I say nothing for a minute, trying to process this.
“I’m really sorry,” George starts again. “I was way out of line. I was so far out of line, I couldn’t even see the line. I was so far out of the line, I would need a telescope to see the line. What’s that telescope? The one in space that can see to the far reaches of the universe? That one. I would need that telescope to see the line.”
I’m still thinking about Beau.
“What did he say?”
“What?”
“When you told him to go fuck himself, what did he say?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I shoved him out the door and slammed it on him before he could say anything.” He pauses. Then… “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that either. I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. He was just… and I’m sorry because I know you were seeing him, but, Owen, that guy issuchan asshole.”
And suddenly a laugh bubbles out of me. Then another.
There’s a tentative chuckle on the other end of the line, and then George joins me. Then we’re both full-on cracking up.
He’s not wrong. I never would have said it myself, but damn, it feels good to hear George say it. Like maybe some small part of me wasn’t completely sure and this is vindication.
The whole thing is so ridiculous, though. I’m picturing George, all red-faced and indignant. And the utter shock that must have been on Beau’s perfect, polished features. I’m so hysterical, I’m wiping away actual tears.
Eventually, our laughter dies down.
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m mad I didn’t do it myself,” I say with a smile.
“But you could never do that.”
“No, I probably couldn’t.”
“That’s a good thing,” he says. “I shouldn’t have either. But the way he was talking, Owen… And then I remembered some things Zoe told me, and some thingsyousaid, and maybe I’m off base, but I kind of got the impression that that jackass might have hurt you. And I just couldn’t stand there and?—”
“George? Thank you.”
There’s a long beat of quiet. “Yeah. Sure.” His voice is gruff, soft. It curls around me, and suddenly everything feels calm again, still.
We’re quiet together then, for another moment. But it’s not uncomfortable. Nothing has ever been uncomfortable with George, I realize.
“So,” I say finally into the silence, “This is what you sound like.”
“So this is whatyousound like,” he answers, and I can hear his grin.
It makes me want to stay here like this with the snow falling outside and George on the line and his book in my lap and… Oh shit.
“George?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to be rude, but I was reading this amazing book when you called, and I’d really like to get back to it.”
“Oh. Oh! God, sorry, yeah. Please. By all means! Wait, you do mean my book, right?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
“Okay! Great, well, back to it, then.”
“Goodbye, George.”
