DEACON
The only things left in Evan’s room are the bed stripped of linens, the area rug, and an empty desk. Everything else is gone. Apollo’s bowls on the kitchen floor—gone. The dog beds—vanished. A hint of Evan’s scent lingers in the air, but if I were to open a window, that would disappear, too.
I think the best word for how I feel is stunned. The letter he left is unopened in my hand as I sit on his bare mattress and try to take in his absence. Isaac said he understood. That he “got it.”
I don’t get it. I donotunderstand. We fought, yes. I said things to him that probably hit him where it hurt the most because I was afraid and hurting, too. But to leave his job, his friends, this city without a word? Evan’s never struck me as particularly impulsive. Gray would say read the damn letter, and I will, but for now, I’m still trying to understand how this makes me feel.
I open up my notes app and type.
I definitely feel like it’s my fault. No amount of Isaac trying to take a share of the blame is going to change that. And I know Evan is going to blame himself in the letter. But I know what I said to him. More than that—I know what I meant. What Iwas implying. I was telling him to get out of my way. Not in so many words, but I can’t deny that my words, and my subsequent actions sent a clear message.You’re not wanted here. And that was how I felt at the time. I wanted to be alone with Isaac. I wanted my chance. I wanted myturn. But now that I’ve had it, I realize something between him and me has irrevocably shifted. There’s a space between us neither him nor I can fill.
Only Evan can.
The complicated part is that I also feel relieved. Like a lot of the weight on my shoulders disappeared with him. Whether he was holding me back or pushing me away, I feel the absence of whatever pressure he was putting on me, and it’s a little easier to breathe.
I hope he’s happy. I really do. I hope he left because he wanted to and not because he felt like he had to. I hope I hear from him again. He’s kind of my best friend, and I know I never got a chance to tell him that. There are too many things I never told him.
Once Isaac adjusts to what happened to Jake, losing Evan is going to hit him like a truck, and I’m not sure I’m enough to soften the blow. I was fucking useless at the hospital.
I felt better once I could help him out at his apartment, but I can’t be his perfect assistant. I can’t talk to him and organize his life the way Evan does. All I can do is hold him and try to take care of him and hope he can feel how glad I am to have the connection I have with him. And hope it’s enough to fill the void.
I open the letter, sliding out the folded paper and finding a neatly handwritten note addressedDear Deacon.
No hard feelings. No regrets.
Sometimes life is about trying to recognize where you fit and understanding where you don’t. That’s the best way I can describe it, and I hope it makes sense.
Falling for you was probably the easiest thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t wish I said something sooner. I think everything happened the way it was supposed to. I think you were supposed to find Isaac—and he was meant to find you.
You and I were meant to be friends. Not share a lover. And I hope we can still do that. I hope I haven’t hurt you. I won’t lie and say I’m not sad to say goodbye, but I know I’ll be okay.
I know Isaac probably thinks I’ve run off to get back together with my ex, but this isn’t that. Hunter made me a job offer weeks ago, and it’s always been one I’d be stupid to refuse. Do I wish it was in SF? Maybe. But for now, it feels a little like coming home and a fresh start.
I want you to have a fresh start, too.
All my love,
Evan
I flip the page over to see if there’s more. There isn’t. There’s no explanation for how quickly he left, no indication of whether he’ll be back. No apology. I leave his old room and walk to mine. Taking the note, I pin it to the bulletin board near my desktopcomputer and stare at it, getting used to the way it looks there amidst the purposefully placed photos, quotes, and stickers I’ve collected since I’ve lived here.
One of the pictures is of Apollo taken shortly after Evan moved in. He’s curled into a perfect ball, doing his damndest to fit his whole body in his slightly too small dog bed. I’ve never had a pet of my own. My last roommate Ryan had a cat named Bud who was a lot like Apollo. Lazy. Easy. Black and white. I have a picture of him, too, in the top left corner. Also on his bed. Also curled up with perfect symmetry.
What now?
I find a new roommate? I don’t need one. I can afford this apartment on my own, but I’ve been used to living with someone else since college. It’s useful because I cook too much for one person, and I dislike the idea of wasted space. I’m twenty-eight years old and perfectly capable of living on my own, but I don’t even know what that would look like.
Is Evan replaceable?
Or am I being ridiculous because I have a boyfriend now? At least I think I do.
Isaac texts, checking in with me. He’s taken the week off work to sit and watch Jake who hasn’t done much more than sleep since yesterday when we brought him home. I slept over there last night but came home this morning because I wanted to see Evan. I thought he’d still be here. It’s not nothing to uproot your life and leave town.
I certainly didn’t expect everything to be completely cleared out. That’s what stunned me. I wanted to try and understand what was happening between him and me—if it was as bad as it felt Monday night or if there was some nuance I was missing that only he could help me understand. I’d promised myself I’d do a better job of listening. But it’s just me, this letter, and all my feelings sitting uselessly in a fucking app.
I need to shower, change, and go into the office, but all I really want to do is go back to Isaac, lie down with him and hold him. Face to face preferably. I want to feel his heartbeat. I want to look into his eyes.
I want him to tell me that we’ll be fine.
