Page 79 of The Art of Drowning

The next morning, I slipped out of bed and made a pot of coffee. Callum and I had been up late and we’d talked a lot about what happened and what he was going to do about the mess Sam left behind. I agreed to go with him to talk to his parents and hear from them if there was even a remote possibility that it was true.

But first, before I could do any of that, I had to call Bowie.

I waited until the coffee was ready and then poured myself a cup. I added a couple spoons of sugar and slipped outside to talk to him. I shoved my feet into my shoes, slipped into one of Callum’s jackets, and went out onto the front step.

Bowie answered on the first ring.

“What’s up buttercup?” he said, sounding half asleep still.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, I’ve been stirring for a while. Just haven’t gotten out of bed yet. What’s up?”

I took a deep breath and held it for a second or two. “I need another favor. I need a few more days off. I promise when I get back, I’ll make it right with you. I know you’ve been pulling a lot of my weight recently and this will be the last time, I swear.”

“Dude, slow down. You know I’ve got your back.”

I exhaled and the sudden feeling of relief that flooded through me made me dizzy. I took a sip of my coffee and then sat on the front step. The morning was chilly, but not quite cold enough to let me see my breath. The sun had been up long enough to drive the worst of the chill away.

“What’s going on with you, Damien? I mean… I assume it has something to do with Callum.”

I gave him the CliffsNotes version. The letters we didn’t open right away. The shit Sam had left behind. The offer I made Callum to go with him to sort this out with his parents.

Bowie made all the appropriate sounds as I told the story. A few what the fucks, the occasional swear word. And then he was quietly thoughtful. Bowie was never quiet.

“What?” I asked. “You want to say something.” Not a question. I knew Bowie better than that.

“I’m just worried about you. You’re invested in this guy. A guy you haven’t seen in what… a decade? A guy who didn’t bother to talk to you that whole time.”

“It’s not like I reached out either.”

“That’s my point. This dude from a million years ago shows up and you’re his emotional support system. You’re going back home with him to confront his shitty parents. What has he done to deserve this kind of loyalty, dude?”

“He doesn’t need to do anything,” I blurted. “I’ve missed him, okay. Hell, I miss him right now, and he’s just inside. It’s all I can do to not end this call and climb back in bed with him.”

“Ah yes, the power of the penis. It all makes sense.” He didn’t sound hostile, but he did sound tired. And a bit judgy.

“What’s your problem?” I got to my feet, my hands shaking as I tried to decide if I was more hurt or angry.

“Damien, I love you like a brother. You’re my very best friend on the planet, and I would be a shitty friend to you if I didn’t tell you that this is a bit fucked up. I mean, you’ve all but dropped off the face of the earth. I only hear from you now when you need me to take over shit for you so you can go play house with your long-lost boyfriend.”

“Bowie—” I had no defense. “I know. I’m sorry.” I made myself take a breath and then let it out slowly. “I know I’ve gotten in deep, but I was never not in deep where Callum was concerned.”

“Is that healthy?”

I rolled the question around in my head, mostly trying to decide if I cared or not. “I don’t know if it’s healthy, but I know that I don’t want to stop seeing him. Or being there for him. I want to figure out how to make it work with him, and I’m sorry that I’m relying on you so much right now. I should be a better friend to you.”

“Damn right you should,” Bowie said. “I want to meet him.”

“I know, I know. How about after we see his parents? We’re driving, so how about we stop on the way back once we’ve dealt with this shit show?”

I heard him take a deep breath. “I’ll allow it,” he said after a minute. “But I want to meet him, Damien. I’m serious. If he’s important to you, then it’s important to me. Just… be careful, okay? I know you still carry a torch for him, but you haven’t seen each other in years. He might not be the same person you knew.”

“I’ll be careful.”

It was easier to agree than argue and tell him he was wrong. That Callum was still the same and so was I. Sure, we were older, supposedly wiser, and we’d both been through things that the other didn’t know about. But at our cores, we were unchanged. Callum was still the quiet, thoughtful one who taught me to swim. And I was still the one who thought he hung the moon. I’d never not love Callum.

The front door creaked open and I turned around to find him standing behind me, his hair messy and sticking out in all directions. He’d pulled a pair of boxers on and they sat low on his hips.