Page 40 of Crosswind

It is not the office. The office is not the thing. The thing is the way Jan looked at me before he left — or didn't look at me. The way he put on his jacket without meeting my eyes. The specific quality of Jan withdrawing, which I have never seen before, not like this, not all the way. I have seen Jan go quiet. I have seen Jan manage a situation. I have seen Jan be precise and careful and composed in ways that are sometimes impenetrable. I have never seen Jan look at me the way he looked at me this morning, like looking at me was costing him something.

That is what I am sitting with.

I last approximately twelve minutes before I call Peter.

My brother answers on the third ring, slightly surprised the way he always is when I call outside our usual pattern. "Patrick. Hey."

"Hey." I pause. "Is this a bad time."

"I'm at work but I can step out." A door closing. "What's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong. I just…” I stop. "Something's wrong with Jan and I don't know what it is."

A pause. "What happened."

"I just got back from New York this morning and something was already wrong before I walked in the door. I could see it. And then I got a call about a collab thing, nothing big, and he just… closed off completely. Went to the office. Wouldn't tell me what was wrong." I look at the canal. "He said I didn't do anything, Peter. But the way he looked at me…”

"Okay," Peter says carefully. "Do you believe him?"

"I don't know. I've been going over everything for the last hour and I can't find what I did and I don't know if that means I didn't do anything or if I'm just not seeing it."

Peter is quiet for a moment. I can picture him moving around whatever room he stepped out into, working it out on his feet. "What was happening before he left? What's been going on this week?"

I tell him. The New York trip, Jan's texts, the collab offer, Jan's face. Peter listens properly, following the threads.

"Patrick," he says when I finish. "You know Jan."

"Yes."

"From everything you've told me about him, he’s not someone who does things accidentally. He's precise. He thinks before he acts." A pause. "So if Jan needed to leave this morning, it wasn't about something you did. It was about something he needed to work out." A longer pause. "The question is whether you trust him enough to let him."

I look at the canal.

"I trust him completely," I say.

"Then give him the morning," Peter says simply. "He'll come back."

"What if…”

"Patrick." Warm but firm. "Give him the morning."

I breathe. "Okay."

"He sounds good for you, by the way," Peter says. "From everything you've told me. I just wanted to say that."

I look at the canal. "Yeah," I say. "He is."

We talk for a few more minutes about nothing. When we hang up I feel marginally less like the walls are closing in.

I look at the clock. Nearly ten.

At twelve-fifteen I text him.

Just: How are you doing.

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.

Then: Fine. Busy.