I wake up Saturday still thinking about it.
We stop pretending what this is isn’t what it is.
I made tea I didn’t drink. Stared at the Meridian boards
without seeing them. Picked up my phone twice to text him
and put it down both times. By Sunday morning I still had
no idea what to do with six words that rearranged everything.
And then Leo called.
Not a text. An actual call. Which with Leo means one of two
things. Either someone is in trouble or he has something to
say that he doesn’t trust himself to type without deleting
three times first.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey.” A pause. The particular kind Leo does when he’s
organising his thoughts into something that won’t come out
wrong. “You free today?”
“Depends. Are you calling to lecture me again?”
“I’m calling because I want to t
