Page 163 of In Somnis

Ah, shit.

“Did you think I’d let it go that you leave without a word? I’ve been giving you space, Lenny, I’ve been trying to. I’ve been watching that dot on the map, making sure you’re okay⁠—”

“It’s not your business where I am.”

“You’re my⁠—”

“I’m not,” I cut off whatever he wanted to say. “You made that very clear.”

“I didn’t mean it.” His voice has gone quiet now, carefully quiet. “The last six months have been hard for both of us. You pushed me away.”

Cold moves through me. “I didn’t push you away.”

“You stopped letting me in.”

“You stopped reaching out.”

“Because I was trying to give you space, I⁠—”

“I didn’t need space, I needed you present.” The words come out before I can file them down into something less honest. “Not absent. Not giving me space. Present. Do you know the difference?”

He doesn’t answer. And in the silence, I see all of it laid out. The hospital corridors, the pill bottles on the kitchen counter. How my mom faded by degrees, slowly and then all at once. I tried to hold her together with lemon cake, terrible jokes, and showing up every single day because showing up was the only thing I knew how to do. Spencer was twenty minutes away and found it hard to visit because hospitals made him uncomfortable.

He found it hard.

He found it hard.

“Lenny. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… not today, of all days.”

A hollow laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.

“Why would you even remember what day it is?”

“I have the obituary open in front of me,” he says quietly. I scoff, but he keeps going like he expected that. “I just wanted to call and tell you I’m here. Even if you’re angry. We can put everything else aside today if you need that. I’m here for you.”

The tears I’ve been holding since this morning finally make their move.

“I needed you,” I say, my voice breaking. “For the last six months.”

“Cherub…”

“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t act like you suddenly care now.”

“I do care.” He sounds desperate now. “I’ll come get you. I’ll drive all the way to Oregon to get you. I’ll show you how much I care about y⁠—”

“Don’t bother.” I hang up before he can finish.

The phone sits in my lap, screen going dark, and I become aware of several things at once. My hands shaking slightly. The heavy silence that follows a conversation that needed to happen but happened too late. The fact that I am sitting in a parking lot in Oregon at midnight on my mother’s birthday, and the person I spent six months watching fail her and me is the last person I just spoke to.

The anger arrives properly then, like it’s been trying to all day. Hot, clarifying, and almost a relief after everything else. I’m angry at Spencer for calling. I’m angry at myself for picking up. I’m angry at the obituary he had open in front of him as if that makes up for any of it. Like bearing witness after the fact counts as showing up.

I press the back of my hand hard against my mouth and breathe through my nose until the shaking stops.

Then, I get out and head upstairs, stopping in the hallway.

Ridge’s door is right there.

My mind shifts to the dream. About waking up to the echo of his voice through the wall, lying there in the dark with my heart racing, and not going to knock because I’m not doing that. I’m not doing any of it. If he wants something from me, he can walk the ten feet himself.