Jamal White:Again, I say: why? Why can’t you call him yourself?
Me:Ok so look, I can’t tell you a lot, so this might sound like I’m being a drama llama but I swear I’m not, but: he got some bad news a few weeks ago. I’ve been helping him deal, but he cut off contact with me a few days ago. He’s not answering his phone or his door. I’m really worried about him. I’m hoping he’ll at least pick up for you so I can know he’s, you know, ok.
Jamal White:“Ok”? Exactly how bad was this news? What’s going on, Jamison?
Me:I can’t share that with you, only he can. Just, please. Call him. Even if it’s just a two-minute “hey” conversation, and even if you don’t want to tell me anything he says. I just want to know that he’s able to answer the phone.
Jamal White:You’re freaking me the fuck out, dude. But fine. I’ll call him. Hold on.
I clenched my teeth against the anxiety that was pouring through me as long minutes passed with no more messages from Jamal. Kellogg wandered into my office and rubbed against my legs, and I reached down to stroke her. “He’ll be ok, right sweetie? Jamal will message me back and be like ‘Yeah he’s fine he’s just done with you’ and I’ll get wine-drunk and eat ice cream like this is a normal break-up and everything will be…ok not ‘fine’, but okay.” Shemrrped at me unhelpfully.
My phone buzzed and I jumped, snatching it out of my lap and thumbing open the screen.
Jamal White:He didn’t answer. You’ve got me worried now. What the hell is going on?
Me:I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go knock on his door? You’re probably at work though.
Jamal White:I own my own business, I can knock off early if I need to. Is it seriously that bad, that I need to go to his house?
Me:Look, I hope I’m completely wrong, and it’s not. I’ll own that if it turns out I’m making a fool of myself. But with that said…please, yes, go.
Jamal White:Meet me there in about 30 minutes. I have a key. If I let myself in and he’s naked or something,youcan explain this to him.
Me:Absolutely.
I reached for a pair of jeans, displacing the cat who had started napping on my foot. “Sorry, sweetie, but I’ve gotta go.” It wouldn’t take me half an hour to get to Hen’s house, but I could lurk in my car until Jamal arrived.
22
Henry
Week 15 - Tuesday
Ilay on my couch, staring at the ceiling. I’d been in this position long enough for my back to start hurting, but eh. I’d hurt worse before this was all over; I’d read enough of the stories online to know that.
Curie, who was curled on my legs, suddenly lifted her head and dug in her claws. “Ow, fuck.” Shit, was I bleeding? I’d forgotten to ever research whether I could transmit HIV to the cats. I dug my phone out from under my ass and opened a search.
That was when the banging on my door started. Oh, that explained Curie’s reaction. Jamison must have come back again. I sighed.
“Hen!” a voice that wasn’t Jamison’s called. It took me a second to recognize it as Jamal; I hadn’t spoken to him in…god, a really long time. Three weeks? Something like that. “Are you in there?”
I reflexively sat up and leaned my weight toward the door, then stopped myself. I hadn’t showered in days, my living roomwas covered in a layer of takeout containers, and the litter boxes stank. None of that was a good look, and Jamal would guess immediately that something was wrong. “Yeah,” I finally just called back, my voice croaky, “I’m here, but I’m, uh, sick. Don’t come in.”
There was silence for a long moment, then Jamal responded, “I don’t care if you’re sick, man. I have health insurance. Come on, let me in.” A pause, and then, more threateningly, “I have my key.”
Fuck, I’d forgotten he had a key. Shit. I ran an anxious hand through my hair - ew, gross, it was greasy - and stood up. “Fine, coming.” I considered the living room for a long moment, wondering if there was any five-second cleanup I could do to make it or me look better, but drew a blank. Fuck it. I walked to the door and cracked it open to find Jamal standing on the front step. “Jamal, what the -”
“Hen!” Jamison appeared from behind my friend, his eyes wide. “Jesus fuck, I was terrified you were -”
Ah, shit. How had the two of them even gotten in touch? I guessed that didn’t really matter. I directed a reproachful gaze to Jamal, who winced. “Look, Hen,” he said weakly, “Jamison was really worried about you, and -” He paused, looking me over. “- and honestly I can kinda see why. What the fuck, dude?”
With perfect timing, a hunk of my hair fell into my face. I felt like I’d been slimed. I shoved it back. “What do you mean, ‘what the fuck’?” I bluffed.
“Ok, no.” The rest of Jamison popped out from behind Jamal and he strong-armed the door open before I could react. “We’re not playing that game. You haven’t answered your phone or your door since Friday. It’sTuesday, Hen. Five days.Five daysyou’ve been radio-silent. I was terrified that you -” His breath hitched as he stepped inside and took in me and the room. “Ew.”
Jamal followed him in, shut the door, then fanned a hand in front of his face. “Seriously, ew. When was the last time you cleaned the cat boxes in here, Hen?”
“I didn’t invite you over,” I grumbled. “Don’t judge me for not being company-ready.”
