Page 70 of The Art of Drowning

It struck me that I was in his house, holding him, helping him through something, when this time one month ago, he’d been a stranger to me. A ghost. Callum Weeks a month ago had existed only in my memories.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me out of my head. I shifted around and tugged my phone out of my pocket.

Bowie

Where are you?

We were going to get drinks tonight

Are you at the bar already?

“Shit.” I was the literal worst friend on the planet. Instead of texting him, I decided that if I was going to accidentally ditch him, he at least deserved a phone call. He answered on the first ring.

“Dude, where are you?”

“I’m out of town, with Callum. Something came up.”

The silence on the other end of the line was complete, which meant Bowie was hurt and probably pissed off. And I owed him a better truth than the vague line I’d offered up as an explanation.

“Callum’s brother was a piece of shit and he left some pretty wicked information landmines behind when he died, and Callum and I just stepped on one.”

“Well, shit, man. A heads up would’ve been nice, but I get why you bailed. But you owe me, dude. You’ve been a shit friend. I’m cutting you slack because there’s not really a manual for what to do when your former best friend, who was a manipulative piece of shit, dies and is still somehow running your life.” The snark in his voice reassured me that Bowie wasn’t mad at me. But I really did owe him.

“I know. I owe you so big. Name your price.”

“I want to meet him,” Bowie said without missing a beat. “I want to meet the boy who stole your heart and never gave it back.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I was careful not to make any promises that I couldn’t keep. Who knew if Callum would want me to stay or not. The only thing I was sure of was that I wasn’t leaving unless he told me to go. “Feed Spike for me.” Feed Spike was basically code for I don’t know how long this is going to take, but it might be a while.

“You’re such an asshole. Yes, I’ll feed Spike, you delusional jerk. Maybe I’ll cover him in chia seeds and turn him into a chia pet. Give him a fancy hairdo or something. I think he’d look good with a mullet.”

“You’re so fucking weird.” The affection I had for Bowie bled into my words. He was my best friend, and I loved him for knowing what this meant to me. For not pushing me to make different decisions. Maybe better decisions. Even if I was running headlong into heartache, Bowie wasn’t about to stop me, but he’d be there to help me pick up the pieces again.

Because, truthfully, I didn’t know where Callum and I stood or what was going to happen with us. We were two men who’d gone our separate ways and, sure, for now we’d found our way back to each other, but there was no guarantee that Callum would want something more between us. I only knew where he lived because I’d stalked his social media and figured it out.

Rather than catastrophizing, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second. “Thanks, Bowie. And I’m sorry I bailed on you.”

“I get it, man. That doesn’t mean you get to keep doing it, but I get it. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Take it easy,” Bowie said, ending the call.

“Sorry about that.” I set my phone on the coffee table and stared at the scattered papers Sam had left for us. “What did you want to do with this information?”

Callum sighed. “Nothing. Scream. Confront my parents. Piss on Sam’s grave. Curse his soul. Nap. I don’t know.”

I hated how tired and fragile Callum sounded.

“I could kill Sam for this if he wasn’t already dead. Am I going to hell for saying that?”

“I mean, that’s unlikely. You could always go home for a visit and somehow swab their DNA without them knowing and re-run the test.”

The sound Callum made was almost a laugh. “Okay, Tom Cruise, let’s just Mission Impossible this rather than doing the sensible thing and just asking them what the fuck.”

“This is like one of those who’s the daddy talk show episodes.”

“Yeah, but it’s even more fucked up because the one who let the cat out of the bag is a dead dude. Fuck.” Callum’s outburst prompted Crudinski to get up and leave. “Fuck, he’s such an asshole. I’m so pissed at him.”