Page 76 of Every November

Should I have pushed harder after Christmas, asked better questions, done something, anything, that would’ve kept the door from closing the rest of the way? I told him to tell me when he needed space. I thought that would be enough. I guess I didn’t realize that would mean him pulling away altogether.

At work, I’ve zoned out through two design reviews. Today, someone asked me a question and I didn’t hear a word of it. I apologized then excused myself and ended up sitting in a bathroom stall, staring at my last text to him.

Me:

I wore your hoodie to bed every night this week. I miss you.

Fuck, I can’t take the silence anymore, so I do the only thing I haven’t tried yet. I text Derek and ask for Josh’s number. He sends it with a single question mark, and I don’t bother explaining.

I wait until I’m home to call. I’ve met Josh once, at his Friendsgiving, and I’m expecting him not to answer an unknown number. He picks up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Josh, this is Evan. Derek’s friend. I was at your Friendsgiving a couple years back, and I…” I trail off, because how do you explain this to a near stranger? “I know Marcus.”

“Oh, are you the Seattle guy?”

“Yeah. That’s me. Have you heard from him lately? He hasn’t answered me in almost two weeks, and he’s not picking up his phone, and I just… I don’t know. I’m worried.”

Josh lets out a long breath, and I can hear a TV playing in the background. “Yeah, he does this sometimes. He goes quiet when stuff gets bad with his family. Give him a little time, man. He always comes back up.”

I don’t know whether that should make me feel better or worse.

“Is there anyone in Chicago who could check on him? A friend, a neighbor, anyone?”

“Not really. Not that I know of. He keeps to himself up there.” Josh hesitates. “Look, I get it. It freaked me out the first few times, too. But he just needs space, and he’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“Okay,” I say, because he’s known Marcus his whole life, and I’ve known him for three Thanksgivings. “Thanks, Josh. Sorry for bothering you.”

“No bother. Hey, if he reaches out to me, I’ll tell him to call you.”

“Thanks.”

We hang up, and I sit on my couch for a long time, trying to let that be enough.

Josh knows Marcus. But Josh hasn’t met the version I spent two nights with in December, the one who held my hand across the console and couldn’t let go in my parents’ driveway. That Marcus told me he’d say something instead of disappearing. He promised he’d try.

Whatever this is, it isn’t the space Josh is talking about. And I can’t sit here and wait for him to come back up on his own.

Before the part of me that respects boundaries and doesn’t want to overstep gets loud enough to stop me, I open my flight app. There’s a flight Saturday midday that’s ridiculously expensive, but I book it anyway because Marcus needs me, even if he won’t say it. It’ll at least give us enough time to create a plan together.

I don’t bother to tell him I’m coming because I worry if I do, he’ll tell me not to come. Showing up unannounced feels like the best option because the chances of him refusing me are less.

By the time I board the plane, my anxiety is screaming. I run through every possible scenario on a loop: him being furious I came, him not being home, me completely overreacting and making a fool out of myself. I don’t really believe that last one. Nothing about the last few weeks has felt like I’m overreacting, but still.

I spend the flight staring out the window, trying to figure out what I’ll say when I get there. I type out a few drafts on my phone about how all I want is to be there for him, that nothing he tells me will scare me away, but none of them sound right. I think it’ll depend on how he looks when he opens the door.

I just hope he’s relieved to see me.

The last time I landed at O’Hare, he was waiting for me in arrivals trying so hard to look casual. I almost tripped over someone’s suitcase as I walked toward him because I couldn’t get there fast enough.

This time, I walk past the spot where he stood and he’s not there for me.

The rideshare drops me outside his building a little after seven and I hate that I lost the whole day to travel and time zone changes. I stand on the sidewalk, looking up at the building, trying to figure out which window is his, and I suddenly realize how little I thought this plan through. I don’t have a key to get in, so I buzz his apartment number and wait, breath fogging in front of me as nothing happens.

I try again. Still nothing.

Maybe he’s in the shower. Or he’s napping, even though it’s kind of late. Or maybe he’s not even home, that could be it. I walk to where he parked last time, and my stomach drops because his Jeep is there.