Page 70 of Empty Net
Disappear.
Appear again.
Then:
How did it go?
I type:
World didn't end.
This time his reply comes immediately.
I'm glad.
Then, a second later:
Are you okay?
The correct question again.
I look at it for a long time.
No.
But better.
I do not send that. I said it once. It was true once. It is still true now, but the repetition would feel like hiding inside a line he already accepted.
I type:
Can I come over?
His answer is one word.
Yes.
NOLAN
Going to Caleb's apartment is different from arriving there by momentum.
The first time, I came with my body ahead of me, want moving faster than thought. The second time was Tampa, pain and care and a hotel room I did not leave. Tonight I drive across the city at midnight with my sister's voice still in my ear and Caleb's name still warm in my mouth.
The going-to is the change.
I know this by the time I park.
Caleb's building is quiet. The lobby smells like lemon cleaner and someone's late dinner. The elevator mirror shows me a man with red eyes, gray at the temples, suit jacket wrinkled from sitting on the kitchen floor. I look like I have been through something.
I have.
The door opens before I knock twice.
Caleb is barefoot. Sweatpants, T-shirt, glasses on. Hair wrecked in a way that suggests he was either asleep or trying hard not to be. He looks at my face and does not ask the first five questions that move through his.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi."
