the night out to the jazz club, we knew this week would be hard on you. We’re thinking maybe next week. What do you think? Do you need a night out to let your hair down?”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“Too soon? We didn’t know if it would be too soon. Andrew and I have never lost anyone close before, we weren’t sure what was an appropriate length of time before you—”

“Would you both excuse me for a second? I think I left something upstairs.”

I hurried up the stairs so fast I skipped every second step.

I closed the door to the bedroom, then decided to leave it open just an inch, so I could hear my name mentioned if people came looking for me.

I sat on the edge of the bed and from under it came an unimpressed grumble from Chet.

“Trust me, I don’t want anyone here either. If I could I’d be under there with you, although I figure you’d try to bite me for invading your personal space.”

I couldn’t deny the feeling that this was Chet’s room now.

I hadn’t slept in here for over a week.

I hadn’t changed the sheets.

I didn’t want to wash his DNA out of anything, not his pillowcase or his towel or even the bath mat.

I had no intention of cleaning the hair from his comb or the stubble from his electric razor.

In fact, aside from his clothes, the only thing of his I’d touched was his toothbrush. In a bleary moment—the kind when the tears flowed without warning or any sign of stopping—I’d thrown my toothbrush away and started using his.

I figured it was the closest I’d ever get to kissing him again.

So, I brushed slowly…

Tenderly…

Often.

The knock at the door was soft, yet it still made me flinch.

“Yes? Hello?” I quickly wiped my cheeks. I had started doing it out of habit now, whether I was crying or not. After the day in the dog park, I realized that sometimes I didn’t even know I was crying at all. “Come in.”

The small frame of a person appeared in silhouette in the doorway, the light from the hall bright behind them. “Noah? Are you all right?”

I recognized the German accent immediately. “Hannah. Come in. Yeah, I’m doing just fine.”

“Really? Because it’s okay if you’re not.”

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