Page 86 of Wingmen

“Mhm.”

They sat quietly with the line humming between them. On the TV, it became apparent that Sophia’s ex-mafia boyfriend may have robbed a bank. Elliot said, “We still don’t talk about it.”

“Sí. Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

They seemed to come up against a wall then. They sat a while longer with the line quiet between them, and then his mom said, “I think you should go and talk to your friend. Boy.Friend. Boyfriend. If you need to tell him something then tell him. Just go and make him listen, and then at least you know he heard you. Don’t let it…well. You know.”

Elliot nodded. They sat a while longer in silence. When they hung up he checked the time. Nine forty-five PM. Too late to go to Bennet’s. He turned off the TV and got dressed anyway.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dustin

It turned out he couldn’t even have brought the codeine back from Canada: bringing it into the US without a prescription would have been drug smuggling, and if agents had gone through his bag at customs he would have been, as Jordan so delicately put it, “Fucked.Federallyfucked. Fucked so incredibly fucking hard, you little fucking moron.”

That was the only mean thing Jordan said that night. Apart from that, he was very kind.

He sat in the chair at the desk in Dustin’s hotel room in a Canucks hoodie and his New Balance dad shoes, which Dustin would normally have made fun of, but which that night felt like a reassuring presence.

“You should come and stay with us for a few days,” he said. Dustin winced and shook his head. “Fine. Then you go back to Portland and call Dr. Wu. I’ll fly in, but I need to take care of a few things first, so it won’t be for a couple of days. Do you have anyone in Portland you can call to come stay til I get there?”

Dustin did. But he didn’t want to put that on him.

He flew home the next morning feeling worse than he ever had in his life. Whoever had called this a ‘bad flu’ had lied. It was abrutalflu. When he arrived in Portland and turned on his phone, he found fourGood morningtexts from Elliot. He couldn’t look at them.

He picked up his car from short-term parking, drove back to the loft, and went to bed. He didn’t sleep. He just thrashed around all day feeling like a little fucking moron with a brutal,brutalflu.

He got up around noon to be sick and tried not to think about where he might get his hands on some more.

He must have fallen asleep,because he woke to a knock on the front door. He swam out of darkness into more darkness and determined that the sun must have gone down. Digging a knuckle into his eyes, he felt around for his phone to check the time. Ten PM.

Who the fuck was knocking on his door at ten PM? He had a sickening feeling he knew exactly.

More knocking as he struggled out of bed and pulled on his jeans and went groggily out to the living room. He was freezing, and his head was pounding and the knee wason fire.

He opened the door and leaned on it, rubbing his face.

“Hi,” said Elliot.

He was dressed in a blazer and nice jeans and the red Air Jordans and a Tampa ball cap. Dustin stood with his forearm on the door, scrubbing his face, trying to collect himself. “Hi.”

“Are you okay? You look…bad.” Dustin nodded, still scrubbing his face and Elliot said, “Can we talk?”

He thought about saying no. He considered doing something really abhorrent like pretending he was still angry and sendingElliot away, because honestly, that would be better for Elliot. And it would be easier for Dustin not to have to tell him the truth. But that would be a shitty thing to do. Or would it? He couldn’t decide.

While he was weighing all this and putting together his answer, Elliot just went ahead and started talking.

“I’m really sorry about what I said,” he said. “It was so shitty and I didn’t even mean it. I don’t even know why I said it. Except…I was confused and…you know, well… because…well…” He took a deep breath. “I’m gay. Which obviously you already knew, but apparently I didn’t. And…yeah, so look, so there’s a thing I didn’t tell you about – a family thing, like an actual family thing – and I think it might have kind of messed me up and that probably has a lot to do with – not that it should matter, and it’s not an excuse and I’m not trying to, like, get back together – not that we were together – ah God, this is not going well… But I just wanted you to know that I’m really sorry because I like you a lot and I respect you a lot, and I hope… ” He clasped his hands on top of his hat and blew out a long breath. “Man, I really thought I had this better prepared.”

Dustin attempted a smile. “It’s fine.”

“Because I’m really sorry.”

“I know.”

They stood there in the door with Dustin’s brutal flu banging away inside him. It was time to say his thing now. He didn’t want to say it. It felt like a much worse thing.