Page 73 of The Proximity Effect

Gavin’s familiar scrawl filled the next page, and for a moment, I was back in our college dorm, reading one of his ridiculous notes with excuses about why he ate the last of my ice cream.

Hey idiots,

If you’re reading this, two things are true: I’m dead (weird to write that), and you haven’t managed to completely destroy my resort in the three months since I left it to you. Congratulations on clearing that very low bar.

I know you’re probably pissed that I didn’t tell you I was sick. Trust me, there were about a thousand times I picked up my phone to call. But every time I imagined that conversation,it felt wrong. “Hey guys, I know we haven’t really talked since that whole Evelyn clusterfuck, but surprise! I’m dying!” It didn’t have the right ring to it.

The truth is, I was a coward. Not about dying. I made peace with that. I was a coward about how to fix things between us… between you. Every year that passed made it harder to reach out. Pride’s a bitch like that.

But here’s the thing: Sterling Pines was never just a business investment for me. It was my second chance. The place where I finally felt like I was building something meaningful. And when I found out I was knocking on heaven’s door all of a sudden, I couldn’t bear the thought of some corporate vultures turning it into another soulless chain hotel.

That’s where you three came in. Archer, you’re probably reading this with that constipated look you get when emotions are involved. Evan’s probably reclined in a chair trying to look casual while internally freaking out. And Liam, I bet you’re hovering somewhere between them, ready to either punch something or bolt.

I’ve left you three the resort because you’re the only ones I trust to understand what makes it special. Yes, even though you weren’t even speaking to each other. Maybe especially because of that.

Remember when we stayed up all night planning our future business empire? Archer was going to handle the legal stuff, Evan would market the hell out of it, Liam would manage operations, and I’d... well, I’d mostly provide the snacks, bad jokes, and the cash. We were unstoppable back then.

I know things got messy. Life has a way of doing that. But I also know that beneath all the hurt and anger, you’re still those same guys who would do anything for each other. The ones who helped me through my family’s estrangement when I cameout, who celebrated every tiny victory, who knew exactly how to call each other on our bullshit.

You’ve managed to work together for three months without burning the place down. That’s progress. But I’m betting there’s still tension. Still unsaid things. Still walls you’ve built so high you can’t remember why they’re there.

So here’s my final request (because dead guys get to make requests; it’s a rule): tear down those walls. Not for me, but for yourselves. For what Sterling Pines could be. For the friendship we had that is worth saving.

I love you guys.

-Gavin

P.S. If you’re wondering why this letter came now instead of right away, well, I figured you needed time to remember why you loved each other.

P.S.S. I know the cabin is small, so if you want to find a bigger place, you can, but you still have to live together. The proximity effect is a real thing and if I have to force it, so be it. Sorry, not sorry.

My throat was tight as I looked up from the letter to find both Evan and Liam staring at me with bright eyes.

“Fucking Gavin.” Evan’s voice cracked as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “He’s still the smartest one of us.”

“Always was.” Liam’s attempt at a laugh came out more like a strangled cough. He picked up the phallic paperweight from my desk, turning it over in his hands and examining it like it had all the answers.

I reread the part about my “constipated look,” and despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm me, I had to smile. Gavin had always seen right through me.

I set the letter down carefully, smoothing out a corner that had crumpled. “He’s right about everything. The walls, the pride, all of it.”

Liam cleared his throat. “We lost so much time… I think that’s been the hardest thing for me to realize.”

“We have some good memories, though… remember when he convinced us to steal the dean’s garden gnome?” Evan’s voice was thick with nostalgia. “Said it was ‘liberating it from a life of mundane lawn ornament servitude.’”

Liam snorted. “And then he dressed it up in different outfits and left it in random places around campus for a month.”

“Until security finally caught him trying to pose it on top of the library fountain.” The memory hit me like a physical force. “He talked his way out of trouble by convincing them it was an art project about the commodification of happiness in modern society.”

“That’s because Gavin could sell ice to penguins.” Evan shook his head, a fond smile playing at his lips. “We were drunk off our asses, complaining about having to get jobs after graduation and work for other people, and he just laid out this whole vision and got us to agree to start a business together.”

“And we believed every word because when Gavin believed in something, it was impossible not to believe in it too.” I looked back at the letter he’d written and hope that this would all work out bloomed in my chest.

Liam set down my paperweight. “He believed inus. Even after everything went to shit, even after we all stopped talking, even when he was...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Dying.” I forced the word out. “He was dying, and instead of telling us, he was plotting ways to force us to fix our friendship.”

Evan’s laugh was watery. “Why have a simple conversation when you can orchestrate an elaborate scheme from beyond?”

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