Page 74 of If the World Was Ending

“Are you drunk?”

“Yup. And high,” Colby announced. “Not that any of it is helping. Life still sucks.”

“You’ve got a record deal, a tour, and a talented girlfriend. Your life does not suck,” Hunter replied, and Colby gave him a stare that said fuck off as Hunter flicked his cigarette butt into a snowbank.

Colby sniffed. “I’ve been a fucking nightmare ever since you left. Ask the guys. Ask Hannah. Ask Ford. I almost didn’t get on the train to Ottawa. I wanted to try to find your mom’s house. Did you know that there are literally about one million Laws in the Montreal area, according to Google? And I don’t even know her first name.”

“Catherine Amaia Gibson.” It felt nice to say her full name. “She lives in an area called Westmount, and she never took my dad’s last name. And she may be dying.”

“And she might not be. Not more than any of us are. It might be okay,” Colby told him. “And if it isn’t okay… you’ll be there for her. She beat it once, right? She can do it again. And I’ll be there for you.”

“Because you’re still my friend?” Hunter asked. He was absolutely freezing now. So cold he could barely keep holding the phone. He picked up the carton of creamer and got off the bench. He started to walk home.

“Yeah.”

They didn’t speak for a second, and then another, and it started to feel heavy, so Hunter cleared his throat. “I’m sorry your family is so… difficult.”

“Me too.” Colby smiled with no dimple to be found. “It’s okay, though. I believe in found family.”

“Found family?”

“It’s a term for people who are family, but not blood.”

Hunter thought about that. He liked it a lot. The idea. He was close to his mom and relatively close to his dad, but he didn’t have much affinity for anyone else in his family. Maybe he needed some found family too. “Can best friends be found family?”

“Hope so because you’re the only branch on my family tree at the moment,” Colby replied and paused, his face getting serious. “Well, you and Briar. And maybe Hannah.”

Hunter felt a sharp pain at the mention of Hannah’s name. His shoulders sagged a little, more anxiety dissipating while being replaced with something that felt heavy, like defeat.

“I have to go. I think I should probably puke. The room is spinning,” Colby announced, and Hunter’s brow pinched in worry.

“I’ll stay on the phone. Bring me with you. I want to make sure you’re okay,” Hunter said.

And as he climbed the stairs to his mom’s place, he watched through the phone as Colby dropped his head into the toilet and wretched. Hunter said consoling words to his best friend, even after the phone tipped over and he was looking at nothing but a bathroom ceiling.

Finally, after Hunter had kicked off his boots and hung his coat and put the creamer in the fridge, the apartment was silent and dark, with only a sliver of light appearing from under his mother’s closed bedroom door at the end of the hall.

Colby reappeared, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Better?”

“Yeah, I guess. Not great though.”

“Brush your teeth,” Hunter advised. “It’ll help.”

Hunter walked down the hall to his mother’s guest bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and dropped onto the bed he hadn’t bothered to make earlier. He watched Colby brush his teeth, then wipe his mouth on his sweatshirt, then yank it off and leave it on the bathroom floor. “You got water? Drink it.”

Colby padded out of his bathroom, carrying his phone, and got a water bottle from the mini fridge. He propped his phone up on something, and Hunter watched his half-naked bestie and tried not to let his mind wander. “Why are you so drunk and high?”

“Just weed,” Colby murmured and put the half-empty water bottle on the table. “And, like, a bottle of Jack.”

“You hate whiskey,” Hunter reminded him, and he nodded.

“I thought we blew this up.”

“We did,” Hunter said. “But we’re fine.”

“Are we?” Colby fell back onto the bed.