Page 72 of If the World Was Ending

“You’re treating me like a princess because you’re worried,” Catherine noted. “I can walk to the store. It’s a block away.”

“I’m being a good son. And also, I want to stock up on Canadian candy,” Hunter lied. “So I’ll buy that at the same time.”

“When is your flight tomorrow?”

“Just after noon.” It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be on it.

“Okay. I’m waking you up tomorrow to say goodbye before I go to work, so don’t be grumpy.” Catherine patted the side of his face with her gloved hand. “Thank you for running to the store. I really am exhausted, and I’m gonna go straight to bed. Read a little and pass out early.”

“Okay. I’ll be sure to put the cream in the fridge.” He bent down spontaneously and hugged her. She felt tiny in his arms because she was. She was barely five foot three and probably about a hundred pounds. She lost a lot of weight when she was sick last time, and it never really came back. God, if she were sick again, how could her body handle it?

“Stop. I’m fine,” she muttered, but she squeezed him tightly anyway. “I love you.”

“You too. Now go read, and I’ll be back in a sec.”

Hunter let go and waited until she was safely up the stairs and in her apartment before turning and walking to the grocery store a block north. The air was the level of frigid that he’d loathed as a kid because your nose stuck together if you breathed too hard and your cheeks stung constantly. He used his phone to distract himself, pulling it out of his coat pocket and turning it on for the first time all day. His intention was to Google breast cancer reoccurrence stats, but as soon as his Face ID activated his phone, the screen filled with missed calls and messages. All from Colby.

The first text had come at six in the morning. And there were others until almost eight.

Colby

I hate this. Can we talk? Please.

Colby

Why are we fighting? We didn’t do anything wrong.

Colby

Please answer.

And then two missed FaceTimes and a voicemail.

“Hunter, can we please not blow up this friendship? Can we just not? That first night you promised me this wouldn’t happen. Come on. I’ve never… had a friend like you. Please answer the fucking phone. I’m exhausted, and I won’t sleep until we talk this through.”

More texts started up around ten.

Colby:

I wish I knew where your mom lived because I would go there now.

Colby

We leave at noon today for Ottawa. Can I see you before?

Colby

Are you really ghosting me?

And then there was nothing else. And it was almost nine in the evening, so Colby was in Ottawa. Hunter felt his stress and anxiety rise so fast and so furiously that he had to fight not to puke up his dinner. He leaned on a bus shelter that thankfully had no one in it, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. The Depanneur’s neon sign was glowing just in front of him, but he was worried he would get sick in one of the aisles if he walked in right then, so he waited almost five minutes.

Just as he was going to shove his phone in his pocket and go get the cream, he got another text.

Colby

I’ll move my stuff out as soon as I’m back in LA. And I won’t bother you again.

Hunter shoved his phone back in his pocket, but it took a minute because his hand was shaking. He walked into the grocery store and felt oddly disoriented. Like he’d never set foot in a store before. The shelves seemed too high and stacked with too much stuff. The lights were too bright. It was too empty and yet too noisy. He stumbled around for a few minutes looking for the coolers with the milk products.