Page 12 of The Art of Drowning

Their names got stuck on my tongue. Too much time had passed for me to feel comfortable calling them Milly and John the way I used to. But calling them Mister or Missus Weeks seemed cold.

“I’m sorry about Sam,” I said instead, because what else were you supposed to say at something like this? “It sucks,” I added because my tongue got away from me sometimes, even after all these years.

John almost smiled and Milly sniffled.

“It does suck,” she agreed, dabbing her eyes with a well-used handkerchief. “Thank you for saying that.”

“We’ve all missed you,” John said, but it wasn’t the truth. Sam hadn’t missed me, and I was sure that, after a while, Callum wouldn’t have either.

“I’ve missed you too.” And I had. Every day. When I first met Sam and became his friend, I hadn’t realized that his friendship came with terms and conditions. And when he took his friendship away, I not only lost him, but his parents too. And Callum. Last but not least. Never least. Callum Weeks, who strolled over to stand next to his parents. He gave a polite nod, not even a proper hello, then he turned to speak to his mom.

“We need to get going. The car is waiting to take us to the cemetery.”

Milly looked at me, eyes red and brimming with tears. “Ride with us, Damien.”

“Oh, I can’t. I wasn’t⁠—”

Callum’s head snapped toward me like now that I spoke in his presence, he suddenly couldn’t resist acknowledging my existence anymore.

“We’ve missed you, son,” John repeated in that same voice that had always been so patient. So kind. And I couldn’t say no, despite the look Callum was giving me. He was silently begging me to refuse, all the while knowing I couldn’t. Not now. Not this.

“As long as you’re sure.” Dear Earth, if you were going to open up and swallow me whole, now would be a good time, I thought to myself even as I fell in line behind John and Milly, who trailed after Callum.

Callum held the door of the limo open and John and Milly climbed in first. I tried to catch Callum’s eye, but I seemed to once again be all but invisible. That was fine. It was probably better that way. The less he acknowledged me, the better. Maybe I’d duck out of town early. There was no reason to stay for the will reading. I didn’t care that I was in it. There was nothing I wanted. Not that I could have, anyway.

What I really wanted was a time machine. Or a stiff drink. Or ten.

What I got was an uncomfortable ride in the back of a limo that I hadn’t planned on sitting in. But Milly reached across the seat and took my hand in hers. Her skin was cold, and it made me fold my other hand over hers. If I could do nothing else for her, maybe that was enough.

So I held her hand and guilt gnawed at me that it wasn’t Callum she reached for, but I felt better about that when we arrived at the cemetery and she reached for him. She linked her arm through his, and he and John helped her to the gravesite. I followed, feeling lost and out of place and in desperate need of escape. Despite the open air, the walls of the universe were closing in on me, squeezing me down into a space so tight I couldn’t move or breathe.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But it was too late now to change anything.

There was no more time. No more chances.

I swallowed back grief’s razor blades as they cut my throat and tried to tear out of me. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted copper. This wasn’t about me and how I felt. Sam had been gone from my life now longer than he’d been in it, and I wasn’t even certain that I deserved to mourn him.

Then Callum looked back at me, the mask on his face cracking just a little. Just enough to see that he was as mixed up about this as I was, because through the pain there was a glimmer of something. A long-buried look that only came to life when he looked at me. And it was still there.

He blinked and it was gone just as fast. It was possible I’d only imagined it.

I looked ahead, not focusing on anything, and counted my breaths until it was time to go. And this time, I didn’t let Milly or John stop me. Callum swept his mom into a hug as she crumpled, and I left them alone to their grief. I headed for the entrance of the cemetery on foot, feeling Callum’s stare on me the whole way.

SEVEN

callum

NOW

Damien was gone before I could compose myself. Before I could help Mom and Dad back to the car, back to their too big, too quiet house. I was sure mom thought that by now she’d have tons of grandkids running around. But Sam never had kids as far as I knew, and the kind of sex I generally participated in wasn’t typically known to produce offspring, despite repeated attempts.

But I digress.

Damien was gone, almost like he was never there. Were it not for the fact that Mom and Dad saw him too, I might have believed I’d hallucinated him.

When I lifted my gaze in that church and saw him sitting in the back, his expression was blank at first. Then the flash of recognition as our eyes met made me flinch. The paper with my speech crumpled under my spasming hand, and I pressed my hands against the top of the pulpit to steady myself.