"That makes sense."
I stared at the beer in my hands, the torn label, the ring of condensation it left on my knee.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," I said. "But I think I'm getting closer to knowing."
Derek raised his beer and tapped it against mine.
"Okay, then," he said. He stood, stretched, and squeezed my shoulder on his way past. "Don't stay up too late."
"Yeah."
"And Red?" He paused at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm glad you told me."
"Me too."
He went upstairs. The landing creaked once, then a door closed, and the room was still.
My phone buzzed.
Joel: you still awake?
I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then typed back.
Red: yeah. video call?
The phone rang thirty seconds later.
Joel's face filled the screen, half-lit by the lamp on his nightstand. He was in bed, propped against the headboard, and Wonton was curled in his lap like a fat orange loaf. His hair was messy and his eyes were tired, but his mouth curved when he saw me, the corners lifting before he caught himself and tried to flatten it into something less obvious. He failed.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
"Happy birthday." He scratched behind Wonton's ears. The cat's eyes narrowed into slits of pure contentment. "How was the party?"
"Good. Ro and Chase came."
"Yeah? How are they?"
"Happy. Disgustingly happy." I stretched out on my side on the couch and propped my phone against a beer bottle on the coffee table. "Ukko's fat."
"Ukko was always fat."
"Fatter."
Joel's mouth twitched, and the tired lines around his eyes softened. "I have your present."
"You actually got me something?"
"I said I did." He shifted, disturbing Wonton, who gave him a look of profound betrayal. Joel reached off-screen and came back with a black box. "It's not wrapped. I didn't have time."
"I don't care about wrapping."
He opened the box and held it up to the camera. Inside was a grooming kit in dark Italian leather. Razor, brush, small scissors, everything fitted into its own slot.
"So you stop stealing mine," Joel said.
I laughed. "I didn't steal it. I borrowed it."
