“Then what?” Rich asks. “You’re going to walk home?”
“It’s not that far.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night.”
You wouldn’t know it by the throngs of students and loosened-tie professionals and hip twenty-somethings littering the sidewalk. By the neonopensigns, the steaming hotdog stands, the endless cars swerving by. “I’mtwenty-five, not eighty, and it’s a Thursday. People our age haven’t even gotten started for the night. I’ll be fine. Let me out.”
“If you want to go out, I’ll go with you. Let’s just stop by your apartment first. Or mine, even. I think you’ve got a few pills there, and I really think you should—”
“You don’t work for him,” I tell the driver, ignoring Rich. “He’smydad’s employee, and this ismydad’s company car, and if you don’t stop now, I’ll call George Fox himself and make him tell you to pull over.”
Rich knows my dad would call me unreasonable and hang up, but fortunately, the driver doesn’t. I get out.
Rich rolls down the window. “Halston,” he calls. “It’s freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re being childish,” Rich says as the driver creeps alongside me. I stride down the sidewalk. “Get in the car.”
“No.”
“Come back with me now, or . . .”
“Or what?” I prompt.
“Or don’t come back at all.”
Even though there’s a definite waver in his voice, my stomach clenches. Is he breaking up with me? Do I care enough to get in the car? In this moment, my answer is no. I don’t want to think too hard if that’ll be the case tomorrow. “Fine,” I say. “I won’t.”
I turn on my heel and walk in the opposite direction.
“Come on,” Rich calls after me. “Seriously?”
I ignore him. This is unlike me, acting on impulse, arguing in front of a stranger, being petulant just to get at Rich.
Or, maybe itisme.
Only a couple blocks later, the adrenaline begins to wear off. In the East Village, the bars are packed, the sidewalks livening up with downtowners who remind me of my assistant. Don’t I belong here as much as anyone? I consider calling Benny to see if she’s around. I think she lives in the area. She’s invited me out a few times, but I’ve always turned her down. We don’t have that kind of relationship. But why couldn’t we?
I shiver. I’ve never been much of a partier. I didn’t smoke or drink because I liked it. They were just ways to comfort myself. Despite what Rich said, he wouldn’t turn me away if I showed up on his doorstep right now. If I did, we’d make up. We’d pretend none of this happened. He’d convince me not to take on my own treatment, and if he couldn’t, my dad would. Because Richwilltell him all about this. Maybe already has.
I walk toward my apartment, which is a good twenty or more minutes away. It’s not where I want to be, though. Rich and my dad have always been more of a team than I have with either of them. I accepted that. But Finn makes me feel important. Heard.Seen. We met less than two weeks ago, yet his interest in my journals, his questions, his attention, reminds me of how my mom was with me. When she looked at me, it was as if she couldn’t wait to see the person I would become.
Finn does that too, except he knew me before he ever laid eyes on me. It’s not supposed to happen that way, as if something greater brought us together.
I already have a missed call from Rich. I clear it. I didn’t get out my phone for him. Finn just posted the third photo, but I go right past it to my inbox.
I send Finn a direct message:
Are you home?
11
Four minutes have passed since I messaged Finn to see if he was home. He shouldn’t be sleeping at ten thirty on a Thursday night, but it’s not exactly early either. Now that I’ve decided I want to see him, it’s all I can think about. Just the thought of Rich annoys me.
I’m a couple blocks from his place when his response comes through.
Call me.
