Page 22 of All That Remains
"Him."
"Roman? That jackass?” We laughed. “What's he done now?"
"He just...I just sort of have this feeling he's walking out, y’know? Andsoon. It's the most fucked thing to do to a person, innit? Tell them you're thinking of leaving but not tell themwhen. I just have this dreadful feeling every time I think of him. Nothing's at ease anymore. I keep thinking I'll wake up one day to news he's gone."
"Think he'd leave without saying goodbye?"
"Mm-hm. It’s his style. I'd be surprised if he said two words to me—or any of uz beforehand."
"Then shouldn’t that illustrate everything you need to know about his character?"
Shit, he was right.
"Yeah, but that's Rome. He doesn't mean to be harsh, but sometimes he just is. He's just kind of candid, y'know? And that leaves no room for bullshit. He doesn't like softening the blow or sugarcoating the facts. And you've got to respect him for it...at the end of the day."
"Why does he wanna take off?"
"He's just different, Joe," I rubbed my face. "He's not like uz. He just wants to be elsewhere right now. He's not really enjoying it anymore."
"What's not to enjoy?"
"Exactly! Anyone would kill for this opportunity. Even if things become stressed at times, the highs are high enough to pull you through the lows. But, uh, I think he just doesn't see it that way anymore. And that's his truth, I guess. And, uh, I would never want to judge him for it, or try to come in the way of him pursuing his own definition of happiness. Whatever that may be."
"You'll miss him when he's gone?"
"Can't begin to tell you how much."
"Have you told him that?"
"Over and over again," I said, quietly.
"How does he respond?"
"It’s always the same. He tells me that he hears me. That he'll miss me too. But ultimately, it doesn’t matter. He says he can't take it anymore."
"You sound like good pals."
I lifted my brows in a sort of shrug. "Yeah...pals."
"More than pals?" he asked without flinching. His deep, dark, steely eyes suddenly unnerving me.
I offered a weary smile, but kept quiet. The room was beginning to spin. And although I couldn't be sure of myself if I headed down that road—revealing my heaviest shit to a perfect stranger—part of me was eager as hell. The last thing I registered was that Rome would kill me if he knew. Oh well.
"His mum...Rome's...she, uh, gave him the best advice recently. And it's one of those things where it'ssosimple, mate, but it never really occurs to you if you don't stop to think about it. She said:'If it doesn't make you happy, don't do it.'And I thought that was bloody brilliant, to be fair."
"Can anyone argue with that?"
"Exactly. She's a sweet lady," I muttered, slumping down and setting the bottle onto my stomach.
"You know what my mom told me?"
"Wut?"
"I don’t wanna see you again unless you have a wife and kids." We laughed. "She's been begging for grandkids my whole life."
"Had any yet?"
"Never got around to it."
