He sounds awful, like he’s sick or something. “What’s going on? Why do you sound so awful?” I know it isn’t because of me. He’s been sending me gifs and memes all week, trying to get me to laugh. It worked a few times, but I didn’t respond with that reaction.
“Do you get a lunch break?”
“Of course,” I tell him. I don’t always leave the house, but I do when I have an appointment or errands. I glance down at my watch, seeing it’s about noon.
“Can you meet me?”
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
“No,” he says. “I need to talk to you.”
“Chance, what’s going on?”
“Please. I’ll meet you at Hal’s Sub Shop down the street from where you are.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there in fifteen?”
“I’m already at the sub shop,” he says. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Please tell me what’s wrong?”
“In person, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few.”
As if nothing has happened in the past week, I don’t think twice about running to someone’s side when they need me. It’s who I am.
This isn’t about us, though.
I close my files up and shut down my email before putting my computer to sleep. I grab my cross-body bag and sling it over my shoulders. “I’ll be back in a bit. I have to run an errand,” I tell Leena, who’s in the front room playing Barbie dolls with Zooey and Willa.
It only takes me a few minutes to make my way down the street, but I’m in heels, so it takes me a couple of minutes longer than it would have. In any case, I feel urgency with each step.
When I walk into the sub shop, I spot the back of Chance’s head, the almond brown hair in a perfect mess, combed forward.
I slide into the booth, sitting across from him. His eyes are red. “What’s wrong? Is it your parents?”
He nods his head. “No, no, they’re both fine. They’ve been better than fine. They won’t be after today, though,” he says, sniffling.
“That little boy’s distant relative came for him. It’s not definite, but counselors and the Department of Social Services are involved in reestablishing him with family—not me.” Tears appear in the corners of Chance’s eyes, and he pinches at the tears. “I thought it was a done deal.”
I slide out from my side of the booth and scoot in next to him, wrapping my arm around his back. “I’m so sorry, Chance.” I know the statistics. I know the likelihood of these situations falling through. I figured Chance knew too. “I know how badly you want this.”
With his head hanging low, he just sways his head side to side. “It not fair.”
“You’re right.”
“Look, I’m sorry I bothered you. I understand you don’t have space in your life for my drama right now, but I figured you’d understand more than anyone, and Annabelle and Luke would have just gotten all emotional about it.”
I close my eyes, wondering how he figured this was me pulling away from him because ofhissituation. “I didn’t want to be a burden on you, Chance. That’s all this was. You don’t need my baggage in your life while you’re trying to—”
“I’m not trying to do nothing, Auggie. I’m alone. That’s it. End of the story.”
“You are not alone,” I tell him. He shrugs. This moment is the weakest I've seen Chance, and it’s breaking my heart. “I’m sorry I walked out on you.”
“You should be,” he says. “You were just using me for my body, weren’t you?” By the way he says it and the croak in his voice, I feel like I want to laugh and cry simultaneously.
“Was I that obvious?” I ask him.
