Page 50 of The Fall
He hesitates at the door. His eyes flick back and meet mine.
“Who is it?” he barks.
I can’t hear the reply, but worry erupts across Blair’s face as he throws open the door.
It’s Hayes.
All the usual ease, the confidence that is a second skin for Hayes, is gone. In its place is a desperate energy. He looks wildly at Blair, his gaze searching, and for a horrifying moment, I think he might break down. “I... Can I come in? I need to talk to you guys.”
Blair drags Hayes into the room. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“She... Erin... We...” Hayes stumbles through jagged breaths and consonants and vowels. “Fuck, guys, Erin’spregnant.”
Silence sweeps through the room. No one breathes. No one moves.
Blair’s face transforms from concern to shock to joy in less than a heartbeat.
“The doctors said she couldn’t…” Hayes is babbling, suddenly, big and bright. “We thought Lily was it, you know? But we always wanted a big family, and now…”
Blair yanks Hayes into a bear hug, and Hayes lets loose a laugh that is half a sob.
“She called. She couldn’t wait to tell me. I just hung up with her. Oh my God, oh my fucking God!”
Blair is backslapping Hayes, and they’re caught in a wrestler’s grapple, hugging so fiercely they can barely stay on their feet. Blair has never looked this happy, and he’s babbling nearly as much as Hayes, one long stream of holy shits and congratulations.
I’m caught somewhere in between, tangled in confusion and happiness. My memories are scrambling to make sense of this, to understand the joy, to be part of this heady celebration.
Hayes finally pulls back and wipes at his cheeks. He turns to me and yanks me into a vise-tight bear hug.
“Torey, man... what you did for us. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I can’t ever thank you enough.” His voice is thick and his tears are soaking through my shirt.
His joy is so potent it saturates the air, drawing in every drop of oxygen. I search for a thread, a connection, something to ground me, help me understand my part in this. The puzzle pieces are scattered, meaningless. I keep trying to rearrange them, but nothing fits. I’m not— I’m only me—Torey. I don’t deserve—I can’t have?—
Who is this version of me that could have such an impact? This ghost in my memories has done so much with himself.
Hayes finally releases me, drawing in a breath that trembles on its way in.
“Congrats, man.” I hold onto his shoulders, squeeze.
Hayes gathers himself, wiping at his eyes with a sheepish laugh. “Guess we’ll have to celebrate properly back in Tampa, huh?”
Blair nods. “We’ll have lots to celebrate.”
There’s a moment of unspoken communication between them that has more meaning than I can grasp. “Oh, I’m sure we will,” Hayes says. “Lots of big things coming, right?”
Blair pulls Hayes into another bear hug. A flare of color rises in his cheeks as he mutters something in Hayes’s ear, and Hayes laughs. They hold onto each other for a long time. They are both stunningly, amazingly happy.
Hayes steps back and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry for bursting in. I was going to explode. I had to tell you guys. I couldn’t wait.”
“Dude, I’m so glad you told us.” Blair cups the back of Hayes’s neck and shakes him.
Hayes laughs again, a little wilder now, like he can’t keep any of it contained. His eyes shine, red-rimmed but bright. Reliefradiates off him in waves; it feels like we’re all suspended in the afterglow of some impossible miracle.
He squeezes my arm one last time before turning toward the door, already fidgeting with his phone as if Erin might call again any second. “Seriously, I couldn’t keep it in. Not from you guys.”
His words fizz around us even after Hayes slips out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him. All of his shock has been transformed into radiance, and with him gone, the silence left behind is hot and thick and sticky.
Blair leans against the wall by the door, propped up on one shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest. He gazes at me, and it seems some of Hayes’s joy has slipped beneath his own skin. He looks at me as if I’m the reason for it, as if I’ve done something to deserve that.
