Page 4 of The Art of Drowning

“You should just get a dog.”

“I’m allergic, remember?” My suitcase was packed. My suit was in a garment bag. All that was left was to get my shit in the car and get on the road. I could have flown and saved myself a long drive, but I wasn’t in a hurry to get there. I needed some time between the segments of my life to acclimate.

“Get a hairless dog.”

“You get a hairless dog,” I shot back. Bowie didn’t have an issue with my pet rock, but he did like to tease me about it. I didn’t tell him that I’d settled on a pet rock after I moved because I’d been broke as fuck and lonely as hell, but pets were expensive. The adoption costs, then the food and supplies and the vet bills? It was all too much at the time.

I carried my bags to the car, Bowie following behind. His sister had recently moved into his place while she got back on her feet after leaving her husband, so Bowie was going to stay in my place while I was gone and get a break from her for a few days.

“I’m going to get you a cat while you’re gone,” he threatened.

“No.”

“A fish?”

“No.” I opened the driver’s door and hesitated, turning toward him instead of getting in.

“A bird.”

“I will burn you and the bird alive. And then I’ll eat the bird.” I stepped closer to Bowie and threw my arms around him. He caught me and hugged me tight, his large frame squeezing mine. He didn’t want him to let go. I didn’t want to let go either. I wanted none of this to be real. I wanted a lot of things, but I was used to not getting what I wanted. The universe had never listened to me, no matter what I tried.

“Drive safe. Call often. Come back soon,” Bowie said.

I didn’t respond with anything except a tight nod as I climbed into the car. I had a six-hour drive ahead of me, seven if I went the speed limit. Eight if I took a lot of breaks.

“I’ll text you when I stop for gas.”

“You better. I’ll be watching your location on my friend finder.”

“Stalker.”

Bowie just smiled at that. “You love it.”

I shook my head, started the car, and made myself drive away. I’d spent enough time dragging things out. I could have been on the road hours ago. As it was, the funeral was the day after tomorrow. The plan was to arrive tonight, and I’d get in a little late now, but I had a hotel booked. Tomorrow, I was going to take it easy and maybe get a haircut before the service the next day. I would have already gotten that done, but everything in town was booked out.

Hotel. Haircut. Funeral. Will. Home. That was it. No muss, no fuss. No lingering around town. No walks down memory lane. Just me and that town, and a final goodbye to someone who used to be important to me.

Maybe if we’d stayed close, I’d feel worse than I currently did. And maybe the reality would come crashing down later after the funeral. But it was hard to feel anything other than a vague kind of sadness after so many years of nothing. No contact. No emails. No texts. No phone calls. No DMs on social media. Just radio silence.

We’d fought when we last saw each other. Ugly and mean. Words had been tossed back and forth, and I always wondered if he’d meant the shit he said. At the time, I’d meant what I said. But that’s because he’d added insult to injury.

After everything imploded, I used to play the what-if game. I used to wonder what would have happened if things hadn’t gone down the way they did. I used to think about that all the time, until one day when Bowie looked at me, and with a seriousness I felt in every cell in my body, he said, “Then you wouldn’t have met me.”

I stopped wondering after that. But now I was back at it. What if I’d made amends? What if I’d reached out? What if… what if… what if…

What if he hadn’t changed?

What if he had?

I called Bowie at the first rest stop. Texted him when I stopped for gas. Sent a selfie at a roadside tourist trap. I did my best to pretend that I was on a fun little road trip. That I wasn’t going home for a funeral. While I was at it, I could pretend that I didn’t still think of it as home. It hadn’t been my home in a long time, and it wouldn’t be again.

Too much time had passed. Too many things had changed.

And now Sam was gone and nothing would be the same ever again.

THREE

callum