Page 95 of The Spare

The box is secured with a small, tarnished brass padlock. It’s the kind you’d find on an old diary. As curious as I am to know what he felt valuable enough to secure inside it, I’m not breaking this lock.

A text comes through my phone, causing me to jump at the interruption down memory lane.

Kat: Left the door unlocked. Come on in when you get here. I’ll have margaritas ready.

I smile through tears. I can always count on my girlfriends to get me through. There’s no point waiting around. I’m far too upset to have a rational conversation with him tonight. I’ll have to hear him out on the plane. Not ideal heading into my keynote speech. But I’m not letting him ruin another second of my night.

I place the time capsule onto my bed, close my suitcase, grab my keys, and slip out the door. Now I’m more angry than hurt. It’s fueling my need to escape before I have to face him and demand an explanation. One he clearly doesn’t care enough to give.

Sam

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, freshly showered and buttoning up a clean shirt, I notice my phone dance across the marble counter.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Realizing it’s Gavin, I stand a little taller. This is the first time he’s reached out to me unsolicited.

“Hey, Gav⁠—”

“Sam! Oh my god, you have to help me. I’m gonna die, man. I think I’m actually gonna die!” Gavin’s hysterical voice blasts through the speaker.

My whole body is on full alert. “Gavin? Calm down. What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m—I’m hiding behind the bushes on Elm Street. Near the bakery. Please tell me you’re close.”

I sprint out to my SUV and tear down the road toward Elm. “I’m in the car now, buddy. Hang in there. I’ll get there as fast as I can. Are you hurt?”

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

“What happened? Were you in an accident?”

“No. I’ll explain when you get here.” His voice sounds shaky.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“No. I’m not okay. And if you don’t get here quick, I could get arrested.”

What the fuck?

“I’m hanging up now. I need both hands.”

“Wha—” Before I can finish my question, the line has gone dead.

The thirty plus minute drive to Elm Street seems to take days. When I finally pull up near the dark alley behind the bakery, I see a pair of pale shoulders peeking out from behind a massive boxwood shrub. Squinting, I try to make out the figure.

It’s got to be him. Right?

Hopping out of my SUV, I carefully walk over, unsure what I’ll find. Has he gotten himself into drugs? Is that why he was worried he could get arrested?

As I approach, Gavin is standing behind the boxwood, completely shirtless, shivering in the cool evening air. It isn’t until I round the shrubbery that I realize he’s using both hands to frantically cover his junk.

I stop, frozen in place, staring at him. “Um, where are your clothes?”

Gavin looks like he’s about to die of pure embarrassment. “I was… I was with this girl, okay? And her dad unexpectedly came home through the front door. I had to make a total break for it out the second-story back window.” He shifts from foot to foot as he gives me the details.

“There was no time to grab anything. It was literally a choice between my phone or my pants, so I grabbed my phone so I could get help and lunged out the window.”

“Shit, Gavin. You could’ve broken your neck.”